“That’s terrible.” Before I can think, I reach out and take Ezryn’s hands. He stiffens for a moment, then relaxes. His hands are huge, the gloves thick and finely crafted. “I can only imagine how scary it is to suddenly have a bunch of magic powers you’re not sure what to do with. Was your mother able to help you?”
A moment of silence passes between us. His voice echoes softly, “My mother passed shortly after I inherited the throne.”
There goes foot-in-her-mouth Rosalina again. “I’m so sorry, Ezryn.” My chest beats hard against my breast, and slowly, I reach for the edge of the glove. Pull it off. He doesn’t stop me. I place the glove on my lap and hold his bare hand. Snowflakes fall upon his tanned skin, and I trace a finger along his calloused palm and fingertips. “But your magic is good. I know it is. Like how you healed me when I first came to the castle. Or how you used it to calm Farron down. Your magic is good, Ezryn. And so are you.”
Ezryn releases a breath, a warm, tinny sound from beneath his helmet. He moves swiftly, twisting his hand now to clutch mine. “How I wish you were right.”
The air feels full between us, and I can tell he’s staring down at where our skin touches. My heart pounds, and I feel a nervous twist in my belly. It’s so simple, just my hand in his, and yet it feels like I’m naked and laid bare. Maybe it’s because this small glimpse of his skin is so rare, so vulnerable.
“Ezryn,” I whisper. “How come you can’t show your face to anyone?”
“It is the way of the Spring Realm. Every member of the royal family shields their face. It is an ancient tradition. The act of remaining faceless shows our dedication to our people. We are servants to the realm above all else, warriors of the earth. If a member of the royal family were to reveal their face…” His voice pitches lower. “It is the greatest dishonor one could ever imagine, punishable by banishment from the Spring Realm forever.”
“Wow,” I whisper. “That’s… intense. So no one has ever seen your face?”
“The old laws state that one’s face may be shared among blood, but my family is very strict. Once I reached five years, I donned my helm and have not been without it since.”
My eyes bug out and I shoot toward him, hands on his knees. “Wait! Do youevertake it off? Like doyoueven know what you look like?”
He chuckles. “Yes, I can remove it when I am alone. I do eat and bathe, you know.”
“Oh, yeah.” I laugh.
“And,” he looks up at the sky, “I will remove it in the presence of my mate.”
I lose myself in the way the snowflakes dance over the shine of his armor, across his visor. I wonder what they would look like on his eyelashes. “That’s kind of romantic.”
He huffs. Slowly, almost as if he doesn’t want to, he reaches for his glove and puts it back on. “I think you’ve been out in the cold long enough. Shall we go back to the party?”
I look toward the castle doors. Perth’s voice rings in my head:Human. Maggot. Whore.“Everyone’s going to be looking at me. Judging how ridiculous it is for a human to be here. Thinking I’m some hideous monster.”
Ezryn stands and reaches his hand down. “You are the Lady of Castletree now. We monsters have to stick together.”
He’d called me that to Perth.The Lady of Castletree.Tears prick my eyes again and I take in a shaky breath.
Ezryn stumbles back. “You’re crying…”
“No, no, this time I’m happy,” I say quickly. “I’ve never belonged anywhere before.”
I’m getting used to it: the stillness of his body as he intakes information, and then the quick movement after. Ezryn holds out his arm for me to take. It’s kind of hilarious, this huge, armored body doing such a gentlemanly gesture. I can’t help my smile as I take his arm.
We walk back to the ballroom. A lighthearted waltz has arisen, and I laugh as I see Dayton swept up in a dance with a burly fae man, and Farron has a trail of elderly fae women following him. Keldarion, on the other hand, sits on his throne, head in his hand.
“No one sulks quite like Kel,” Ezryn whispers.
I giggle before a thought hits me.You’re a distraction.“I should let you go.”
“Ridiculous human,” he mumbles and pulls me onto the dance floor, sweeping me into his arms.
Warmth flows through my body despite his cold armor. This dance is faster paced, and he twirls me around until the room spins.
“Ez!” I cry, laughing, and collapse against his chest. It’s like an electric shock passes between us as we touch, and I gasp. I can hear his breathing despite the music and din of the crowd.
He tilts his helm down at me.
“Ezryn,” I whisper, “what color are your eyes?”
“Brown,” he whispers. “My eyes are brown.”