is truly there. If he can trust me. If maybe our partnership can shore up its footing so that we might actually manage to get Midscape out of the bind it’s in. I’m not here out of obligation, or fear, or because he commanded me to be.
“Send her in.” The bass of Eldas’s voice resonates right through me.
The door swings out into the hall and Rinni steps to the side. I enter and try to walk tall, one hand buried in Hook’s fur for strength. As the door clicks behind me, the hornets win over the butterflies in my stomach and I press my lips together, trying not to let nervous words buzz out.
Eldas stands before a great hearth. There’s a table between us that looks like it could comfortably seat four but is set for two. Food glistens in the low light—roasted meat, trays of vegetables, and some kind of round, iced cake with what I hope aren’t actual butterfly wings decorating the top.
I can only inspect the food so much before my eyes wander to the man I’m actually here to see. Eldas is wearing a tufted tunic the color of midnight. Tiny pearl buttons are sewn at the center of Xs across his breast and give the appearance of scattered stars. His complexion is in contrast with his dark clothes, making him look like a king of starlight, rather than death.
“Is the crown really necessary?” I blurt, completely disarmed by his mere appearance. It almost looks like he made an effort for me.
“Excuse me?” Surprise disrupts his schooled expression and his hand flies to the dark line of iron on his head. Eldas drops his hand suddenly, as if embarrassed by the motion. “I am a king, why would I not wear my crown?”
“Because it’s just me you’re meeting with.”
“All the more reason. I am your king. Why would I not look the part?”
Your king. The words rumble in contrast to “your queen.” If I am his queen, does that mean he is my king? Is it, rather than him owning me, that we own each other? We share each other?
For the first time, I wish I spent a little more time on all this relationship and romance business at the academy, rather than being singularly focused on herbology. Maybe I would be less awkward and less inclined to over-think everything.
“I…” Words fail me. Instead, I walk over to him and feel his eyes trail over me with every step. Hook waits behind, as if he somehow knows I need to do this on my own. “I came here as myself, as Luella.” I hold out my hands and let him look at the high-waisted skirt and billowing top I chose—simple fabrics, simple designs, what I would wear back in Capton. “I was hoping that I might—”
I reach up and he flinches away. I hold out my hands and wait. Eldas settles and allows my fingers to curl around his crown. It’s heavier than I expected, so heavy I wonder how he holds his head up at all.
“—meet with Eldas, and not the Elf King.” I set the crown down on the mantle, grateful I didn’t drop it.
“The Elf King is who and what I am. There is nothing else.”
Those words mirror things I’ve said many times before. He didn’t intend for them to wound, and yet they do. Internal tremors try to knock my bones together. Nerves are attempting to get the better of me because I have never felt more vulnerable.
For the first time, I realize the clothes, the crown, that horrible, echoing throne room…they’re all different forms of armor for him. They shield him from anyone seeing whoever the man is without them. And, now, I’m all the more curious about who that man actually is.
“I understand,” I whisper.
“You don’t.” He looks back to the fire as if he can’t handle my scrutiny. As if he knows the realization I’ve made.
“I do,” I insist. “Because I had my own armor. I had my shop, my job, my duty. I had it keep me from everything because if I put myself out there for a moment then maybe I could be hurt—maybe I could lose control.”
His eyes flicker back to me. The fire cracks and a log falls.
“Little good that did me,” I murmur. Even trying to protect myself, Luke dealt a near mortal blow to my heart. His gaze softens further. “So I’m not going to retreat. Well, I’m trying not to. I want