than the first and I see immediately why Eldas said there was no room for the footman. This is another single room…with a single bed.
“What do you think?” Eldas asks as I appraise the quilted blanket covering the bed.
“There’s only one bed.”
My remark is met with roaring laughter. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sleeping downstairs.” He smiles, oblivious to the twinge of disappointment that stabs my side. I try to ignore the sensation too.
“But, shouldn’t you—”
“I slept on the couch as a boy when I would visit Alice here.” He starts downstairs again. As I follow, I notice that my bag and an extra trunk were carried up here and his things are situated in the corner of the living room.
“But you’re not a boy anymore.”
“And yet, I’ve still slept on a couch for you before.”
I think back to the settee. “I didn’t ask you to.”
“You were weak after the throne and I was worried. What if you needed something? What if the throne sapped more power than we thought?”
I don’t have a response, especially after how I was the first time I sat on the throne.
“You didn’t need to ask me to look after you. I should have been doing a better job of it all along.”
“I never thanked you for that.”
“You never needed to thank me.”
“Thank you,” I insist on saying anyway.
“You’re welcome.” The smile that graces his lips is brief but warm. He looks out to the doors that line the back of the cottage. “Unfortunately, I think the grounds will be more impressive in the daytime. Shall we turn in for the night?”
“I’m still a little tired,” I admit. Gone are the days when a long nap could keep me up all night.
“That is why we’re here, so you can rest. Past queens have said they find this place rejuvenating.”
“I’m sure it will be. But I don’t think I’ll be able to quiet my mind enough for bed yet.” My thoughts are still pinned on Eldas and me here, in a scenic spot, together, alone…with one bed.
“Then perhaps a nightcap of some sweet wine will help dull any racing thoughts?” Eldas heads into the kitchen.
“Wine, not mead?” I cross over, resting my elbows on the worn butcher’s block countertop. I’m momentarily entranced by Eldas rolling up his sleeves to his elbows, exposing muscular forearms beneath.
“Faeries make mead. Elves make wine. And it’s a crime you’ve yet to try the latter.” Eldas gives a wink. A wink. I have to sit on one of the stools so I don’t fall over with shock. Is this the same Elf King I met weeks ago? Gone is the marble and here is the man and all his glory. I hope he stays.
“Well, whose fault is that?” I ask playfully.
“Yet more blame you can lay at my feet. I will need a lifetime to make up for my previous transgressions against you.” But I only have a few more weeks, I hear unsaid.
Eldas retrieves a dusty bottle from a lower wine rack. He moves nimbly through the kitchen. He knows exactly where the corkscrew and glasses are. His movements opening the wine are fluid, as though he’s performed this task a hundred times.
“I wouldn’t have expected a king to seem so…natural in the kitchen,” I appraise.
“Even kings have hobbies.” Eldas pours generously. “Alice was an incredible chef. I learned from her.” I remember the plethora of cooking-related notes in her journal.
“Yet you looked so offended when I asked if you cooked our dinner a few weeks ago.” That was the dinner when he kissed me. I can almost see the moment Eldas has the same thought as his movements slow to a brief pause he quickly recovers from.
“Things were different then.”
“Things change quickly with us, it’d seem.”
“Maybe it’s because we don’t have very much time.” He meets my eyes as he sets down the bottle next to the glasses. There’s desperation there. I know the look of a man who wants something. But I’ve never felt my body react in such a way to that look. I’m aflame, heat pouring into my lower stomach faster than wine from the bottle. Every part of me is so sensitive that just the shifting of my clothes is almost too much.
“You—” I clear my throat. “—you came here with Alice?” I try and guide the topic back off us as I accept my glass from him.
The wine within is a deep plum color that seems to swirl with twilight as I tilt my glass.