Page 82 of A Lady’s Guide to Fae Kings

Pippa tasted brackish water and lily petals in her mouth. Her fire sputtered and for once she did not care for it. And she definitely did not care for the image of Lachlan being sacrificed to the Lily Maids. She could see it too easily.

She drew him closer, smiling at him. And then she pushed him into the bog, where the water closed over his head. His silver eye flashed. Lily petals choked his mouth. He screamed silently.

Lachlan stepped in front of her, blood trickling from his violet eye. “Eyes on me,” he demanded hoarsely. “Eyes on me.”

Their brows pressed together and their gazes locked. The Lily Maids’ song wound around them, soft as petals, but it was distant, as if muffled underwater.

“Drown the queen, drown the queen.”

Lachlan shook his head, eyes still on her. “I’d drown the world first.”

And then he kissed her—or she kissed him. She only knew that the kiss obliterated everything else. There was no bog, no trial, no Lily Maids. There was no eerie song, drawing them to the murky bank. There was only Lachlan and his mouth on hers and her mouth on his. It linked them, burning away everything else.

The visions changed.

She was a Librarian in Hallow, finding books for professors. For Lachlan. He kissed her against the very bookshelf where he had pinned her with a knife.

She knew it wasn’t real and would never be real, not for a multitude of practical reasons, but it was real for right now. It was everything. A quiet life of books and teacups and serious, stern glances in the University halls.

Lachlan pulled back. “Pippa,” he said against her lips.

“Yes?”

“Run.”

It was difficult to move at first, the wet mire sucked at her feet. She strained to pull free, basket on her arm. Lachlan was next to her, grimly pushing against mud and magic, his hand at the small of her back. The Lily Maids were singing again but the sun was fading, the green mists rising again. Pippa forced her legs to move. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

Lachlan gave her one last push and she stumbled free, landing on the causeway planks. She stayed where she was, catching her breath. Lachlan crouched, fingers around her ankle.

“Hello.”

It took a moment for Pippa to realize where the tiny, cheerful voice was coming from.

When she lifted her head, there was a blue worm dangling from a branch, twirling just in front of her nose. “Hello,” she said, cautiously.

“Don’t get many witches around here. Especially not pretty ones.”

“I can’t think why. The mud is very soothing,” Pippa remarked.

“Wisp?” Lachlan asked, concerned.

“There’s a worm just here.”

The worm twirled. “Don’t you dare gobble me up, Owl King.”

“I am not hungry,” Lachlan assured him.

“What’s your na—” She cut herself off when Lachlan’s hold tightened around her ankle in silent warning. Don’t say thank you, don’t eat the fruit. And don’t give away your true name. “What should I call you?” she amended.

“I have always liked the name Bartholomew.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Bartholomew.”

Delighted, Bartholomew began to glow. It was a gentle pulse of soft blue light, like sapphires. Pippa sat up.

“You’re a glow worm,” she realized slowly.

“Aye.”