Page 72 of My Faire Lady
I scoff, gesturing toward the crowd. “This wasn’t the gift?”
String lights reflect in her brown eyes, dancing across the planes of her face. “This is a thank you, Scarlet. Not a gift. Now come with me, before Frankie makes you dance.”
I take her hand, and without looking back, she pulls me out of the courtyard. We trail down the paths, her steps steady and sure, like she’s traced this route dozens of times. As we leave the main faire grounds, the trees thicken, curling over us like fingers.
And before we come to the spot, I know exactly where we’re headed.
“Did Boden show you?” I say.
A clearing opens, where a lone tree stands proud in the center, like the eye of a storm. Nestled within the branches is the treehouse I used to escape to when my thoughts were too loud.
“Maybe,” she says, studying me over her shoulder. “I thought after the party, you’d need some quiet. And, well, you’ve spent every hour of every day trying to fix the magic. I thought you deserved a moment to relax.”
I suck my bottom lip between my teeth and stare at the wooden planks bolted into the tree trunk. It’s not impressive, considering it was constructed by a teenager and an ancient fae who had never touched a power tool, but it’s stood the test of time.
“Thank you,” I say, quiet. “Sometimes I think you know what I need more than I do.”
Our steps crunch over the long grasses, and the moon lights the blush spreading across her cheeks. We reach the trunk, and she sweeps her arm forward. “After you.”
I wrap my hand around the first rung, the movement inked into my muscles, and climb to the entrance. I throw open the hatch, and a squeal of rusty hinges echoes through the night.
The rough edges of the wood dig into my palm like they did when I was a child, and I heave myself in.
I expect to find a layer of dust coating the floor, but it’s swept clean—the windows wiped down. And out the narrow doorway at the other end, a pile of blankets waits on the small deck.
“I hope it’s okay,” Lottie says, lifting herself in.
My mouth struggles to form words, none of them able to do justice for the warmth that floods my body. Instead, I take her hand and turn her to me, our bodies nearly pressed together in the cramped space. “It’s more than okay. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.”
Her smile breaks through the darkness, and she leads me out to the deck, laying a thick quilt out on the wooden planks. She digs through a box in the corner and pulls out a cupcake in one hand, lighter in the other. I raise a brow.
She shrugs. “I didn’t think you’d want to be put through the torture of everyone singing to you.”
She rolls her finger over the lighter and holds the flame against the wick. Shadows dance over her lips and cheekbones, and as she extinguishes the lighter, my heart twists. She knows me well enough to bring me here, where I can hear myself think.
And I know almost nothing about her.
Lowering to her knees, she sinks onto her heels and holds out the cupcake. “Make a wish, Scarlet.”
I stare at the flickering flame and tunnel through the wishes I so desperately want. Magic to return, freedom to roam about the world as I wish. Her.
But Frankie’s words echo through my mind, and despite most of her wisdom resonating with me, there’s one thing I disagree with.
Magic isn’t love, but love is magic.
And what is the greatest form of love, but seeing someone as they are?
I blow out the candle, plunging us into night, and within the shadow of the tree, my eyes find Lottie’s. “I wish you’d tell me a long story.”
She laughs, peeling the paper wrapper away. “We humans typically believe it’s bad luck to tell someone your wish.”
“I don’t believe in luck.”
I accept half the cupcake from her outstretched hand, frosting dripping across her knuckle.
Her head tilts. “I do. It’s what brought me to you. If Kelsey hadn’t dragged me to the faire that day, and I hadn’t ordered a mead from Frankie that subsequently spilled all over my dress after I tripped into you, we would have never met.”
“That’s called fate,” I say, biting into the cupcake.
