They picked up their glasses and sat down at a table as far away from the counter as they could.
Taryn took a sip of her drink and shivered. “I don’t usually drink straight spirits.”
Verden gave it a sniff. The smell seemed to burn his nose. “This is safe?”
“I’m still here.”
“I mean, he didn’t slip some iron filing in to kill us?”
Her eyes widened in horror. “He wouldn’t.” She cleared her throat. “How would I tell?”
“You’d be on the floor howling in pain by now.”
She kicked him under the table. “You let me drink it.”
“Ow. You didn’t give me a chance.” He took a taste—not even a sip from his glass, just enough to wet his tongue. The ice clunked and liquid burned with a taste that was sharp and smooth and a little sweet. He took a proper drink and fire burned down his throat and hit his stomach. He drew in a breath as the scent went up his nose.
Taryn grinned at him as she took another drink. “You like?”
“Not particularly.”
“No one does at first, but if you keep going it tastes better—or you just forget that it tastes awful because you no longer care.”
Already he could feel the tension fading as the whiskey got into his blood and warmed him. He lifted his glass and tapped it against hers. “To being human.”
“To being human,” she echoed, and they both drank. “So why wouldn’t he take my ring?” She waggled her fingers over the table.
“Because things that are made in Annwyn often lose their luster here.”
“Like banished fairies.”
“Exactly.” Had forming words always been this hard? He took another drink and drained the glass. She was right; this stuff did get better. “He might have woken up to find a lump of coal instead of a ruby.”
She swirled the ice around her glass and watched it as if it were fascinating. “Pretty fakes. Kind of sums up the place.”
“Don’t judge everyone in Annwyn by what you see at Court.” He placed his hand over hers. “There are plenty who are doing what’s right and what’s best for both worlds but they are constrained.”
“Why not change the rules if they no longer work?”
He frowned. He should be able to come up with a logical response, one that defended Annwyn and the way fairies behaved. The back stabbing and scheming, the elaborate games to get what they wanted, and the power hungry deals that were made over the dinner table and completed in a bedroom. He had nothing. “You can’t just change a society that has existed for thousands of years.”
“But it has changed over the years, from wild fae to colonizing Annwyn, from being worshipped as gods to being almost forgotten. Surely there is another evolution. Nothing stands still forever.”
“Felan will have a chance to make changes.” Verden leaned back against the seat, as his bones seemed to give up and turn soft. His blood was warm and his mind fuzzy. He felt it, knew it was the alcohol and knew this was why no one in Annwyn drank anything alcoholic. Dropping one’s guard there could be fatal. Here it felt good. He gazed at Taryn, aware he was smiling more than he should. “It’ll also depend on his wife.” He shook his head as if that would help clear it. “Politics makes my head hurt.”
“Have another drink.” She picked up her second glass.
He watched as her lips curved against the rim. He wanted to run his tongue over her lip and taste the whiskey from her mouth. The rapid beat of the music filled his blood and drowned out thoughts. He needed to feel her skin against his, her body around his. His body responded, hardening even though his muscles were lax, and she grinned as if she knew what he was thinking.
“You want to finish these drinks and get out of here?”
“What would a mortal do?”
“Wait for the band to start, have a few more drinks, call a cab, and crash into bed.”
He didn’t catch half of that. The way her lips moved when she spoke was far too distracting. “Hmm?”
“You are a cheap date. You’re drunk already.”
Ah, so this was what she’d been talking about. He closed his eyes. He was pretty sure that if the King walked in right now and saw him with Taryn, Verden wouldn’t actually care. He’d tell him to pull up a seat and have some whiskey until it all went away. For a moment he could see himself living here, far away from Court. Free.
“What do you think would happen if we never went back?” Here they wouldn’t have to worry about the squabbles of royalty.
“We’d die in the power shift. We’ll go back, and it will be like we never left.” Her voice was soft.
Like they’d never left. He didn’t want to go back to that. It was eating him like poison, killing him like iron. What he wanted wasn’t possible. He’d heard that before though; when he’d left the farm, his parents had told it was a waste of time and that the Court would never accept him. He’d proved them wrong. He’d prove the Court wrong too and have Taryn—he just didn’t know how yet.
“We won’t be the same.” He finished his second glass and was sure it hit him harder than the first. The room took a moment to steady. “Do you do this often?”
“A few times, and I always left with someone.” She gave him a wink. “Do you want me to take advantage of you?”
In Annwyn the answer would’ve been no. But he wasn’t in Annwyn and she wasn’t talking about some gamble or game. He had no idea what she was saying. “Take advantage of me how?”
Her fingers laced with his as she stood up. “Oh, I think you’ll like it.”
He got up, almost stumbled, then laughed. The fuzziness in his head didn’t clear but he didn’t care. All the things that were supposed to matter disappeared when he looked at Taryn.
“You’re not drunk.”
“I’m merry, but I’ve had alcohol before. You haven’t.”
“Can you imagine if the whole Court was drunk?”
“I have, and I’ve been so tempted to spike the wine just to see them falling over and making bad deals.”
He would make very bad deals at the moment. He couldn’t think ahead more than his next few steps, let alone the planning needed to…what was he thinking? He gave up. It was too complicated. Here everything was simple.
The warm night air enveloped him. He could smell the magic of midsummer brewing, gathering in the dusk. “Do you feel it?”
He turned and clasped both her hands, then spun her in a circle. The streetlights shone brighter; everything was sharper.
“Feel what?”
“You can taste it.” He ran his tongue over his lip. It was sweet like summer berries. Then he kissed her, to see if he could taste the magic of midsummer on her lips. The heat of her mouth on his, the lingering scent of whiskey on her breath, and the pounding of his blood in his ears. He was alive for the first time in too long and he could feel it, feel the world within him—but all he wanted was Taryn to be there with him.
Her tongue flicked over his lips and dipped into his mouth. Her body was pressed against his. She moaned once then drew back.
“Maybe you should have just had one glass of whiskey.” She tugged him off the road and led him down the street.
Verden stopped. “Stay still a moment and feel it, listen to the earth. You can feel the energy changing, as the earth prepares to winter.” It was there, a humming that vibrated through him. Like the magic of the jungle only bigger, older, and more powerful. All fairies had once been connected to that power. Now only the wild fae were.
“Yeah…you do know that in the southern hemisphere it’s winter now.”
“Coming up to midwinter.” He could tell from the look on her face she couldn’t feel it. Maybe it was the alcohol flooding his blue blood. “The endless cycle.”