Page 37 of The Lost Fae
What if...
What if...
Lincoln doesn't sleep either. He keeps his focus on the noises of the castle and any hustle that might move by our room. In my determination to find something for leverage, I've robbed Lincoln of his rest. He's on guard now. It's his job, it's what he is used to. I've just helped shift him back into that mindset. Because I'm his queen. I'm his claimed.
Sleep eventually comes in waves. It comes in furious fits of nightmares that chew me up and spit me back out in my uncertain reality. Every time I jolt awake, Lincoln's there stroking the side of my face. I force myself to close my eyes, to drift back off every time, until the morning comes shining through our single window.
Light falls across the floor, making up for the way that the fire has begun to die. I sit up and push my hair away from my face. Even the way I rub my fists against my eyes can't pull the sleep from them. Tucking my legs under me, I turn to face Lincoln. He props his head on his arm, rolling to his side and watching me.
Lincoln doesn't look tired at all. Maybe he isn't. Or maybe it's years of practice in sleep deprivation. Does he even need sleep to function? He's a robot. I'm sure of it.
Or a god...
I run my fingers through my tangle of hair trying to smooth it out. A knock pounds against our door. My shoulders jolt, forcing my posture to perfection as I stifle a gasp.
Lincoln places a hand gently on my knee and squeezes. "Not too scared to go running around someone else’s home in the middle of the night, but a sudden knock at the door… that'll get you every time." He laughs and kicks his feet from the covers rolling out of them and standing up. Before he can move to the door, a note slips in from underneath it. He tilts his head, looking at it for a moment before he decides to pick it up.
It's a small rectangular paper, the writing an old fancy scrawl of cursive. Lincoln flashes the script at me, then turns the note back to him. "Time to head down for breakfast, it would seem."
I groan and fall back onto our makeshift bed. Time to see if I've totally messed everything up or if it's about to come together in beautiful harmony. Worry nips at me. Dread makes my stomach heavy and my motivation slim.
"Come now," Lincoln stands over me offering his hands. "I want to see what this Fountain of Youth has done for Queen Anastasia. Maybe I'm keen to take a bath in those waters myself."
Now that's something that piques my interest. I lift a brow and the corner of my mouth tilts into a smile. Lincoln's grip is warm and gentle as he helps pull me up to standing. He watches me fondly, cupping my cheeks.
"A bath with you sounds like something I could be talked into."
"Don't tempt me. I'll skip breakfast and run to the queen's backyard butt naked right now." He tilts his head back with a chuckle and drops his hands, taking one of mine. "But you need to eat and I'm curious to see how this all plays out."
I'm not. I mean, I am... but... anxiety is a bitch.
Lincoln leads me forward, kicking my shoes toward my feet. He snaps his fingers and in a flash his boots are laced up and his coats layered on. It's that simple. "Your turn. Give it a try."
Flex your magic muscle.His thoughts echo.
I want you to flex your magic muscle.I think automatically without the thought to shield it from Lincoln. The image of his impressivemembercomes quickly to mind.
He rolls his eyes, but still manages to look smug. When I first met Lincoln I thought that he was the pervert... turns out that it's actually me.
Slowly, I release a long exhale and close my eyes. I forget about my raging libido and focus just on the strength of magic inside of me. My fingers snap and my body lifts ever so slightly with the height of my boots. I crack an eye and look down. Boots are on... not laced, but they are on my feet.
"The coats?" Lincoln points.
"I'm working on that. One thing at a time. Mymusclesare not as strong as yours."
He snaps his fingers and my laces tie up. I narrow my gaze on him, while he looks painfully innocent. Pursing my lips, I focus on the muscle again. I know exactly where the coats are and exactly where I want the coats to be. Instead of snapping, I squeeze my hand into a fist.
Thick fabric makes my limbs feel stiff with layers. My eyes flash open. Looking down, I run my hand over the coats, both buttoned up over my torso. It gives me a small confidence. I can do this. If I can figure out my magic, I can face any queen, Fae or mortal.
"You're like a child." Lincoln pats my head.
"Excuse me?" I sputter, taking a step away from his condescending touch.
"Oh, I didn't mean it like that. It's just that when Fae come into their magic as children, they have to go through all this training to learn how to use it. Teaching you is like teaching a child. Magic level: beginner. Please don't take offense."
"I'm not." The words are a bit stiff because even though I know exactly what he means I'm still slightly annoyed about it. A child. My faith in my magical abilities drops.If I’m at a beginner level in magic, then that means anyone with any magical abilities and more than a month of practice is going to be able to beat me. Which does not bode well for me. Or my kingdom for that matter.
Under the coats, my wings clutch my body, as if they huddle to me for warmth. Honestly, their presence has done wonders for my back support.
