Page 91 of Beyond the Faerie Gate

“You’re sad.”

Goddess, my voice grates. I used to be a bard. A musician with a voice like pure honey. Now my words are sandpaper on my own ears.

“I suppose.”

Infuriating female. Doesn’t she realise how unhelpful such a short answer is? Is it not obvious that I want her deepest thoughts rather than two softly spoken words?

“Why?”

She looks up, holding me captive for a heartbeat before I lower my gaze.

“Because I’m not who they all want me to be, and sooner or later everyone will realise what a fraud I am. They’re expecting either a warrior queen or a born diplomat, and I’m just me. In fact, I’m worse, because I can’t even do basic things like fly, or read, or use my magic—I don’t even know what my powers are. Drystan and Kitarni seem to know something, but they’re not telling anyone and—” She cuts off, dragging in a deep shuddering breath and slouching in defeat.

Say something. Comfort her.

My inner voice is helpful, but my mind is frozen in shock. I didn’t expect her to be just like me—battling her own insecurities while trying to put on a brave face. She was so composed the whole way here, even when Drystan was upsetting her. She handles the psychotic redcap with ease and honesty.

“I suppose,” I begin. “We both have things to learn.”

She snorts, the sound so raw that it takes me aback. “What could you possibly need to learn? You’re perfect, just like the rest of them. You’re sweet, you have all those”—she waves a hand at my body—“amazing tattoos that come to life and…”

Rose keeps ranting, but a laugh springs unbidden into my throat, stopping her mid-tirade.

Oh, dragonfly, you have no idea how wrong you are.

“What?” she snaps.

I run a hand down my face, hoping it will erase my grin. It doesn’t work. My lips aren’t cooperating, and I just keep laughing. The sound is raw, broken, and horrid from disuse, and Rose is staring at me like I’ve gone insane. Maybe I have.

“Seriously, what?”

I don’t want to answer her. Rose is delusional, but I find I quite enjoy her believing me better than I am.

Does she even realise that the Guard is supposed to be high fae only? Her mother’s males came from respected noble families, as did her grandmother’s before her.

“Fine.” She smiles, mock shoving at my arm. “Keep your secrets.”

I flinch before she can make contact, jerking my upper body out of reach. Rose’s face flashes with hurt, and I curse my own ingrained reaction.

“Sorry. I just… touch isn’t… easy for me. It’s not so bad with you, but the instinct to avoid it is still there.”

Taking her hand in the temple had been an act of courage. One which paid off. Perhaps it’s because she rescued me, or maybe it’s because she’s my mate, but I don’t feel the same paralysing fear when she touches me as I do with others.

If not for the necessity of having my tattoos easily accessible, I’d cover every inch of my skin to avoid it.

Rose’s eyes turn sad, but she nods. “I’m sorry.”

“You really should stop that, you know.” I smile, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ve never met a queen who apologised quite so much.”

Determination creases her brows for a second before she nods back. “All right.”

A chime rings throughout the space, and we both jump.

“It’s your maids,” I murmur, glancing back across the space to the stairs. “They’re here to help you dress.”

“Oh. For the ball.”

What I wouldn’t give to be a mind reader. I’ve never heard any woman sound so disappointed by the idea of dresses and dancing as Rose does right now.

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