Page 46 of His Summer Prince

“Irina!” Vandos called out as the innkeeper returned with a jug of water, two glasses and two giant mugs of sloshing ale all crammed onto a small tray. The muscles in her arms bulged under the heavy load. “This lad plays the lute. Weren’t you looking for someone to entertain at night?”

Irina set the beverages down on the table, the wood groaning, and looked at Elior. “You do? That’s excellent news! If you want to come for a trial tonight…”

“I’d love to.”

“Perfect! Come at sunset, and you can introduce yourself and your music to the dinner guests,” Irina said cheerfully before returning to the kitchen.

“You have pretty marks.” Vandos pointed at the backs of their hands. Since leaving Neronaca behind, Elior no longer bothered glamouring their wedding marks. The golden sun symbol meant nothing to people far from the faerie courts.

“They’re our wedding marks,” Elior said, and warmth spreadin Wren’s chest.

“Ah, you’re married? I would’ve thought you’re friends.”

“Oh, we are friends.” Wren put his hand on Elior’s across the table. “Best friends.”

Vandos raised his glass. “Well, I’ll drink to that!”

There were cheers around the table, and Wren threw Elior a small smile. Soon, Irina came back with two plates of fish and seafood. The bass looked delicious, though Wren was clueless when it came to the seafood platter. Vandos patiently explained what shrimps and calamari were and gave a good-natured laugh when they hesitated to eat them.

“It’s good, it’s good,” Vandos reassured them.

He turned out to be right. The food was delicious. He showed them how to crack open shrimps and told them to be careful with the mussels and never eat one that didn’t open easily.

That night, Wren watched with a grin on his face as Elior swept the crowd away with his lute play. Elior’s talent could only be described as magical as he coaxed sweeping melodies out of the instrument. The villagers tipped him generously, and with that, he became an evening fixture in Irina’s tavern.

Soon, Wren started goat herding for Vandos’s niece during the day. She didn’t complain that Elior joined him—she was getting two herders for the price of one. The land around Tolanaki was more arid than Vale ever got, but there was plenty of food to be found for the goats.

Wren and Elior moved into a small house at the edge of the village. From their front porch, they had a sweeping view of the sea and the cliffs to the east. Wren loved taking his breakfast there in the sun, looking down at the sea. They had found a place to stay. A home.

Epilogue

Wren

Seven months later

Winter had come and gone, the temperatures never dropping so much that Elior would get uncomfortable. They’d made friends in their new home—Irina, Vandos, and a group of young fishermen they enjoyed sharing ale with in the evenings.

Spring had brought rain and flowers that bloomed between the rocks. Then summer returned, the sun more intense than it had ever been in Vale. Elior flourished in the heat, and Wren got used to wearing a hat.

It was their day off, and Wren was decorating the house for the upcoming midsummer, Toby running around his legs. Elior had been out and returned with two baskets worth of fresh produce from the market. He kissed Wren hello and put the food away.

“You’ll never guess what I found at the market,” Elior said as he returned from the pantry.

“What’s that?”

Elior reached into his pocket and produced a small vial filled with an amber liquid and flower blossoms. “Faerie oil.”

Wren’s eyes went wide. They’d run out months ago. The oil was produced in the faerie realm and thus widely available in Vale but increasingly rare further afield. Recently, they’d made do with olive oil. It worked fine, but nothing compared to the slick heat faerie oil brought.

Wren took the vial and examined it against the light of the window. “Are you sure it’s genuine?”

“One way to find out,” Elior said, and a wicked smile tucked at the corners of his lips.

All the blood in Wren’s body rushed south. “How’s there faerie oil for sale in Tolanaki?” Wren asked.

He took Elior’s hand, fingers closing around that silky, warm skin and dragged him toward the small bedroom at the back of the house.

“The market woman said she got it from a traveling merchant who had visited the capital. Sometimes goods from Vale come through. I was thinking… I’ll have a closer look at the oil and examine the ingredients. Perhaps I can make faerie oil myself. I’m sure people would enjoy its ‘properties.’ It’d fetch a pretty penny.”

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