Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(95)

“He would change everything,” Elva whispered. “He didn’t see the lesser Fae as creatures made to work. He saw them as people, valued them as soldiers and friends. That is not the Seelie way.”

“Is change such a bad thing?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Sorcha’s heart broke for this shell of a woman. Her feet carried her to the other woman’s side. With as much gentleness as she could muster, Sorcha tucked her back underneath the covers.

“Try to sleep,” she murmured.

“Will it help?”

“I don’t know if anything will help. But I find that a good night’s rest and quiet dreams always seem to ease the soul.”

“My dreams are all nightmares.” Elva turned onto her side, away from Sorcha’s kind hands. “But at least I know that nightmares aren’t happening, no matter how tragic they are to experience.”

Sorcha stayed until Elva’s breathing slowed into the steady rhythm of sleep.

What had this woman endured? What had they all endured?

She stood slowly, taking care to not shake the bed. They all had such tragic stories, such heartbreaking lives where hardships did not end.

Humans struggled throughout their entire existence. Poverty, death, illness, were all things that humans understood came with their humanity. Sorcha had never thought that faeries would also struggle. They were spirits of nature, surely they would live better lives?

She had been wrong.

“You got her to sleep?” The king’s voice was quiet as he entered. “I don’t remember the last time she laid herself down without a fight.”

“She needed comfort.”

“And you think I’m incapable of providing that,” he murmured as he sat on the edge of her bed.

“It is not my place to judge, Your Majesty.” But they both heard the hidden words beneath her quiet tones. Yes, she blamed him. She blamed him for a lot more than just Elva’s unhappiness.

He stared down at the beautiful faerie he called concubine. There was something about his expression that made Sorcha feel as though she were intruding. He didn’t glare, or grasp at her flesh. He simply stared at her with a soft expression and followed the line of her cheek with his gaze.

“I love her,” he said. “I love her so much it hurts to breathe. But that is one of the hardest things about being king. If I marry her, I put her in harm’s way. If I leave her as concubine, she stays safe, but she hates me.”

Sorcha’s tongue got ahead of her mind, words slipping from between her lips without permission. “I don’t think it is the title that offends her.”

“No,” he chuckled. “No, it’s everything. I am not my brother. I do not see the lesser Fae as creatures capable of having positions of power. I do not believe giving them free will benefits our people. The old ways have worked for a very long time. Changing things leads to unanticipated endings, and I will not risk the future of our people on the dreams of others.”

“I asked her if change was a bad thing, and she said she didn’t know. Now I ask you the same, King of the Seelie Fae. Do you believe change is bad?”

He looked at her with a troubled expression wrinkling his brow. “The Fae are unused to change. Perhaps you would be better suited to answer such a question.”

“I think controlling the future with an iron grasp only limits the possibilities of tolerance and positive change.”

“You are far too wise to be human.”

“I am not Fae,” she said.

“You are something else entirely.” He looked back down at Elva, fingering the edge of her blanket before standing. “I owe you a boon.”

“A boon? From the King of the Seelie? That does not seem a wise choice to offer.”

“And yet I offer it freely. Easing her troubled soul is worth more than just a boon, but I do not believe you will use such a gift in a way I will agree with.”

He held out his hand for her to take. Sorcha raised a brow and hesitantly grasped his hand in hers.

She wanted to trust him if only because he looked like Eamonn. His palm was smooth against her calloused fingers. No crystals bit into her skin. No scars abraded the sensitive flesh of her wrist. He was perfect. Everything Stone was not.

Sorcha shivered. “Then I accept your boon with the understanding that I do not agree with your choices, King.”

“You are not the first to disagree with me and you will not be the last. Know that I am grateful for your assistance, and will not forget it.”

“I hope someday that is useful.” She pulled away from him and scooped up her cloak.

“As do I, little midwife,” he said. “For I fear you and I will face each other on different sides of a battlefield someday.”

Sorcha glanced over her shoulder, hand on the door to her freedom. “Have you consulted with anyone to see your future?”

“I know my future without having to ask any of the Unseelie their opinions. Both of my endings result in killing myself. Either this flesh, or that of my mirror.”

Something inside her clicked like a key turning in a lock.

He knew.

He knew she lived with Stone. He knew where she came from, and still he ordered her here.

And now he was letting her go.

“Why?” she whispered.