He plucked a strand of grass from my hair. Heat radiated from my face as his fingers grazed my cheek. “I could make you able to see it,” he said. His fingers lingered at the end of my braid, twirling the curl of hair around. “See my world—hear it, smell it.” My breathing became shallow as he sat up. “Taste it.” His eyes flicked to the fading bruise on my neck.
“How?” I asked, heat blooming as he crouched before me.
“Every gift comes with a price.” I frowned, and he grinned. “A kiss.”
“Absolutely not!” But my blood raced, and I had to clench my hands in the grass to keep from touching him. “Don’t you think it puts me at a disadvantage to not be able to see all this?”
“I’m one of the High Fae—we don’t give anything without gaining something from it.”
To my own surprise, I said, “Fine.”
He blinked, probably expecting me to have fought a little harder. I hid my smile and sat up so that I faced him, our knees touching as we knelt in the grass. I licked my lips, my heart fluttering so quickly it felt as if I had a hummingbird inside my chest.
“Close your eyes,” he said, and I obeyed, my fingers grappling onto the grass. The birds chattered, and the willow branches sighed. The grass crunched as Tamlin rose up on his knees. I braced myself at the brush of his mouth on one of my eyelids, then on the other. He pulled away, and I was left breathless, the kisses still lingering on my skin.
The singing of birds became an orchestra—a symphony of gossip and mirth. I’d never heard so many layers of music, never heard the variations and themes that wove between their arpeggios. And beyond the birdsong, there was an ethereal melody—a woman, melancholy and weary … the willow. Gasping, I opened my eyes.
The world had become richer, clearer. The brook was a near-invisible rainbow of water that flowed over stones as invitingly smooth as silk. The trees were clothed in a faint shimmer that radiated from their centers and danced along the edges of their leaves. There was no tangy metallic stench—no, the smell of magic had become like jasmine, like lilac, like roses. I would never be able to paint it, the richness, the feel … Maybe fractions of it, but not the whole thing.
Magic—everything was magic, and it broke my heart.
I looked to Tamlin, and my heart cracked entirely.
It was Tamlin, but not. Rather, it was the Tamlin I’d dreamed of. His skin gleamed with a golden sheen, and around his head glowed a circlet of sunshine. And his eyes—
Not merely green and gold, but every hue and variation that could be imagined, as though every leaf in the forest had bled into one shade. This was a High Lord of Prythian—devastatingly handsome, captivating, powerful beyond belief.
My breath caught in my throat as I touched the contours of his mask. The cool metal bit into my fingertips, and the emeralds slipped against my callused skin. I lifted my other hand and gently grasped either side of the mask. I pulled lightly.
It wouldn’t move.
He began smiling as I pulled again, and I blinked, dropping my hands. Instantly, the golden, glowing Tamlin vanished, and the one I knew returned. I could still hear the singing of the willow and the birds, but …
“Why can’t I see you anymore?”
“Because I willed my glamour back into place.”
“Glamour for what?”
“To look normal. Or as normal as I can look with this damned thing,” he added, gesturing to the mask. “Being a High Lord, even one with … limited powers, comes with physical markers, too. It’s why I couldn’t hide what I was becoming from my brothers—from anyone. It’s still easier to blend in.”
“But the mask truly can’t come off—I mean, are you sure there’s no one who knows how to fix what the magic did that night? Even someone in another court?” I don’t know why the mask bothered me so greatly. I didn’t need to see his entire face to know him.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
“I just … just want to know what you look like.” I wondered when I’d grown so shallow.
“What do you think I look like?”
I tilted my head to the side. “A strong, straight nose,” I said, drawing from what I’d once tried to paint. “High cheekbones that bring out your eyes. Slightly … slightly arched brows,” I finished, blushing. He was grinning so broadly that I could almost see all of his teeth—those fangs nowhere in sight. I tried to think up an excuse for my forwardness, but a yawn crept from me as a sudden weight pressed on my eyes.
“What about your part of the bargain?”
“What?”
He leaned closer, his smile turning wicked. “What about my kiss?”
I grabbed his fingers. “Here,” I said, and slammed my mouth against the back of his hand. “There’s your kiss.”
Tamlin roared with laughter, but the world blurred, lulling me to sleep. The willow beckoned me to lie down, and I obliged. From far off, I heard Tamlin curse. “Feyre?”
Sleep. I wanted sleep. And there was no better place to sleep than right here, listening to the willow and the birds and the brook. I curled on my side, using my arm for a pillow.
“I should bring you home,” he murmured, but he didn’t move to drag me to my feet. Instead, I felt a slight thud in the earth, and the spring rain and new grass scent of him cloyed in my nose as he lay beside me. I tingled with pleasure as he stroked my hair.
This was such a lovely dream. I’d never slept so wonderfully before. So warm, nestled beside him. Calm. Faintly, echoing into my world of slumber, he spoke again, his breath caressing my ear. “You’re exactly as I dreamed you’d be, too.” Darkness swallowed everything.
Chapter 24
It wasn’t the dawn that awoke me, but rather a buzzing noise. I groaned as I sat up in bed and squinted at the squat woman with skin made from tree bark who fussed with my breakfast dishes.
“Where’s Alis?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Tamlin must have carried me up here—must have carried me the whole way home.
“What?” She turned toward me. Her bird mask was familiar. But I would have remembered a faerie with skin like that. Would have painted it already.
“Is Alis unwell?” I said, sliding from the bed. This was my room, wasn’t it? A quick glance told me yes.
“Are you out of your right mind?” the faerie said. I bit my lip. “I am Alis,” she clucked, and with a shake of her head, she strode into the bathing room to start my bath.
It was impossible. The Alis I knew was fair and plump and looked like a High Fae.
I rubbed my eyes with my thumb and forefinger. A glamour—that’s what Tamlin had said he wore. His faerie sight had stripped away the glamours I’d been seeing. But why bother to glamour everything?
Because I’d been a cowering human, that’s why. Because Tamlin knew I would have locked myself in this room and never come out if I’d seen them all for their true selves.
Things only got worse when I made my way downstairs to find the High Lord. The hallways were bustling with masked faeries I’d never seen before. Some were tall and humanoid—High Fae like Tamlin—others were … not. Faeries. I tried to avoid looking at those ones, as they seemed the most surprised to notice my attention.
I was almost shaking by the time I reached the dining room. Lucien, mercifully, appeared like Lucien. I didn’t ask whether that was because Tamlin had informed him to put up a better glamour or because he didn’t bother trying to be something he wasn’t.
Tamlin lounged in his usual chair but straightened as I lingered in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”
“There are … a lot of people—faeries—around. When did they arrive?”
I’d almost yelped when I looked out my bedroom window and spotted all the faeries in the garden. Many of them—all with insect masks—pruned the hedges and tended the flowers. Those faeries had been the strangest of all, with their iridescent, buzzing wings sprouting from their backs. And, of course, then there was the green-and-brown skin, and their unnaturally long limbs, and—
Tamlin bit his lip as if to keep from smiling. “They’ve been here all along.”
“But … but I didn’t hear anything.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Lucien drawled, and twirled one of his daggers between his hands. “We made sure you couldn’t see or hear anyone but those who were necessary.”
I adjusted the lapels of my tunic. “So you mean that … that when I ran after the puca that night—”