Summer Princess (Dark Fae Book 1) by Sloane Murphy

Author:Sloane Murphy [Murphy, Sloane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bright Lights Publishing
Published: 2020-02-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

It’s been a few days since Cade granted my wish and confused me more than I ever thought possible. It seems it’s still the four of us battling it out. I’m more shocked that it hasn’t got tenser. The three of them seem genuinely friendly to each other, as for me, well, I’m nice enough, but I don’t want to get too close. I don’t need any more complications than necessary. I climb out of the shower, wrapping the fluffy white towel around me and pad into the room. I catch sight of myself in the mirror, and I can’t help but stare. The bruises around my neck have faded to a sickly yellow-green, luckily the weather has turned colder, so no one has questioned my scarves. Something else seems different about me too, and I think it’s my eyes. I don’t look as angry as I have in the last few years. I think being here has changed a part of me. I’ve had the chance to get to know these people again, and I’ve started to move past my grief. The knowledge shocks me, but at the same time, it feels right to be moving past it after all of this time. While I’d still rather be back on that beach with Oberon, being here now isn’t the worst place in the world.

I lift my head at the sound of my door opening and see Rowan’s head peek in, he sees me, and a blush creeps up his cheeks, and he closes his eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean . . . I mean, hi. I came to tell you we’re having a dinner tonight. The family and the four of you. I just wanted to let you know, because obviously my father is my father, and I wanted to give you a heads up before Cybil arrives in about an hour and surprises you with it.” I pull my towel tighter and smile at him.

“Thank you. I guess I better get myself presentable.”

“You look beautiful, Emilia. You always do,” he murmurs, pulling the door closed and leaving me alone again. I sit on the bed, and Lanora’s words haunt me, “Remember which of my sons you’re here for . . .” I don’t want to overcomplicate what is already a ridiculous mess, I don’t want Rowan to get hurt, plus he’s my only real ally here. I need to stop this before it gets any more complicated.

I stand with purpose; my first hurdle is tonight’s dinner, I’ll worry about everything else after. I exchange my towels for my robe and then sit and dry my hair, carefully pulling it backwards into rolls, weaving white baby’s breath from the vase of flowers on the mantel into the back on my hair. I place my black tiara in the front of my hair and let curled strands fall down and frame my face. I paint my face with dark eyes and light lips, highlighting the strong lines of my cheekbones but softening my jaw.

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