Betrothed: A Faery Tale by Therese Woodson

Author:Therese Woodson [Woodson, Therese]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance
ISBN: 978-1-63476-516-9
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2015-09-22T16:00:00+00:00

PUCK COLLAPSED on the couch in the living room, wrung out and exhausted. He wanted to sleep, but he hadn’t grabbed a pillow. He didn’t think he deserved one. Horrible people didn’t get pillows. Neither did horrible faeries.

The lamp on the table filled the room with a warm, muted glow, the sofa was soft beneath him, and the house smelled like coffee and pizza and home. Despite the familiar comforts, Puck felt hollow, as if someone had scooped out his insides and left a shell behind. A stupid, spoiled, terrible pix of a shell.

He felt awful. He had no friends to talk to, no clue what he was doing, and no desire to follow through on his original plan—his stupid, shitty plan.

Sky wanted to go home. He wanted to give up. Puck should be ecstatic. It was what he had worked toward since Sky showed up on his doorstep, and it had only taken four days. But hearing it felt more like a failure than a triumph. Yet another disappointment to carry, and it hurt. It hurt more than the insults from the court, more than his grandmother’s consternation, more than the jabs at his character from the noble families.

Puck dropped his head into his hands and scrubbed his face. He willed himself not to give in to the hot, stinging tears welling behind his eyes. He didn’t deserve a pity party, because he was the bad person in all this. He was the twignit who had driven two friends to act completely out of character that night.

He heard footsteps on the stairs, and he shrank back into the corner of the couch, not wanting to have another confrontation with Sky. Once was enough for the evening, thank you very much. But it wasn’t Sky coming down the stairs, and Puck didn’t know if talking with his dad was going to be any better.

“Puck? You down here, Son?”

“Yeah, Dad,” Puck said. His voice sounded wobbly to his own ears.

His dad finished his descent and walked into the living room. He wore his ugly plaid pajamas under a ratty blue robe, and his hair stood on end.

Puck winced. “Did we wake you?”

“Yeah,” his dad said, lowering into his armchair. “But it’s okay. I never sleep well when you’re out anyway.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s a father’s duty to worry.” He smiled, but Puck couldn’t return it. “So where’s Sky?”

Puck sighed. “Asleep. He’s drunk.”

His dad’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Drunk? Is he all right?”

“Yeah. He’s fine. I put him to bed. He’ll probably be hungover tomorrow, but you know, it happens.”

“Yeah, we’ve all been there.”

Puck nodded and fidgeted on the couch.

“How about you?” his dad continued. “Are you all right?”

Puck’s knee juddered as he chewed on a fingernail. “Yeah, Dad. I’m fine,” he said, but then he shook his head. The hollowed part of him throbbed, and he didn’t want to add lying to his dad to the long list of his transgressions. “Actually, Dad,” he started, and his eyes welled, “I’m not okay.

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