Was it really just about conserving his power? What if the Rat King’s healer hadn’t been able to fully restore him? Maybe that was why Laurie had been so insistent on hiding here, instead of going home—he was weak right now.
He’d certainly succeeded in not looking weak, though. Laurie sauntered past me and started down the passageway, saying over his shoulder, “Good night, Fortuna.”
“Good night, Laurie,” I said to his retreating back. I leaned my head against the doorjamb and watched him go. Of its own volition, my gaze dropped down, taking note of the muscled curve to his ass, which was enunciated perfectly by the pants he wore, of course.
“What’s the secret?” I called after Laurie impulsively, knowing as I did that I was just looking for a reason, any reason at all, to keep him in this passageway a little longer. Even though I’d been the one to kick him out in the first place.
The faerie turned with his hands in his pockets, creating an elegant silhouette, as if every moment was a camera and the world was Laurelis Dondarte’s audience. “Secret?” he repeated.
“I’ve been meaning to ask for a while, but something always seems to come up. How is it that you, and Collith, and so many others I’ve met lately can see my real face?”
Laurie hesitated. As the quiet stretched into a thick heat that wrapped around us, despite the chill that always clung to the air underground, I realized that I was genuinely invested in his response—Laurie and Collith’s ability to see past the Nightmare illusion had never been explained, not really. And the fact that he still hadn’t answered made it even more intriguing.
Probably seeing how my interest had sharpened, the corners of Laurie’s mouth tilted into a small, soft smile. The way his gaze lingered on my face felt equivalent to someone running a fingertip over my skin or exhaling along the sensitive curve of my throat, and suddenly it was difficult to remember what I’d asked him in the first place.
This time, I didn’t turn away.
When Laurie finally spoke, I discovered that the smile had tucked itself inside his voice, too. “We can see your face, my queen, because there are some people in the world who perceive authenticity as true beauty,” he said.
It was the purest thing I’d ever heard anyone say, and the fact it came from the mouth of a faerie wasn’t lost on me. Nor that the faerie was Laurie, of all people. He kept staring down at me, and I faintly wondered when he’d stopped smiling. There was a torch burning directly to the right of us, and it danced across his eyes, making it possible to see a dim outline of my face in them. It was a face I’d seen a thousand times, more, but in Laurie’s eyes I saw someone else.
“I look like my mother,” I told him, surprising myself.
Laurie moved closer. “What was her name?”
For the first time, I remembered Mom without thinking of how she’d died. “Christine. Her name was Christine.”
“Beautiful.”
“Yeah. It is.” I tipped my head back to look at Laurie more fully, and I finally returned his smile. It felt like my heart was a door without a knob, and for all the time I’d known Laurie, he had been skimming his fingertips along its edges in search of a latch or a key. And now, at this moment, it had simply cracked open for him.
My mouth went dry with panic, the same reaction I’d battled every time Collith tried to get through that door, too. Once again, I wanted to retreat or say something to put us firmly back in familiar territory.
But I was a Nightmare. I knew what giving in to fear did to people. They lived ordinary lives, and they missed out on the amazing and the remarkable. What was the point of a life like that?
I raised my gaze back to Laurie’s and forced myself to add, “Sometimes I avoid mirrors, because I see Mom in my reflection and I wonder… would she be ashamed of me? If she were here now?”
Toward the end, a note of torment slipped into my voice. It was a thought I’d been avoiding for a long time, probably since Damon was taken. It had crept closer with every stupid decision, every failure, every dark moment. I’d never told anyone this, not even Emma. Lately, whenever it got past my defenses, the thought about Mom was immediately followed by another one.
Why had I only seen Dad during my brush with death?
Before my conversation with him, I’d been certain of what came after our time in this world. The stories of Heaven and Hell were true. Or some of them, at least. But Dad had come back, somehow. If he’d been able to do it, why not Mom?
Maybe she’d chosen not to.
My mental freefall came to an abrupt halt when Laurie placed the crook of his index finger beneath my chin and gently lifted my face, sending a startled burst through me; when had I looked down? Laurie held my gaze, his focus never wavering as he said slowly, “I didn’t know your mother, but I can tell you with absolute certainty—more than I’ve ever known anything over the course of my existence—that she would not be ashamed of you, Fortuna.”
That door inside me opened wider. Clearing my throat, I pulled away slightly and brushed my fingers over my cheeks. I gave Laurie a tremulous smile. “You know, I’ve been inside your head, and I wasn’t able to find much. Don’t you have fears like that? Insecurities?”
“Wrinkles,” Laurie said, shuddering. “Thankfully, evolution took care of that for me. Immortality is nature’s Botox.”
My disappointment was undeniable now—I’d shown him my insides, and I’d been hoping for something from him. This time, he’d been the one to succumb to fear. I pasted on another smile, skilled as any fae courtier now. “Sleep well, Laurie.”
There was a flash of something in his eyes, but it was gone too quickly. In less than a moment, the Seelie Prince wore his usual expression, a combination of arrogance and mischief hidden behind an aristocratic, angelic face. “Good night, Fortuna.”
I didn’t linger to watch the darkness swallow him.
As I closed the door, I realized that I wasn’t tired anymore. The conversation with Laurie had awoken something in me, and I needed to get this energy out. I scanned my surroundings in search of something to do. There was a suit of armor in the corner of the room, complete with a sword resting upon a stand. I walked over to it and reached for the weapon.
It was lighter than I was used to—I’d been training with overly heavy swords to build up muscle. I practiced several strikes in slow motion, with exaggerated movements, just as Adam had shown me. I was about to start over again when there was yet another knock on my door. I went still, and for a moment, all I could do was stare. It felt like I was at the starting line of a race.
When I did finally open the door, I did it slowly, knowing who I would find on the other side. No, hoping that I knew.
For a beat, Laurie and I just looked at each other.
Then he stepped forward, buried his fingers in my hair, and kissed me.
The sword slipped from my fingers. Even as my senses were overcome with the taste of him, I was aware of another flavor on my tongue. Juniper, maybe, or something similar. Laurie’s fear, a distracted voice whispered in my head.
A second later, I put two and two together. This was his answer to my question. Don’t you have fears like that? Insecurities? I’d asked.
We tumbled back into the room, kissing as if it would be our last, but I knew it was only the beginning. We’d started something here, crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. Every second that I didn’t pull away, I was making a choice.