The Fae Keeper by H.E. Edgmon

Author:H.E. Edgmon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Inkyard Press
Published: 2022-03-10T18:35:18+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOUR OTHER HALF?

We leave Zai in the triad’s care, and Lorena promises firmly that she will commit a triple homicide if anything starts looking fucky. I believe her.

I do hope they’re going to be okay, though, the three of them. Like, their relationship. Not that I should be taking it upon myself to care about anyone else’s love life, especially not right now. But I really don’t want all of this (imagine vague hand gesturing) to break up their family.

“Sooo...what are our plans for the rest of the day?” I ask, my elbow brushing Emyr’s as we meander up toward the palace together. I can still feel people’s eyes on me. I should have asked Roman for a black hoodie—I have no doubt he owns like, twelve.

“Well, my plans,” Emyr glances down at me, a mixture of fondness and complete and utter disdain speckled across his face. It’s not one I’m unfamiliar with. “Include a video call with Paloma and Maritza.”

“Oh!” The queens of Eirgard were surprisingly easy to get along with, the last time I saw them. Now that I have the kings of Monalai to compare them to, I like them even more. “To pitch them the tech magic?”

“That was supposed to be the point, yes. And I thought they’d be an easy sell, considering.” Eirgard is one of the more progressive of the fae kingdoms. Emyr shakes his head and motions over his shoulder with a flick of his wrist. “Now? I don’t know what to say to them.”

Right. Our whole pitch so far has been about getting the fae to stop overusing their magic in order to save the planet, and to let witches step up to help by building technology the way Jin has. But after meeting with the changelings, and now Zai confirming everything they already told us and more, it seems like the real conversation here should be about...that.

But how do we get into that without telling them where we learned it?

Roman was right to mock me for keeping secrets. They’re sure as shit not doing me any good. At some point, I’m gonna have to open my big stupid mouth and start talking.

“Your plans,” Emyr continues. “Are to figure out what to do with our new little friend back there.”

“Oh. Right. I can do that.”

“Let’s hope so.” He’s chiding me, but then he reaches over and curls his hand around mine, knitting our fingers together and squeezing, and I don’t mind so much.

I tilt my head up to look at him, sunlight bouncing along the edges of his golden energy, one too-long curl falling down across his eyebrow. He meets my stare and smiles, kinda sad, really tired, but still a smile.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he says, quietly.

And really, I don’t want to talk about last night. I don’t want to talk about anything real, or serious, or big, or important. I want to keep holding his hand. I want to take a walk

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