Page 48 of His Noble Savior

Flora stepped forward, stopping a foot from him. “Your things?”

“Well, you have my potter’s wheel, my shelves, almost everything that was in my tree. I’m grateful you’ve kept it safe.”

Flora huffed. “You’re mistaken. One might say these are my things, not yours.”

“But…”

“You were gone for months. Everything in this cave I regard as mine.”

He couldn’t believe it. But then again, he could. Even if Flora had initially stored his things for him, after all those months, he was indebted to her, and she might as well claim his possessions as payment. The puzzle pieces slotted together. The missing jam? She’d eaten it. The flower pots? Sold to pay for the newdresses. The betrayal was poison in his mouth.

“Flora, I’m hungry and tired. I’ve returned to find my tree empty. I need my wheel to earn gold.”

Flora squared her shoulders. “You can’t have the potter’s wheel.”

“It’s not like you need two.”

Flora said nothing.

Lilian swallowed. He’d need her help carrying the wheel to his hollow tree if he wanted it back. And the way she was posturing, it looked like he’d have to fight her to get his things. Flora was stronger than him, and unlike Lilian, she’d eaten. How could she do this to him? How could she make him beg for his belongings?

“Look, can I at least have my blanket? My rug and my comb?” Lilian looked at the cooking mushrooms. “And something to eat? Please, I’ve been roaming the human world for a week without a good meal. I need something to give me strength so I can go foraging.”

Flora shook her head, hair swaying across her shoulders.

“The blanket is worth nothing, but it has sentimental value to me,” Lilian pleaded. He needed something that’d comfort him now that Richard was gone. “I’m sure you can spare a skewer of mushrooms. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Do you want me to be cold at night? Do you want me to go hungry?” Flora asked, jutting her chin in his direction. “Your eyes have turned pink, Lilian. You’re not going to live long, so you won’t need those things. I do.”

“I have decades!”

“Is there a problem?” a deep male voice asked.

Lilian spun around. A male fae with pearl blond hair and an icy gaze sauntered toward them, an ax in hand, a few blocks of chopped wood under his arm. He kissed Flora on the cheek as he entered the cave, dropping the wood by the wall before taking aseat at Lilian’s wheel with a smirk.

With two against one, Lilian stood no chance. Flora was a lesser fae like him and desperate for every bit of gold she could earn, but her cold-heartedness cut deep. She must’ve thought him gone forever, and in her poverty, she took his things. Lilian understood. He might’ve done the same had Flora disappeared without a trace. They were too poor to let useful things go to waste. In his absence, she’d grown accustomed to having Lilian’s belongings. They’d become hers, which made parting with them difficult, but that she wouldn’t return the smallest items, wouldn’t share a bit of food with him, made his chest ache.

Lilian dropped his head, tears pooling in his eyes. He pressed his lips together to hold in his emotions and walked away without another word.

By the time he returned to his tree, the sun was setting. His stomach growled, but he didn’t have the strength to look for food tonight. He’d collect berries in the morning.

In a corner of his tree, Lilian curled into a ball. He had nothing but the clothes on his back. With his tools gone, he’d have to start his pottery from scratch. Until then, he had no means to earn money. He’d have to scour the forest for food which would steal time away from rebuilding his pottery. It’d taken him years to make a meager living, and it’d take him years again. Lilian would do it. Tomorrow, he’d pick himself up, find mushrooms, berries and fruit and begin building a new potter’s wheel. Tonight, he’d grieve. He grieved his friendship with Flora. He grieved the few things he’d owned and that had brought him joy. Most of all, he grieved his time with Richard.

Ragged sobs poured out of Lilian as he thought of the kindness and affection Richard had showered him with. He dragged his hands into his hair and balled them into fists, pulling at his locks. He hiccuped, choking on his cries. Richard. He needed Richard. His warm embrace. The safety he promised.Like so many times before, when his parents left him, when Flora abandoned him to the orcs, Lilian felt utterly alone.

Chapter Nineteen

Richard

The evening of Lilian’s disappearance, his seat next to Richard on the long and narrow dining table remained painfully vacant. Richard’s eyes kept flitting to it as if he could magically conjure him if he looked often enough.

Unlike Lilian, Bellerose and her household joined him for a late dinner, the fae filing into the hall with the princess at their head. Richard had washed and changed upon his return, and guilt gnawed at him that he was about to have a lavish dinner and then crawl into a comfortable bed when Lilian would have neither that night. He wanted to keep searching, but it was pointless and dangerous at night. The biggest favor he could do Lilian was to eat and rest well and resume his search at dawn.

“I take it you’ve been unsuccessful in locating your companion,” Bellerose said as her valet pulled out the chair at the end of the table for her to sit.

“Yes,” Richard ground out.

“You shouldn’t worry about it. He’ll return when the shock wears off. If he doesn’t, he was looking for an excuse to leave.”

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