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

29. Everil

Chapter twenty-nine

Everil

“Zenar sends her apologies for the confusion,” said Lysander, the young, extremely confused Gate sworn to Kesk’s house. “Talia’s been an honored guest.”

Zenar’s house, actually. And Kesk’s mother had not been pleased to hear of her son’s side dealings. Kesk and Veroni might stand to inherit Faerie, but they led nothing, yet.

“You may send her to us here,” Everil answered, trying not to be cruel to the boy. He was no older than Talia. “I believe we’ve enjoyed quite enough of Kesk’s hospitality.”

“Hospitality,” Bo muttered, and Everil tightened his arm around him. “Fuck.”

Everil would spend the rest of his shortened life regretting what a fool he’d been, leaving Bo to Kesk’s non-existent mercy. Tasting Bo’s lemon-sharp fear and knowing what had put it there.

“Kesk won’t–” But whatever Lysander intended to say, he cut it off with a sharp shake of his head. “I’m sorry.”

The Gate departed, and Everil pulled Bo that much closer, trying to think only of this moment. Not of Declan, who had arranged this little exchange. Declan, who he’d soon owe his firstborn to if he kept asking favors of the man. Not of Nimai, the betrayal in his expression, at the end. Not of Kesk and Veroni, who weren’t the types to forgive an embarrassment.

Only of Bo. Safe in his arms.

A rush of power. A hole rent through Faerie itself, and a small figure in an oversized hoodie, taking shape from the nothingness of the veil.

“No fair ,” Talia complained as the room stitched itself together behind her. “If you’re dramatically kidnapped and held hostage, someone is supposed to tell you. Where’s the fun if you don’t know?“ She blinked at them, grinning. “Oh, you’re doing the cuddling thing. Do you want me to come back? Lysander’s actually really nice. I taught him how to play ‘find the human.’ ”

“It’s not all that fun when you know, kid. Trust me.” Bo squeezed Everil’s arm, then moved away, toward Talia. He set both hands on her shoulders, studying her. “You okay? They keep you in hoodies while you spied on random people?”

“Of course I’m okay,” Talia answered, giggling at the possibility that she might be anything but. “They acted like you two were still doing your trials. And then all the sudden, you weren’t, and it was all ‘maybe there might have been some potentially misleading statements made.’ You know. Fae talk.”

“Yeah,” Bo echoed. “Standard fae talk.”

“The trials are well over,” Everil assured her, stepping closer to the pair. “They have accepted the truth of our bond.”

“I could have told them that.” Talia gave a little shrug, then frowned at them. “You’re wearing magic hats. Is that a trial thing? Do I get a magic hat? I was kidnapped, after all.”

“It was a part of our trials, but I don’t think it’s standard issue. More an Oak King, Holly King thing,” Bo said, giving Talia a final once-over before returning to Everil’s side.

“You’re not even dryads,” Talia said, brow furrowed in confusion.

Everil silently cursed his mother as he noted yet another lacking area in his ward’s education. Though, an explanation of this particular ritual would require a bit of thoughtful editing.

“Old magic,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around Bo’s shoulders to tuck him closer. “Which you will be studying, among other topics of note.”

“Besides, you’ve got an alien hat waiting for you, kid. Would an old hoodie from my teen years with a cringe-worthy faux-edgy statement on it help calm your frazzled, kidnapped nerves?”

”I guess .” She grinned, all sunlight and mischief, then fixed Everil with a hopeful look. “It is fixed, right? All of it? You wouldn’t be talking about lessons if it wasn’t.”

“It’s fixed.” Everil wasn’t Bo. He didn’t touch Talia, for all it seemed the appropriate action. But he smiled, hoping she’d find reassurance in that. “You win, Talia. You get to keep your human guardian. And Nimai is no longer a concern.”

There were still matters to consider. The Council, mostly. But even the Council couldn’t overrule a Gate. And given the poor behavior of some of its members, Everil trusted they wouldn’t push their point regarding Bo’s profession any further. If they tried, well, Everil would see every last one of them drown before he let them take Bo from his arms.

“He’s underselling it somewhat,” Bo put in. “But yeah, kid. I’m sticking around for a good while. Like, around you and Ever. Haven’t really talked living arrangements, but we’ll figure it out.”

Talia’s face lit with a grin, and she bounced forward, throwing her arms around Bo despite the lack of available space for hugging.

“I knew it. I said you wouldn’t leave us. I told Lysander that you’d promised.” She looked up at Everil without letting go of Bo. “Are you gonna do oaths? Can I be witness?”

“You’re getting ahead of us, Talia.”

“You could do a human marriage too. With lots of crying and a cake. And someone who stands up and says, ‘I object.’ I think you need a long-lost evil twin for that part, though. Or maybe the one getting married is supposed to be the evil twin? I can never keep it straight.” She stepped back, assessing Bo with a critical eye. “Would you say you’re more of a good twin or an evil twin?”

“Definitely the evil twin. I probably absorbed the good one in the womb,” Bo answered.

How could anyone help but love a man capable of making Talia smile the way Bo did?

“Oh, good. The evil twins are always more fun.”

“Perhaps we could plan this hypothetical wedding another time?” Everil interjected. “There are matters that yet require us.”

“The Council?” Talia asked with a melodramatic sigh. “Lysander said something about the Council.”

Bo leaned in a little heavier at the mention. It’d been mere hours since they confronted Nimai. Less than a day since Bo’s confinement. The man had already faced so much.

“Guessing they got to do the official ‘we were wrong, and it looks like you’re bonded after all’ with a side helping of ‘Everil, keep your human not-pet from spilling information about us online’?”

“I don’t recommend holding out for any actual admission of apology. But we will have to face them again, in an official capacity.”

“Tell them if they mess with you again, I’ll feed them to the void.” Talia crossed her arms, and there was a flicker of real danger behind the teenage insolence .

“You’re not feeding anyone to the void. You have your oath to consider. If anyone is rude enough to deserve being eaten, I’ll take care of them myself.” Everil’s tone went very, very dry. “And wash my face after.”

“Definitely wash your face after,” Bo agreed with a slow, pleased smile.

“Voids get hungry, too,” Talia complained. “Fine. The Council. But I’m not leaving this time.”

“Eventually,” Everil said. “The Council should have called us as soon as Nimai– As soon as matters turned the way they did. They did not. I believe it’s their turn to bide for a bit.”

“I’m not gonna argue with making the fuckers wait.”

“If I count correctly, there’s time yet to make your prior engagement with your family.” Everil did his best to keep the nerves out of his own voice. He’d faced down Faerie’s version of Bo’s brother. He could face the real thing as well. “The Council can wait until after.”

Bo glanced up, his surprise evident through their bond. And the fondness, the love that washed through after, was nearly enough to knock Everil from his feet.

“That would be fucking amazing.” The genuine relief in Bo’s voice brought a hesitant smile to Everil’s lips. “Yeah, yes. Fuck, that’d be great. It’ll probably keep them from filing a missing person’s report if they haven’t already. Phones don’t work here.”

The Council would not be pleased. But what did it matter? Everil no longer had to concern himself over properly serving the ambitions of another. Bo’s happiness, on the other hand, was within his remit.

They would have to face the Council, of course. But not yet, not with Bo exhausted and bruised and his family waiting.

“Talia?” Everil prompted.

She grinned, all delight, and gestured grandly. “This way, gentlemen.”

The veil parted, allowing muggy heat to pour into the desert dryness. Bo’s home. His people. Waiting.

How long had it been since the start of this? Since Bo had stepped into Brookhaven and turned Everil’s life upside-down. A week? Perhaps a little more? Not much time, even as humans measured it. But enough, it turned out, to fall in love and defy everyone whose judgment Everil had once feared.

Bo’s Florida was all humid heat, the sky thick with clouds that failed to mitigate the discomfort of close, warm air. The place smelled of saltwater and moldering green. Not that Everil would ever speak ill of Bo’s home.

“I fucking hate Florida,” Bo said as Talia came back into existence. He squinted at the house before them, terracotta with gray-brown shingles and palm trees in the yard. “This is fall here. Good job navigating, kid.”

“It feels gross,” Talia muttered, leaving Everil alone in the camp of those attempting to be polite. “Wet.”

“Okay. Let’s do this.” Bo reached to take Everil’s hand. “And hope they don’t notice we didn’t bring a car.”

“I fear a car is beyond my ability to manifest.” Everil reached to chase away first his own holly crown, then the oak crown resting in Bo’s hair. Outside of Faerie, it was easy; the oak leaves turning to a shower of green and gold sparks. “Too much iron.”

“I don’t think even you could conjure up an entire rental car complete with alien hats, even without the iron. All those small, fiddly parts.”

Bo laughed, warm and delicious. And how, hearing that, could Everil drag his feet? He squeezed Bo’s hand, keeping to his side as they walked past the car in the driveway, the shriek of iron almost welcoming, after Faerie. He could do this. They’d knock on the door, and Bo would do the talking and–

The door flew open. And there was Robin, looking exactly as he had on the alder path.

“Hey,” Bo said. “I’m–”

“You fucking asshole .” Robin threw himself toward Bo, all gangly limbs and fierce love, which Bo met in kind, hugging his brother to him. “You absolute raging jerk, you went dark, and no one heard from you–”

“I’m fine. I promise. We got held up.”

Everil stepped back to let the brothers reconnect. This, like so much of Bo’s life, was outside the safety of the familiar. He had no siblings of his own. And even if he had, fae families rarely remained close. Decades, if not centuries, between births made for strained associations at best.

“ We should mean at least two damn phones on you, Bo.” Robin stepped back, clearly noticing Everil and Talia for the first time. Wary distrust in every line of him. “Oh.”

“Robin.” Everil kept his voice soft and controlled. Not unlike how he’d addressed the figment on the path. “I apologize for causing you distress. I fear we were … stranded in an area where phones don’t function effectively. It was entirely my fault, and Bo’s first priority was returning to you.”

“You’re the … friend,” Robin said, arching an eyebrow. “I’m going to pretend to believe you for now. Hi.” His gaze shifted to Talia then. “Hi to you, too.”

“Hi,” Talia piped in. “I’m your niece.”

That got Bo a look, sharp and puzzled.

“Talia, perhaps introductions before you claim a new relative.” Everil stepped further back, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Introductions inside,” said a new voice from the doorway. A woman, older than the brothers, though Everil was miserable at judging human age. Gray-brown hair and a flowing sundress. Bo’s Aunt Jan, at a guess. “Let the young man take the fall for Bo’s escapades if he wants to, Birdie. Inside, all of you, so I can shake my nephew, and we can all get acquainted. It’s too warm out to stand around in sweaters.”

“I understand if you both regret everything as of this moment,” Bo said, with a tired smile for Talia and Everil. He held his hand out, an invitation. One Everil would never again fail to take.

“If I cry in front of the neighbors,” Jan said as she stepped back into the house, “I’m holding you personally responsible, Bo.”

Everil, bracing himself, allowed Bo to lead him into the house. Talia, pushing forward to Jan’s side, clearly had no such hesitations.

“You’re Aunt Jan,” she said. “I’m Talia, and that’s Everil. Don’t worry, he’s alright, just shy. Bo says you’re gonna take me hitchhiking.”

“I said you’d tell Talia about hitchhiking,” Bo interjected, with a light tug at Everil’s hand, drawing him closer. “Please don’t actually take her.”

“Oh, I can tell you some stories,” Jan said, ushering Talia further into the house, Robin at her heels. “Just let me shake Bo and cry a bit first.”

For a moment, at least, it was only the two of them, standing just within the door. Everil took a breath, focusing on Bo, even as his thoughts began to spin with all he was unsure of.

“That went well,” Bo murmured, letting the screen door clatter shut. “Seriously. Robin didn’t flinch, and Jan didn’t hug me. You good?”

“Of course,” Everil answered carefully. But Bo would sense his unease and wouldn’t be angry at him for admitting to it. He squeezed his bond’s hand, glancing after Talia, then back to Bo. “I don’t know the Protocols here. And I’ve upset you before by misjudging them. I don’t wish to cause discord.”

“Well, if Robin offers you his bed, don’t take it. Feel free to crash with me in mine, though.”

At that jesting reminder of their first awkward night together, Everil smiled. It seemed impossibly long ago.

“Duly noted.”

“Don’t take Robin watching you personally. My aunt says he’s a bird as much as I am a cat. I’m good with you touching me how you usually do, and from the way Robin said ‘friend,’ it’ll shock fucking no one.” Bo spoke softly, occasionally glancing toward the living room, where his family waited. Jan still with Talia, and Robin frowning at his phone. “I told them your asshole ex was trying to get back with you, so they won’t ask for details. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. No one’ll get upset about it. You did good with Robin. It went well. No discord caused.”

With each sketched border and detail, Everil’s anxiety eased. This, a clear outline of what was and wasn’t expected, was what he needed. Bo was the first to understand that. To offer a path to walk along, instead of snapping at him for not simply knowing.

“Thank you,” he murmured, drawing Bo’s hand to his lips to brush a kiss across his fingertips. “Lead on, my Summer King.”

“You got it, my Winter Lord.” Bo offered him a crooked smile. “C’mon. Aunt Jan’s probably teaching our kid how to hotwire a fucking eighteen-wheeler.”

They entered the living room fully, all seashells and abstract paintings. Talia perched on a chair of bleached wood, looking up at Jan. Robin appeared yet more displeased.

“Hey, Bo? And … Everi? Everil.” The man’s voice was all wariness, and he looked between them, wide-eyed.

“Jesus,” Bo said. “You okay?”

“Our neighbors got broken into this spring.” Robin offered the non-sequitur as if it were of some import. “We got one of those smart video doorbells afterward. Just in case. Motion activated.”

Bo tensed beside him, emotions a tangle of tightly woven branches. Everil frowned, concerned without knowing what had upset him and Robin so.

“It’s how I saw you were here. It, um– It catches cars driving down the road. This is– Just– This is where you should tell me how you got here.”

“Cameras. Winter’s curse . I always forget about those,” Talia said, studying Robin with a little frown. “And I don’t think Everil knows what they are.”

“I’m familiar with the concept of videography,” Everil said, an absent correction as he attempted to understand.

It sunk in slowly. A puzzle of words placed into new context. Robin had, somehow, recorded their arrival. Their entirely magical arrival.

Talia chewed her bottom lip, a flash of guilt in her usually bright eyes. “I should’ve just taken us to the car.”

And Everil should have asked Bo how he wished to handle Everil’s nature with his family. It simply hadn’t occurred to him, flush with relief and wanting Bo to rest. Now, with Robin watching him through wide, distrusting eyes, it felt rather more pressing.

“Fuck, kid, I’m in no shape to drive.” Bo’s emotions were grapefruit rind and the shock of biting into unripe fruit. The man needed his family. “I’d pass out after an hour behind the wheel.”

“This conversation was inevitable,” Everil added, not knowing whom the statement was meant to reassure.

“Someone hurt you?” Robin asked, expression darkening.

Nearly at the same moment, Jan said simply, “Bo.”

How like Bo they were, so quick to grow protective. Now, if only they could prove half so open-minded.

“Yeah. But I’m fine now. We’re all good. We just…” He trailed off, leaning into Everil.

“The matter isn’t easily explained,” Everil added. “And Bo is without fault, in all that transpired.”

Releasing Bo’s hand, Everil drew him into his arms. Bo had given him license to touch, and he wasn’t going to ignore the old guilt stirring through his bondmate’s emotions.

“Bo,” Jan said, speaking in the soft way humans sometimes used with wounded animals. “Whatever you say, I’m not going to throw you out. No one is about to be set aside. What’s this about videography and cars?”

“It’s about kelpie.” Bo sounded somewhere between defeat and determination. “Fae. Liminal, all-powerful beings in hoodies. Soulbonds. Magic. Them being real, even if the shit I saw as a kid wasn’t.”

“Magic,” Jan said. “Are you sure? People are much better with special effects than they were twenty years ago. ”

Robin sat, birdlike in his wary regard. Everil tried to recall what he might have seen. The veil opening. The disappearance of Everil’s holly crown. Bo’s, too. Gone in a shower of green and gold sparks.

“As best as I understand it, Bo has devoted himself to identifying the deceptions used to create false magic.” Everil kept his voice soothing, for Bo’s sake. “Surely, he’s well educated in any ‘special effects’ used in such mimicry.”

“He’s devoted his career to it.” Jan met his level gaze with her own even study. “That doesn’t make it any easier to believe.”

“Bo’s telling the truth.” Robin’s voice was barely more than a whisper. He turned to look at Jan, gone pale, nearly gray. “It’s all on the camera. They walked in out of nothing. The boyfriend made something disappear off their heads. There were sparks.”

Frowning, Bo’s aunt pulled out her phone. Everil could only assume it would allow her to see the same arrival that Robin had witnessed. For his part, Bo rested heavily against Everil. The man had been through too much in these past few days to face this as well.

“He is, indeed, being truthful.” Everil kept the growl from his voice, but he met Robin’s accusing gaze without flinching. “He’s also–forgive me, Bo–exhausted.”

Robin seemed to take the implicit rebuke in stride or simply didn’t notice it. He studied Talia, who smiled back at him.

“You’re the all-powerful being in a hoodie?” Robin asked Talia, a wavering thread of anxiety still in his voice.

“Not all-powerful,” Talia said, still smiling. “At least, not until Bo teaches me how to drive. You can’t be all-powerful if you can’t drive.”

Robin relaxed a little, faced with Talia’s delightful immodesty. He even smiled back at her. “Make sure you learn donuts. I taught him those.” But he wasn’t smiling when he looked at Everil. “And you’re the kelpie?”

“My badass kelpie,” Bo murmured, the words so soft that Everil doubted that even Talia had heard them. For him alone, and Everil leaned to kiss his hair.

“I am, yes.” Still calm. At times such as this, he was grateful for the habit. “Bo came to my aid at a time when I was in desperate need. He has remained since, despite my best attempts to dissuade him.”

“Translation: Bo helped Everil and me avoid his stupid ex-bond, and after they finished glaring at each other, they got all cuddly.” Talia gestured toward them. “Like that.”

With a sigh and a slight, indulgent smile, Everil kept his attention on Robin and Jan. “That’s a not inaccurate summation. We didn’t intend to cause you distress. Phones don’t function properly in Faerie, and we were … detained. But that matter is resolved, and you needn’t fear for Bo’s future safety.”

“Avoiding ex-bonds and future safety,” Jan said, her attention still on her phone. “What fun and exciting wording.”

“She’s where I get it from,” Bo muttered. His hand rested on Everil’s wrist, the path of his thumb leaving trails of sunlight. “It’s all true. But it’s a messy fucking story, and I’m exhausted, and I still need to let people know I’m not dead.”

“Now that you’re done being detained ,” Robin added.

“Yes, thank you, Robin. Now that we’re not detained,” Bo snapped back. The heated words were accompanied by an immediate wince. “Sorry. Look. How about we explain some more, I do a LiveReel to keep people from freaking more–”

“Which they are, since you were in a magic world where phones don’t work with your kelpie and your nearly all-powerful Talia.”

“Thank you , Robin. And then I need a damn nap. A long nap. Possibly a full day. Sound like a plan?”

“I’m amenable, provided we sit,” Everil murmured in answer. “You shouldn’t be standing.”

“I’m not the one who had the fucking holes in his legs,” Bo answered, then winced again, apparently remembering their audience.

“Holes.” Jan’s voice was flat.

“It’s resolved,” Everil answered. “The holes and their cause both. All of which we’ll explain, once your nephew is comfortable.”

“Yeah. Alright. Yes.” Bo’s crooked smile was in full evidence, and Everil basked in it despite the circumstance. “Everyone get comfy, and let’s do this.”

Had the conversation gone well? Everil lacked a method by which to measure it. Bo’s family had calmed, eventually. Or, at least, reached a level of semi-acceptance. The subject would doubtless be picked up again.

But not until Bo had rested. Which, with any luck, was what the man was doing. For his part, Everil had retreated to the back porch, lest he appear to be shadowing his bond. Here, it was mostly quiet, and there was less risk of disturbing Bo’s family further .

The plants were a pleasant distraction. All of them new, different from the species he’d nurtured at Brookhaven. He ran his fingers lightly over waxy leaves and delicate petals, encouraging one sickly plant he didn’t recognize to grow and eradicating an incipient fungus in another.

The sound of the door, and Everil turned to see Robin stepping out onto the porch.

“You free to talk?” the man asked. “Nothing bad.”

“Of course,” he answered. Wrist gripped behind his back and posture perfect. “My apologies. It wasn’t my intention to appear unavailable. I simply didn’t wish to intrude.”

“You didn’t,” Robin shook his head, leaning back against the door frame. He looked as uncomfortable as Everil felt. “I don’t think any of us would blame you if you wanted to be unavailable, truth be told. A lot happened.”

“It did,” Everil agreed.

“I’m a wreck of a person, but I’m not going to bite you.” His smile was a sharper, more abrupt version of Bo’s slow, crooked grin. “No kelpie shade intended. The biting thing. I just wanted to talk about Bo. Which sounds bad. Ominous. It’s not. I’m not going to threaten you with a tire iron if you two fight.”

The man seemed to be attempting to put Everil at ease. Which was very kind, if somewhat fruitless. Especially as he appeared to believe that Everil might find him a physical threat, while Everil worried only over how he might misstep, causing further difficulties for Bo.

“I’m not opposed to your making threats on Bo’s behalf,” Everil spoke carefully, weighing his words. “I’ve made a number myself. Though I fear I didn’t omit the possibility of biting.”

“Something to be said for specifying a weapon.” Robin laughed, short and edged.

“Indeed.”

“No, I just … you like him, right? Soulbond, obviously smitten with the kissing and the hugging and threatening people with devouring, yeah, that, but…” Robin trailed off, apparently at a loss for words.

“I’m sincerely in love with your brother,” Everil offered in hopes of reassuring him.

Robin shook his head, the gesture as sharp as the rest of him. Apparently, not what he wanted to hear.

“Bo, he’s– He’s kind of an asshole, you know? Prickly. A little pushy. Stubborn, like wet toilet paper on a shoe, but in a loving way. And you don’t need to like a person to love them. I want to hear it from you that you do. Like him, I mean. Pissy cat tendencies and all.”

“Deja vu,” Everil murmured. How odd they must look. Robin struggling not to jitter in place, Everil almost entirely still. “Your brother is brash, ill-mannered, and distressingly reckless. All traits that led me to grow incredibly fond of him before our relationship deepened. I promise you that I like Bo. Because of those mannerisms you list, not in spite of them.”

“Good. They’re why I like him too. Wait until you see him with fans. It’s a trip.” Robin pushed off the doorframe, his fingers idly tapping at his leg. “This is the part where I would tell you that if you do wrong by him, there’d be a tire iron. But we got that out of the way. Bo’s more capable of taking care of himself than I am, anyway.”

Silence, but for the night insects and the cars on the nearby road. Everil waited, not wishing to interrupt when Robin was so clearly considering what else to say.

“Welcome to the family, I guess.”

He would have been more comfortable with a threat than a welcome. But, like his brother, Robin was kind. And Everil, awkward and unsure of the Protocol, would have to muddle through, attempting not to offend.

“My thanks. Bo values you and your aunt above all else.” Everil managed a little haltingly. Robin didn’t, yet, look offended. “I fear I’m out of practice with ‘family.’ But what Bo values, I value.” He allowed his glamour to slip, just barely. The moon in his eyes. The scent of running water. A stallion’s shadow. “My oath on it. I intend to do my best by you all.”

Robin stared at him, and Everil allowed it, neither of them speaking. Again. It seemed theirs was to be a game of silences.

“Bo know you do that?” Robin asked at last.

“Yes.”

“Course he does. Fuck.” Robin shook his head, that sharp smile back on his lips. “I’m going inside.”

“My thanks for the conversation.”

Everil watched the man go, unsure of whether he’d made a good impression or a poor one. Well, it was done. Perhaps it wouldn’t be seen as inappropriate if he sought out Bo, now. He, too, could use the rest. And more than that, the comfort of his bond’s nearness.