An Embrace of Citrus & Snow (Fallen for a Fae #1)

24. Bo

Chapter twenty-four

Bo

The room to the right consisted of very white walls that looked like they were made out of marble, floor and ceiling included. No light fixtures, despite being fucking bright inside, no more ornate decorations that screamed ‘ I’m very secure with myself and my lot in life,’ not even a single fucking chair.

Just a colorless, cold floor in a place with nothing to look at except the outline of a door. Bo wedged himself in the far corner, sitting on said cold-ass white floor.

“This is fucked,” he said, if only to hear something. It didn’t even echo. “Hear that, Veroni? Kesk? Declan already made us sit in corners and think about what we’d done. You’re not even being creative.”

Silence.

Fuck.

Silence, except for Bo, his fingers tapping on his knees. Humming. Fidgeting. All while keeping his eyes on the door and talking out loud and pointedly not thinking about a horror novel he read years ago where someone was tortured in a sensory deprivation tank.

Yeah. Definitely not thinking about it.

Only Ever’s emotions gave him something to hold on to. Shame, guilt, anger. Feelings he’d mostly gotten used to over the last few days, all of it muted by magic or distance, like with Suire in the woods.

And. Yeah. It hadn’t escaped his notice that he’d gotten used to those shitty feelings because they cropped up whenever a fae showed up. Mention the bond, or have a fae so much as glance in their direction, and Ever became a statue, carved of self-loathing in shame.

One common denominator, every time .

The aforementioned common denominator closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the wall.

“Correlation isn’t causation, you paranoid, anxious fuck. Shit can coincide without it being related. You fucking idiot.”

Robin’d drilled that into his head more than once, insults and all, when they’d been younger. Bo, trying to be understanding, had tried to blame Robin’s diagnosis for, well, a lot of things. Arguments. Old hurts. The fact that Robin was a prickly shit. Turned out Bo was a misinformed asshole, and Robin was just a prickly shit who also had a couple pills to take each day.

Fuck, Bo needed to get through this. Needed to see his brother again. Robin’d be furious if Bo died in a blank white box in Faerie.

Not that he’d know. He’d just–

No. Everil had promised. He’d promised .

Bo pushed the thoughts of Robin away. There were other things to think about. Like what Leana had said about the citrus grove and being honor-bound. Or the little oak crown that nestled tight in his hair, refusing to budge.

It manifested an acorn, though, dropping it into his hand. Something to fidget with. Bo tossed it from hand to hand, grateful for the distraction.

The door opened just as he caught the acorn for the fiftieth time. Bo shoved himself to his feet with a mutter of, “Thank fuck , this is the worst goddamn trial.”

Ever, in the doorway, and fuck, Bo’d missed him. Missed him and–

Something was wrong.

Ever’s feelings went from muffled to front and fucking center as soon as he crossed the threshold. A wall of terrible shit, slamming down around the both of them, dragging at Bo the same way those spinning fair rides always had. That fucking guilt again, but different. Protectiveness, so much of it, and it wasn’t like either of them had failed the trial.

Right?

Despair. Bleak and hopeless.

“ Fuck , Ever.” Bo flinched but didn’t slow his quick stride over to the kelpie.

Ever looked … gray. Colors drained from him at the edges, the sharp leaves of his crown gone dull and brown, caught in Ever’s hair more by luck than shape. Holly rained down when he looked at Bo, spoiled berries hitting the floor with a heavy, wet sound.

“Bo,” Ever said, his voice absolutely hollow . Flat. Detached. “I would speak with you. Please. ”

Bo reached up, tugging a leaf from his hair. Ever leaned into the touch, his breath shuddering and unsteady.

This was fine. Bo was fine. They were fine. Maybe Bo hadn’t gone through his own challenge yet; it wasn’t as if Kesk could call shit invalid, not with the door open now. This wasn’t a figment situation, not like Declan’s trial. Not with the bond singing at their touch.

“Yeah, fuck. Of course. What the fuck happened?” Bo ran his fingers over Ever’s cheek, skin gone pale and freckles standing out. “You sound like shit.”

Ever shuddered and, only then, glanced up to meet his eyes. Their gazes locked, dull gray to worried blue.

“Nimai,” Ever said, quiet and level. “He was waiting for me. I couldn’t– We struck a deal.”

Bo went cold.

A drafty attic with a few dusty, newly opened boxes. A near-empty hallway in a courthouse, tunnel vision to keep from hyperventilating as the world crashes down. Again.

“That’s not funny.”

“I would not make light of this.” Ever didn’t even swallow, didn’t flinch, only kept his eyes on Bo. “It was that or– Kesk and Veroni consider humans beneath their hospitality. You weren’t safe.”

Bo took a half step back, his hand falling away. The holly leaf fell to pieces, drifting to the floor.

“What was the deal?” His eyes hurt. At least he could still breathe. There was that. He couldn’t, back in the attic, that first time his world had crumbled.

Like a dry leaf.

“Three years for your life,” Ever answered, in the same blank, defeated tones. “I’m to remain with Nimai. You’re to return to your realm. I have his oath he won’t harm you or yours nor cause you to come to harm. Not in that time or after.”

Ever paused, looking to the side, then back. Waiting. Waiting like he always did for Bo to be the one to move things along. Even while he laid out in not so many words that everything that happened still landed him back with Nimai. Exactly the thing Bo’d fought against from the start.

Robin would know the right words. Fucker had a feelings wheel in his bedroom. There had to be something for the burn at the back of Bo’s throat and the weight of his limbs.

Betrayed. Horrified. Insignificant. Deceived .

Another safe space turned against him. Belief put in someone who’d only be there until something happened that’d take too much effort to fix.

“Fuck you,” Bo managed to get out, the sound between a whisper and a hiss, tongue thick with dust and cobwebs. He took another step back. He felt sick. Antonio’s words echoed; Ever using him as the fucking reason to do what he’d been trying to do since Bo fucked his plans up. “You raging asshole.”

A day ago, Bo wouldn’t have even thought the words. But hell, a day ago, Bo’d thought they meant something so, shit changed.

Adoration and summer kings. Fuck him. And fuck Bo for believing him.

“I’ve betrayed you. Gravely.”

“That’s one fucking way to put it. Anything else?”

He hoped there was nothing else.

Ever swallowed but kept on speaking, unmoving and still and nothing in his goddamn expression. “Our bond remains until you will it otherwise. But it will be painful, the separation. I won’t ask you to maintain it. If you would have me break it, I’ll do what’s necessary.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Nothing about a future. Nothing about after the three years. Nothing, because that’s what Bo was worth, since it turned out fae could fucking lie after all.

“You won’t be injured.”

Bo laughed. Disbelief, anger, and hurt mixed in, making it a hoarse, ugly sound, punctuated by the rough drag of his fingers through mussed hair. His own, because the thought of touching Ever’s in the moment made his stomach twist.

Couldn’t even apologize. Just made fucking statements as he, kelpie, gorgeous and hollow and hurting and the worst piece of shit, made all Bo’s worst fears true and didn’t even apologize .

He could flinch, though. Ever could flinch and step away, his eyes dropping to the floor. And Bo, Bo wasn’t even able to take joy in it. He just wanted to hug the fucking kelpie and make it better, but instead there was fucking this .

“So long as I’m not bleeding, it doesn’t count, that what it fucking is?” Bo’s traitorous voice broke. Shook. Everything shook. “No. Fuck that. You’re the one making the big choices around here, and fuck what I think. That’s on you.” And god, it hurt, knowing that was true. “Your decision to sign me up for three years of pain or living forever with the knowledge that, at my goddamn request, you hurt yourself even more by breaking the bond. Fuck you for trying to put that on me.”

And Ever, quiet, fragile Ever, took another step back. Looking so damned small. Spoke in a voice barely a whisper and still even . Calm. “It’s on me, yes. I don’t wish to– It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it fucking matters!”

Goddamn him, Ever flinched again. Any other time before, Bo would’ve tugged him close, stroked the dead leaves from his hair, brushed a kiss to his gray-tinged forehead. But any other time before, Bo hadn’t needed a goddamn hug himself. Needed to be reassured that this wasn’t what it fucking felt like.

He needed–

Bo needed Ever to fucking care outside of his own hurt feelings. To do anything except embody Bo’s every intrusive thought while doing nothing .

“Bo, this is how I can protect you.” And still, he looked at the goddamn floor. “Not from pain, but what he would intend for you. I know it’s selfish. But I can’t bear to be the reason you’re lost.”

Ever’d fucked him on an altar, Bo broken and vulnerable, and talked about adoring him. About obligations and how he’d not give in to them because he wanted Bo.

The memory tasted like acid and oil-slick shame. Not snowmelt.

“You know what’s going to fucking happen? If, and it’s a big fucking if , you decide I’m worth the impropriety and constant rockslide of shame, and come find me in three years, Nimai’s just going to swoop back in with another threat. Another goddamn promise.” Trampled grass, ripped up from careless boots, hammered by rain until flat and broken. Spat words that stung like his eyes, and Ever wouldn’t fucking look at him . “Especially if he said he’d not hurt ‘Oberon,’ which I’m betting he did. Bet you didn’t tell him otherwise, either. Maybe he’ll say it doesn’t fucking count.”

Ever didn’t speak. He stayed silent and still like he always did. With Nimai. With the Council. Every fucking time.

No protest. No promise he still wanted Bo.

“My money’s on you deciding it’s not so fucking bad, though.” So fucking ugly. Bo’s mouth just kept running. “If it’s not worse than last time. If he gives you something proper and tells you you’re doing alright. Not worth it to fight for a random human you only had for three days, one you didn’t even want . Not if the fight’s something you can’t fucking hit. Take the path of least fucking resistance, and it’s tolerable . ”

“This is all I have.” The words just a breath of shaking sound. “You’re worth everything.”

They sounded so fucking sweet, trembling and only audible because of the stark nothingness of the room.

Bo stared at Ever’s downturned face, the spill of black hair and brown twigs. War prizes.

Logically, Bo knew Ever couldn’t guess what he needed. He knew that Ever didn’t defend himself unless Bo gave him space and asked him. That maybe he’d not think he should say more than ‘I’m leaving you for Nimai; have fun in your realm.’ Bo’s realm, like Faerie hadn’t claimed him.

“No, I’m not.” Bo’s voice was raw with hurt, and his eyes blurred as he struggled not to say something shitty. Like, “ Don’t keep Nimai waiting, Everil .”

He kept his mouth shut for once.

Ever glanced up, and Bo caught a brief glimpse of those gray eyes before he was gone. A wall that hadn’t been there before, was. White as the others, and Bo on his own again.

Bo scrubbed hard at his eyes, trying to breathe something that wasn’t the memory of stale, dusty air and molding cardboard boxes. What came out was a soft, thin noise, quieted only by his teeth catching his lower lip. Then he was on the floor, his face pressed to his knees, sobbing silently with his pursed-shut lips.

Ever’s feelings muffled again, distant, and Bo, with his fingers too tight on his elbows, left abandoned in this fucking hell .

“It’ll be better for you both when you’re home,” a soft voice said from behind him, melodic and sad. Familiar. “Your kind aren’t meant for this world, human.”

Bo scrambled to his feet, breath caught fast as he leaned on the wall for balance. Pressed his back against it and faced her. Fiadh, the selkie in her fur cloak, watching Bo like he was the threat here.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Bo said, words hiccupping, thick. “This is the– What the fuck are you doing here?”

Fiadh looked past him, mournful and quiet. Bo didn’t turn, pressing himself harder against the cold marble.

“I said,” Bo repeated, a hard edge creeping into his still-shaking voice. “The fuck are you doing here?”

“And I said, your kind isn’t meant for this world,” Fiadh whispered, too close now. A riot of heavy auburn curls and huge, sweet eyes framed by thick lashes. Pale skin gone silver-brown and textured. “We poison you as much as you do us, human. Fae only hurt your people, even if we care for them. Wanting him will only hurt you.”

A lullaby, that’s what she sounded like. Sad, fucking mournful . Haunting. Bo froze, staring at her. Fiadh smiled. It matched her voice. Her eyes. Her fingers were achingly gentle on his cheek.

“I loved my husband,” she sang or whispered or cried. “He stole my pelt. I had no choice but to love him. He betrayed me. Over and over, he betrayed me.”

Bo could’ve moved if he’d tried. Her fingertips traced from temple to jaw, not holding him. Fiadh didn’t press closer, stayed just near enough to touch, no seduction in it. It was fine.

Yeah, he could move. He just needed to want to.

Fiadh really did have a beautiful voice.

“Humans were made to hurt things other than themselves, fierce hunter. They pull us, no matter what Velriks says. There’s always one with a hand on our pelts. Our love,” her thumb on his cheekbone, “damages you more than our hate, in the end. You leave us ugly inside. It’s better to forget.”

“I don’t want to forget,” Bo managed to say. He was angry at Ever, fucking furious, betrayal still bright in the bond. But forget? No.

No .

“You will.” Both hands curled over his cheeks; Fiadh’s voice was nothing so much as a sweet, mournful croon. “You will, human. It’s kinder for you this way. I just need to … ah .”

“You look like shit.”

A trinket on a table. A beautiful man, stepping away.

Warmth in his arms, the scent of old places and wood and snowmelt. A spill of dark hair and clinging hands.

“My Summer King.”

“Right at the surface for me.” Sea black eyes and depth cold hands, the voice coming from a distance, now. Far away as the waves crashed over him. “That’s right, sweet warrior. Let me in. Don’t try to hide them. Struggling will only hurt you.”

“Sweet Bo.”

“No.” Begging, helpless fury. Oak leaves curling over his ears as ivy spiraled out over the wall, acorn heavy in his hand .

Icy fingers reached in, brushing over … gorgeous fucking freckles, and they were on the couch, relief and self-loathing .

“The separation is easier when there’s nothing to miss,” the voice coaxed. “It’s better for you. You don’t want to live with it, do you? Knowing you’re unwanted.”

No, he didn’t want to forget. He wanted…

“There we go. I’ve found him. All will be peaceful for you soon. Home and safe. Just let go. You don’t need to fight anymore.”

Bo managed a shaking, near silent: “Fuck you.”

The world shattered into bottomless oceans and brambles in the undergrowth; oak leaves gone with the tide. Bo grabbed for them. Then he, too, dissolved into the sea.