for my seventeenth birthday.
I raised my Infinity and swiped through my digital wardrobe until I found the outfit I’d been about to change into to ford through the field of adamans—a black bodysuit made of flexible carbon scales that was impenetrable like armor but flexible like spandex. Neenee Lily had developed the fabric for Daneelies who desired clothing suited for their amphibian lifestyle. Nima and I had become the proud owners of the very first edition.
Once my body was cloaked in the compressive material, I exchanged my strappy sandals for knee-high boots, then searched through my closet for a pair of gloves but found I owned none. “You can stop blushing now, Remo.”
“I wasn’t blushing.”
I smiled, enjoying his discomfort immensely.
“You forgot the gloves.” His voice was a low growl.
“I don’t own any.”
Remo swiped through his Infinity furiously, then slashed through the beam emanating from the bangle. A pair of black leather gloves materialized on his hands. He plucked them off and tossed them at me.
“I won’t be returning your brother’s dust for a long long time. Perhaps forever. So people are bound to notice my new tattoo.”
He squeezed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “Just hide it tonight. Please?”
Something occurred to me then. “Wait. Did I confiscate his wita or yours?”
His gold eyes snapped open, and his hand slid off his face. “Mine? Why would you think it was mine?”
“Because you sent yours at me too.”
“To stop you from being skewered. Now put on the damn gloves.”
“I thought you were trying to help your brother.”
“Wouldn’t expect you to think anything but the worst of me.”
“Have you ever given me a reason to think otherwise?”
He held my gaze, and I held his, playing a game of tug-of-war with our eyes. When I was younger, shyer, I might’ve looked away first, but I was no longer the introverted little fae Remo Farrow got a kick out of intimidating.
“I pity the man who will stand at your side the next time the Cauldron appears.” His tone was as abrasive as the stone wall beneath the moss. And with that, he backed away, soaring around the heavy pillar and through the gap between the stilts.
I ran his words through my mind, feeling my eyebrows dip and rise, before dipping again. Didn’t he think he’d be the man standing at my side? Did he sense I would use my gajoï to kick him out of the kingdom?
Slowly, I put on the gloves, the material molding around my fingers, adjusting to their narrowness and shorter lengths, then circled around the bathroom just as Aylen and Shiloh appeared at the bottom of the glass staircase. Both stopped chatting at the sight of me.
“You’ve changed out of your dress,” my great aunt remarked.
“Sauce stain.”
Shiloh arched a brow. “That your fire couldn’t remove?”
I let them assume changing out of my purple garb was my way of showing Neverra what I thought of my engagement. “Surprisingly, yes. I’ll see you upstairs.”
When Shiloh’s nose twitched, probably catching a residual whiff of dust on the air, I sidestepped them, then slalomed around the hovering faelights and up the flight of stairs. Silence settled over the guests when I landed in the dining room.
“Snagged my skirt on one of the stilts,” I told my aunt Lily.
Her dark, expressive eyebrows writhed. I’ll fix it for you tomorrow, she signed.
I was tempted to tell my aunt not to waste her time, but instead, I smiled and said, “Great,” and conversations resumed.
I felt Nima’s black eyes on me. Pert smile pasted on my lips, I looked up. She inclined her head to the side and mouthed, Are you okay?
No, I wasn’t okay, but I didn’t want to worry her. Not yet. Besides, I’d struck a bargain. If I didn’t keep quiet, I’d lose my leverage over Remo.
“You wore the gloves.” My fiancé was watching Lydia, the faerie waitress, serve Sook wine with such attentiveness it strengthened my belief that something was going on between them.
“Not for your sake,” I replied quietly.
Lydia’s mouth stretched into a wide smile at something Sook said. Gejaiwe, how many men was she after? Her lips were so red and glittery it looked as though she’d dragged them over a hedge of crimson drosas.
“Woods never do anything that doesn’t benefit themselves,” he muttered, glowering at Lydia and Sook.
I shook my head, making my earrings dance and cast tinsels of light over the table. I steadied them but regretted lifting my hands when Remo’s scent leaped off the gloves and