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

25. Everil

Chapter twenty-five

Everil

Everil walked through the dying remains of Bo’s forest and watched the colors bleed from the landscape.

Since he’d returned, Nimai had been all soft words and praise. Their old friends had welcomed Everil back with bright smiles and sorrowful regrets over time spent apart. They had missed him, they said. (All except Declan, conspicuous in his absence.)

But Faerie drained itself of color in Everil’s presence, went muted and vague. If he trailed his hand along the tree trunks, it passed through. Brittle leaves of dead holly remained in his hair, no matter how he willed them away or picked them out.

Selfishly, Everil appreciated the punishment. At least Faerie recognized the magnitude of his betrayal. He could feel it with each breath. The ache of Bo’s absence. The wrongness of it. The anger and hurt and sorrow from Bo, which Everil alternately tried to ignore and dwelled on with masochistic focus.

Two days. Only one thousand and ninety-three to go, though Bo would doubtless decide to break the bond well before that. Everil suspected Bo had only allowed it to remain in place this long for Talia’s sake. And that wouldn’t last. Nimai had spoken to her while Everil met with Bo, and she’d apparently been very clear about her feelings toward Everil.

Bo would look after her until she chose a new guardian. Bo was a good man. Everil, as Bo had made clear, was a raging asshole.

An oak tree or the memory of one. A dry riverbed. Everil sat, picking up a shed oak leaf and watching the color leech from it at his touch. Gray as river stones, and why shouldn’t it be? There was no Summer King here. No pleasure, given or taken.

Only Everil. Only cold and weeds and rot .

“Are you well, my love?” Nimai’s voice was as warm as Everil felt cold. As full of love as Everil was hollow of it.

He brought color with him, sandy browns and sage greens, a desert in his footsteps. Everil’s throat closed at the taste of cinnamon in the air.

“Did you require me?” he asked. Calm. Flat. Obedient.

“Path of least fucking resistance.”

Pathetic. He was pathetic.

“Here now, you look cold.” Nimai drew a cloak from the air, fox fur and velvet, and draped it over Everil’s shoulders. “There. That’s better.”

“You’re too kind.”

Gray rock to coarse sand. A gust of chill wind, turning trees to smoke.

“Silly creature.” Nimai plucked a holly leaf from Everil’s hair, crushing it and dropping the fragments in the dirt. “What would you do without me?”

Ruin everything. Hurt the people he cared for most.

It was better that he was with Nimai now. Nimai knew how to put up with him. How to rein him in. And Bo was safe. Whatever the cost, to both of them, Bo was safe.

“Embarrass myself,” he said because he knew his lines. Amazing, how quickly it all came back.

Tolerable, as Bo had said. Easier than fighting.

“You needn’t fret about that. Not anymore. You’ve got me to take care of you. Everyone’s so happy to have you back. Haven’t you noticed?”

Nimai’s hand returned to Everil’s hair, and Everil’s skin crawled at the wrongness of it. There was a time when he would have happily begged for even this much of Nimai’s affection. Would have prostrated himself for a half-hearted compliment or a gentle touch. He sat, still and gray as the missing stones, jaw tense and breathing steady.

“Yes,” he said. Agreement was generally safest.

“And why wouldn’t they be? You’ve been so pleasant these past days. So respectable.”

They should have thrilled him, those words. He’d tried so hard for so long to earn them.

“Thank you.”

“Come along now. Veroni and Kesk invited us to a little soiree. Most of the Council will be there. We can’t miss the opportunity to make a good impression. I fear you’ve left us with more than a little ground to make up. ”

“I’ll be along,” Everil said. He didn’t want to leave what remained of Bo’s forest. Not yet.

“ Now , Caroves.”

Everil flinched at the use of his true name, bracing himself for the lash of hunger, of power taken until the world went white. It didn’t come. Nimai wasn’t his bond. Not yet. Somehow, the anticipation remained.

“Of course,” he said, rising to his feet. “I wouldn’t wish to make us late.”

“Don’t fret, my love. I’m not angry. You’re doing your best.” He set his arm on Everil’s, grip gentle. “Now, then. Let’s show everyone that it’s all in the past, shall we? I’m so pleased with you.”

Everil bowed his head and matched Nimai’s steps with his own, unobjecting. He had told Bo once, that he was the river. But as they walked away from the barren remains of what had once been flowing water, Everil couldn’t remember what that meant.

A palace of ice, down to the flowers in the gardens and the tame crystalline animals that circulated among the guests. Veroni and Kesk had made their territory brutally cold, each breath clouding the air, turning to snow, and falling. The guests, in deference to the theming, wore white or blue, rich furs and trailing dresses.

At the center of it was Veroni, looking like a statue of silver and ivory. Ethereal and perfect, her gown the red and orange of flame.

It made for a dramatic display.

Everil wore a suit, tailored and precise. Meticulous, in the way of Nimai’s magics. But even he couldn’t convince Faerie on the topic of color. Pale gray, accented with silver, in place of the stark white the brownie had intended.

“No matter,” Nimai said, patting Everil’s arm as they left one chattering group and headed toward the next. “The subtlety suits you. Do try to smile a bit more, my love.”

Everil smiled.

“That’s better. Now, we best say hello to our hostess. She’ll be so glad to see you again. Without distractions.”

Without Bo. When last Everil had faced Veroni, she had insulted his bond and betrayed Everil’s trust. And now he would smile and shake her hand and tell her how lovely she looked .

Pathetic.

“Nimai!” Kesk’s voice, dragging Everil’s unwilling attention to him. He stepped in front of them, brow furrowed with apparent displeasure. Veroni, at least, was busy with their other guests. “And Everil.”

“Kesk, my friend,” Nimai replied. Everil recognized the warning note in his voice, though he wasn’t sure what he was being warned against. “Everil and I were just going to say our hellos to your lovely bond. Would you join us?”

“I came to find you, actually. We need to speak.” Kesk turned his attention to Everil and managed a sort of smile. “Politics, Everil. Don’t let us bore you.”

“Go fetch us drinks, my love.” Nimai patted Everil’s arm, then released it. “Wait for me by the fountain.”

“Good to see you,” Kesk added, almost as if he meant it.

Everil couldn’t force himself to return the sentiment. He nodded, stiffly, and wove through the crowd toward a frozen table and the flame-licked delicacies waiting there. He’d only just reached it when a new voice interrupted his thoughts.

“How lovely to see you, Everil. May I join you?” Leana’s voice was unmistakable. He turned to find her waiting, clad in shimmering blue and white. Towering. Strange to see her thus, when Nimai always glamoured his height to match Everil’s. “Trilyn had questions about the pie. He’s trying to improve.”

It hurt just to look at her. Memories twisting like a knife.

Honey licked from gentle fingers. Unsteady, eager breaths. Bo, bound and willing, wearing only a crown of oak and epimedium.

Everil’s hand fell away from the frozen champagne flutes. It would be extraordinarily rude not to speak with Leana, regardless of what he might wish. Nimai would be displeased if he didn’t make an attempt at sociability.

“Leana. It’s an honor. Though I fear I know little of baking.”

“Even better. No biases toward various types of butter. “ Leana reached past him, taking two champagne flutes. “Would you mind terribly if we scooted from the crowd? I’m afraid I’m no longer used to a great many voices all at once.”

In truth, Everil did mind. Terribly. Leana’s every word, every smile, cut new furrows into wounds that would never heal. But his hurt was immaterial. Deserved.

He checked the crowd, but Nimai and Kesk had disappeared somewhere, leaving Everil to manage the social scene as best as he might on his own.

“What would you do without me.”

Useless, alone. Worse than useless.

“Whatever you prefer.” Everil offered Leana his arm. “The gardens are quieter.”

Leana took his arm, foisting one of the flutes off on him as she allowed him to lead her toward the gardens.

This was how it was supposed to go. Laughing partygoers. Crystal flowers blooming on foliage made of hoarfrost. Elegant entertainment and the chance to charm. Everil, off his lead rope but docile. A credit to his House. To Nimai.

“The questions are limited,” Leana admitted, laughing voice unapologetic. “They consist of ‘Did you like it?’ and ‘Were the apples too soft?’.”

Everil took a sip of the champagne. It spoiled to vinegar on his tongue. Rot. A blackened berry fell from his hair to the ice-rimed path.

“You may tell Trilyn that we enjoyed it. I. I enjoyed it. The apples were fine.”

“I’ll do so. It’ll make his day, I’m sure.” Leana watched him over her glass, and Everil knew she wasn’t yet done with him. “At the risk of being rude, Everil, I’m somewhat surprised, I suppose, to hear of your current choice of companion.”

“I’m sure many are saying the same of Nimai.” He turned the glass in his hands, as the rich gold of the liquid inside began to dim. “Please don’t take my actions as a lack of gratitude for your time and judgment. Unfortunately, the final trial went poorly.”

“Ah,” Leana said, after a long stretch of silence. “I’d wondered why the fruit went sharp. I met Bo once before. Did you know? When he was young and still caught in his parents’ web. Very earnest. Sweet.” The brownie sighed, shaking her head. “May I take from your presence that the Council didn’t have him killed?”

“Bo is safe.” Ridiculous, that a protective growl still entered Everil’s voice. But there it was. “You’re correct that I’d not be in attendance, otherwise. He is … hostage to my good behavior.”

And he should not have admitted that. Not to Leana, not to anyone. But what would any fae care how a human might be used? Nimai could hardly fault him for honesty.

Though he would.

“How very disappointing.” Leana clicked her tongue, all prim disapproval. “Nimai, dear. Not you. I expect brownies to know better than to poison their homes.”

“Nimai has always been very possessive of his things.” If Leana was disapproving, Everil was merely flat. “I indulged my feelings to Bo’s harm. It was foolish of me to think matters might be other than they’ve always been. ”

“You are not a bauble for the living room shelves,” Leana admonished gently. “You are a person, separate from either of them. It’s not foolish to reach for something that brings you joy. It takes bravery to do so, particularly when–” Another soft click of her tongue, and she shook her head. “I apologize. That was inappropriate of me. My intention wasn’t to lecture you.”

“You may as well speak your mind.” Everil’s lips twisted into the barest ghost of a bitter smile. “I grew quite accustomed to bluntness in Bo’s presence. Though he would take exception to your views on the topic. He made it exceptionally clear what he thinks of me.”

“He is charmingly open with his thoughts. I imagine having that openness turned against you to be unpleasant. It went ill, then, your parting?”

“He considers me a coward. And a traitor. And he is correct. But I’d rather his hatred than his blood on my hands.”

“Forgive me if I missed something in the telling of it. But from what I know of the young man, it seems unlike him to name you such.”

“Your pardon. In Bo’s parlance, a ‘raging asshole’ who takes the path of least resistance.” Everil echoed the words with a certain amount of relish. With Bo no longer around to shout at him, he was left to do it himself. “I overrode his wishes in this. And to Bo, that’s unforgivable.”

He couldn’t have borne it, seeing Bo in the state that he’d found Lawrence, knowing he could have prevented it. He was a coward, yes. But he couldn’t have borne it.

“Self-pity doesn’t become you, dear. Nor self-destruction.” Leana studied Everil sidelong, her glass turning in her fingers. “In my many years of experience, such unkindness speaks of someone who very much hoped to be fought for in the way they could understand. May I know the terms set in the arrangement with Nimai? Not to gossip or spread about later. I’m simply very nosy, as my boys would say.”

Self-destruction was, at this point, Everil’s sole entertainment. So why not continue to let Leana dig the blade deeper?

“Three years of good behavior, in exchange for Bo’s safety. And so, as you see, I’m doing the circuit as a show pony.”

“All you’re missing is the ribbons.” Leana laughed. So easy. So happy . It hurt as much as the rest of it.

“Luckily for me, ribbons don’t suit the party’s aesthetic.” The champagne in Everil’s glass had lost all color and the bitter vinegar within curdled on his tongue with every sip. Still, he drank it.

“I’ll admit to feeling for the boy, some,” Leana said, seemingly as much to herself as to him. “A life spent picking up the pieces of what his parents broke. Of always being watched. There is that to say of your deal. No fae society to gawk at him and no embarrassment for you.”

Strange, that she should know of Bo’s past. But she had claimed to have met him as a boy. And Leana was known for wandering both realms, collecting her foundlings.

“Bo dislikes discussion of his parents or family,” Everil said, quiet but firm. “And if you were to mingle further, you’d learn I was an embarrassment long before he found me.”

Leana’s brows lifted slightly at the correction, but no more than that. “But surely, he makes the burden of shame greater? Forgive me, but it was difficult not to mark how you held yourself around him.”

What had that to do with Bo? The judgment of Faerie was for Everil. His failures. His departures from what was appropriate. His weak, clinging need. Of course, he held himself apart from Bo. He had spent centuries in Nimai’s company and longer in his father’s before that. Learning how to behave outside his nature. How to be good and right. Failing at it, again and again.

It was shameful. How he put Bo at risk. How he longed for his touch and his support instead of offering the stalwart strength the man deserved. How he let him down and let him down and let him down.

Bo had understood that Everil’s censure was only for himself. For Bo’s safety. He’d known that.

Had he known that?

“The last thing Bo needed was for me to trespass on Protocol and give our detractors the right to act against us.”

Which they had, in the end. It hadn’t helped. Because Everil could do nothing right.

“What would you do without me?”

“And here you are, the very picture of Protocol.” Her elegant gesture took in the gardens and the guests. “You’ve given up years of your life to this, to his safety. That’s nothing to scoff at, whatever the puffed-up masses might think. It gives him time to calm as well; come around to whatever plan you might have for three years from now. ”

“In three years, Bo will have found someone who better deserves him. Someone he doesn’t despise. And I–” He would likely be here, or somewhere very like, dead leaves falling into his colorless champagne. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll find somewhere quiet if Nimai is satisfied. Or remain the show pony if Bo proves correct, and he is safer while I do so.”

“With all due respect,” Leana spoke slowly, her gaze now fixed on Everil, “if my bond said to me, ‘to save your life, we are going to be apart for three years, after which I expect you to find yourself in a relationship with someone else, while I linger in a realm separate from yours,’ I very well might call them a ‘raging asshole’ myself.”

Everil blinked at her, clouded despair giving way to confusion. He was clearly misspeaking. She was fae. She should understand this. What he owed to Bo. How ill he had served him.

“I fear the topic of the future isn’t one we had an opportunity to discuss. He was angry, and I wouldn’t have so presumed.” He looked away, briefly, scanning the gardens. No sign of Nimai, yet. “What would you have your bondmate do, were you in Bo’s position? Spirit you away with a knife between their teeth? Hide you away and chain you to a life of fear?”

“I’d not say no to a handsome man with a knife between his teeth.”

Everil shook his head. “It would have been selfish of me to attempt to bind us yet closer. I tried to keep him, and he nearly died for my greed. Repeatedly. I couldn’t allow that to become the pattern of his days.”

“And so you gave him nothing to hold onto? It’s so easy to doubt you’re important to someone in times of stress if you aren’t reminded. Especially when being left behind.”

He had tried. He’d told Bo he was everything. (And Bo hadn’t believed him.)

“I had no right to ask,” Everil objected, even as Leana’s words slid under his skin with the clean surety of a razor.

He had tried, as best he could in the moment, to be considerate. To allow Bo his anger without reproach or question. He wasn’t meant to ask questions. He was meant to simply know and behave accordingly.

“I won’t make you guess.”

Had he left Bo to guess?

It didn’t matter. It was too late.

“There you are, my wild horse.” Nimai’s voice cut through the garden, confident and loud. “Leana, so good to see you. Thank you for keeping an eye on my Everil. I feared he’d gotten himself lost. ”

“A pleasure, Nimai, as always. The fault is mine.” Leana smiled at Nimai, warm and easy, as if she hadn’t just been interrogating Everil on the topic Nimai would least want mentioned. “Everil made an impression on one of my shy boys. Trilyn bid me to interrogate him on baking, should I see him again.”

The glance Nimai shot Everil was quizzical but not displeased. Whatever he’d thought Everil had been up to, a discussion about baking clearly hadn’t made his list.

“Aren’t you the surprise,” he said, stepping in and pressing a kiss to Everil’s cheek. He turned the whole of his bright attention to Leana then, offering her a half bow. “We’ll have to have you and Trilyn over.”

“Wouldn’t that be delightful?” And with the way she beamed, it was difficult to believe the prior conversation had ever happened.

“I fear the lands are a bit unkempt at the moment. But I’m taking them in hand,” Nimai, too, beamed. “A little discipline, and they’ll be set to rights.”

Everil considered interjecting, but there was no need. Nimai had taken over the conversation. Everil stepped back, quiet and unassuming. He studied his glass, the brown holly leaf still floating in the colorless champagne.

Tolerable, as Bo had said. It was all so very tolerable.