Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 139662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 698(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 698(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
“Is that what I am to you?” he asks, stepping close. “A mistake?”
He’s so tall and broad, and when he’s this close and looking down on me with soft eyes, I feel . . . safe.
None of this is real. They need Oberon’s power. Nothing’s changed.
“Excuse me,” I say, sidestepping even though there’s not enough room between him and the bed for me to move around him. “I’m running late.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“What?” I shake my head. “No. I go to the settlement every day. I can manage on my own.”
Finn arches a brow. “I don’t doubt that, but I’d planned to visit today anyway and figured we could go together.” He steps to the side, finally allowing me through. “After you, Princess.”
Chapter Eleven
Less than twenty minutes later, I’m riding Two Star and trying not to admire the way Finn looks trotting along in front of me. I’m failing. The truth is, Finn looks absolutely regal on horseback. He rides like he was born atop a horse, as if adjusting to the creature’s canter is second nature. He looks like the king he should be.
“What are you thinking about so hard back there?” Finn asks, glancing over his shoulder.
“The children,” I lie. Though they’re never too far from my mind. “Many in this settlement have yet to be reunited with their families.”
Finn bows his head, as if he took the words as a reminder of his failings. “Misha told me what you did,” he finally says.
Frowning, I nudge Two Star forward to ride alongside him. I don’t like the idea of Misha talking to Finn about me—especially since the king has all too frequently been privy to my most private thoughts. “What I did when?”
Finn keeps his eyes on the trail ahead. “When you were running from the Golden Palace, you stopped to help with an escape at one of the queen’s camps. You freed those children even though you hate the fae and were angry with Sebastian—and with me, for all I’d done, for my trickery and . . . for what I’d planned.”
“The children are not responsible,” I say. “For any of it.”
“I know that, but . . .”
“You thought I’d hold it against them? They did not choose to be born fae, and I do not blame them for the decisions of those who came before them.”
He arches a brow, as if he finds my response intriguing. “Perhaps not, but there are many who believe themselves good people who avert their gaze from injustice every day. You could’ve done the same.”
I look away, unable to handle the intensity in his eyes. “I know what it’s like—to be powerless like that. There are children in the mortal realm who are tricked into unfair contracts and end up spending their lives in servitude. I always told myself that if I had the power, I’d free them. For years, I would look at the night sky and send that wish up to the stars, but I remained trapped and powerless, and I stopped believing.”
“No, you didn’t,” he says softly. “You told yourself you didn’t believe, because that hope made you feel weak, but you never stopped believing.”
I shrug. He’s probably right, but back in Elora I was too busy surviving to give it much thought. “I helped because I could. That they’re fae hardly matters. They’re innocents, and they deserve someone to fight for them.”
“Just like you and Jas needed someone to fight for you?” he asks.
I swallow hard. “I fought for us. We were okay.”
“I’m grateful for what you did.” He turns his head and studies me as our horses trot along. “But not surprised. I know who you are, Princess.”
I roll my eyes. “Obviously not if you’re still calling me Princess.”
“Would you prefer I call you something else?”
“I do have a name.”
“And a lovely name it is,” he says. “But I can’t resist the instinct to give you a title. It’s the least you deserve, considering all you’ve done for my people.”
I snort. “Right. The mess I’ve made for your people is more like it.”
The silence stretches between us for several heavy beats of my heart until Finn asks, “Do you want me to pretend that I think raiding the camps was Sebastian’s idea? That little act of heroics had your name all over it.”
I swallow hard. “I didn’t do anything. I simply made him aware of the problem and asked him to help.”
Finn grunts. “Yes, and now he’s reaping the benefits of that decision.”
I shift in the saddle. “Does that bother you?”
“Yes . . . no.” He shakes his head. “My first priority is my people, and as long as his actions are in their best interests, I don’t really care about the rest.”
“But . . .” I prod. He doesn’t answer, so I add, “Emotions aren’t always as simple as what we should and shouldn’t feel.”