Page 21 of The Hidden Fae Prince
“A summerberry,” Nevander says. “From the summerstar tree.”
Seren presses it between his lips. A drop of juice clings to his thumb until he licks it away. His eyes close with the sweetness, and for a moment, Nevander imagines he can see past Seren’s glamour to the truth of the young prince.
Human guise or no, Seren is beautiful. The realization is disconcerting. Nevander will have to guard him closely against a hungry court.
“I’dliketoremainfor three more days,” Nevander says. “I need time to prepare Seren.”
Yarrow nods, unusually thoughtful. He’s even wearing a shirt this morning, though it’s unbuttoned to his navel.
They stand beneath the great central tree. Moments ago, Folly pulled Seren away to sit on a bench-like root, where they now confer out of earshot.
The distance puts Nevander on edge. As if Seren might slip away to be lost again to a foreign realm. But speaking with a familiar face will do Seren good, both to acclimate him to his role and to practice his magic. Nevander told him to heed the differences between others’ emotions and his reactions. To search for the sensation of his own magic pulling those emotions in. Seren won’t be able to stop the magic if he can’t feel it working.
“Just three days?” Yarrow asks, skeptical.
Nevander shares his doubts. “That’s as long as I dare.”
“A year wouldn’t be enough, but perhaps a day would be too long.” Yarrow snorts. “I should ask a favor in exchange.”
“You should,” Nevander agrees.
Yarrow never liked bargaining. That’s the wild fae in him. Just like the brashness of his next question. “He’s the next Summer King, isn’t he?”
Nevander can’t share the queen’s illness with outsiders, even if that outsider is a friend. “Not for many years, I hope.”
“I hope so, too.” Yarrow turns, regarding Folly and Seren. “Still. It’s not a bad thing to do the Summer Prince a kindness.”
“Any favor is owed by me, not him,” Nevander snaps, cold.
Yarrow flinches back, then chuckles. “Fear not. Your prince owes me nothing. There’s no harm if he remembers me as a friendly, helpful wild fae, is there?”
Nevander’s anger is slow to quell. Though the words ‘your prince’ are reassuring. “You’ve grown wiser.”
“I have a realm to rule, and a lifebond keeping me humble.” Yarrow grimaces ruefully, then adds, “Well, as humble as possible.”
“At least you haven’t learned to lie.”
“Speaking of helpful wild fae, you should buy your prince some court clothes.” Yarrow peers up, as if checking the sun’s position. A habit yet unlearned. “Hummingbird should be awake soon.”
Nevander is familiar with Elsewhere’s seamstress—and her penchant for scandalous clothing. More substantial garments would be more appropriate for Seren. Court fae will covet him regardless, but Nevander doesn’t have to make it easy on them.
Especially if Seren is still learning to deflect unwanted emotions.
“Is there a chill, or is that just your face?” Yarrow asks. “We’re just standing here. What are you mad about now?”
Fortunately, Nevander doesn’t have to dodge that question. Seren and Folly are walking back from the tree root, and Seren is laughing.
Such an ordinary sound shouldn’t strike Nevander so. Nor should it be so rare. Seren’s current smile only illustrates how tense and scared he’s been these past few days. Yet Nevander’s also relieved Seren can laugh at all, not one day after being whisked from Prima.
The young prince is resilient. He isn’t ready yet, but with three days’ practice, perhaps they’ll get closer than expected.
“We should visit Hummingbird,” Folly says, his mismatched eyes bright.
Yarrow beams down at his lifebond. “Exactly what I was thinking.”
Nevander moves to Seren’s side and asks quietly, “How was it?”
Seren’s smile is even more startling up close. “I can almost feel the magic, like you said. I just have to stop avoiding it. By the end, I was—”
