The Last Faerie Queen (10 page)

To my surprise, Elora came up close and kissed me. Right in front of everyone, she kissed me. “Not anymore,” she said, squeezing my hands. “Let's take a walk.”

10

E
l
o
r
A

Taylor and I bid our friends adieu and traveled to the top of a hill overlooking the forest. From here, we could see where the borderlands split the terrain into green and black. In the Unseelie Court, everything grew darker: trees, insects, plants.

Faeries
.

I could only appreciate the difference now that I had left.

“Come and sit beside me,” I said, settling onto the ground.

When Taylor sat down, his hand immediately twined with mine. He must've known what I knew, that these moments had to be stolen when they could. But what happened next could determine whether we'd be able to keep stealing these moments or lose them entirely.

I took a deep breath. “Taylor, I don't want you to fight in this battle.”

“That's not your decision. I—”

“I know.”

He looked up at me. His hair was wild and his eyes were bright. Gold and green, like the forest below.

I studied those eyes as I said, “I don't like it, but I know it. All this time, I have been trying to protect you, believing it was my place. But—”

“But?”

I sighed. “Every time I hear the faeries, bright or dark, speak of mortals, it makes my skin crawl. I cannot think like them, if I am
to be with you. You were right about that.”

“I was
right
?” His face broke into a grin. “Can I get that in writing?”

“Taylor, please do not joke. Something terrible has happened.” I tried to steady my voice. “Something terrible, which will allow you to enter the Unseelie Court unchallenged.”

“What? Did hell freeze over?”

No, it has always been cold there,
I thought. Then, quickly and quietly, I recounted what had happened at the borderlands.

For a moment, Taylor was silent. Finally, he said, “You'll sneak me in through an underground tunnel?”

“Yes,” I said, squeezing his hand. “Together, we will travel up the mountain, and when we arrive at the palace, the battle will begin. My mother will never have to know—”

“And you'll let me fight?” Taylor broke in. “You won't try to stop me?”

I swallowed, trying not to see blood spattered across his chest. Trying not to see the light going out of those eyes. “I will not make that decision for you. But I think it would be best if you acted as a guard—”

“Ah, so I can go to the battle. To watch.”

“I'll station you in the surrounding trees. You'll be able to use bows and arrows, should you choose to.”

“But—”

“But nothing, sweet.” I reached up to touch his face. He turned, kissing each of my fingers slowly. “This arrangement is no slight to you. However strong you are, physical strength is no match for magic. You will need to rely on your cunning, and keep your wits about you always. If someone should come for you, your mind will be the thing to save you. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” he said. He must've understood how hard this was for me, to not do everything in my power to protect him.

But I would not keep him in a cage. “There is something else, and this is important.”

“What?”

“I saw the way you looked when you believed you'd killed Naeve with that branch. I know how much of your strength is born of morality. Of compassion. If you enter into this battle, you are agreeing to defend yourself—at least yourself—at all costs. You will see death, Taylor, and you may be the cause of it. I need you to deeply consider the consequences of this, not only to others, but to yourself. The taking of a life affects the taker in an indescribable way. It is profound and everlasting. It will always be a part of you.”

Silence. I was struck with the quietness, not only of the land below, but in the trees above. For once, it seemed we were alone.

“I understand.” Taylor's voice felt loud in this quiet space. I heard it reverberate off the edges of the world.

“You will not understand until the blood stains your hands.”

“I know, but I understand what you're saying, and it's worth it to me.”

“We have until the fifteenth. That's ten days from now.”

“That's it?” He whistled, looking out across the land. “Just ten?”

I nodded. “I would use that time to think on it.”

“All right.”

More silence, deeper this time. When he said, “So … ” I jumped a little. Another time, my wings might've rustled at my surprise.

But not now.

“So, what?” I asked. My face must've fallen, because he reached out to touch my arm. I inhaled at the feel of him, and a dull pain unfurled in my back. I told myself it was simply a result of my blood rushing faster.

“So, how did you pull it off?” he asked.

“Pull it off?” I looked to the border, confused.

“I mean, your wings. How did you get them back?”

I lowered my head. Shame pulsed through me, hot and fast. I knew it wasn't my fault that Naeve had taken my wings, knew I had made the right choice in the Bright Queen's bower. Still, there was a part of me that felt so embarrassed by the loss, the mutilation, that I couldn't imagine ever lifting the glamour from my back.

“Elora? I … oh God.”

I glanced up to see Taylor's face had fallen. I was peering into a mirror of grief and despair.

“I didn't … ” I began, swallowing. “I couldn't … ”

“Oh
God.”
He reached for my hands, but I pulled away from him. I couldn't bear to be touched in this moment.
“Why didn't you
tell
me
?” he asked.

“I didn't want you to know. I thought if I shielded you from it … ”

You wouldn't be sickened by me.

Disappointed.

Sickened.

“I'm such an idiot,” he said, shaking his head. “I let myself believe you got them back. I just assumed—”

“I understand. But magic is limited, and if I were to attempt such a thing, I would spend the time healing that I need to spend fighting.”

He touched my face, surprising me. “I would take your place in battle.”

I almost lost control then. Almost cried. Almost kissed him. So many desires flooded through me, and slipped away. “I know,” I said softly. “But none of you will. I alone must stand against Naeve.”

“Are you in pain?” he asked after a minute. That gaze was intense, and it made me want to curl into myself. Made me want to hide.

“They hurt from time to time,” I said, avoiding the entire truth. How could I admit when my wings hurt the most? I could barely admit it to myself.

“Can I look at them?” he asked, his words feeding my fears. But my heart responded, as it often did with him, and I let it take the lead for the moment.

“Yes.” I held my breath. Even as he crawled behind me, and I ripped the glamour away, I hardly breathed. I hated his curiosity. No, I hated myself. The tattered remains of me. It must've been horrible to look at me.

“Taylor?” I said after an eternal moment.

He didn't speak. Instead, he ran his fingers along the small of my back, far below where my wings had been. It hurt. With each brush of his fingertips, the pain pulsed. But I didn't stop him.

“What do you see?” I asked, suddenly aware of the darkness. It must've been so different for him. Humans weren't exactly nocturnal creatures. I unleashed a soft glow around me, mortified and vulnerable under his gaze. Still, I couldn't stop myself from letting him see me.

He inhaled sharply.

I dimmed the light, humiliated.

“No, don't,” he said. “I think I saw something.”

“What?”

“It's hard to explain. You know how new growth grows out of trees that have been cut down?”

“Yes?” I couldn't think about what his words meant. Couldn't allow myself to think.

His hands trailed around my waist. I had to grab them, to stop him.

“Taylor, it hurts.”

“It does? I'm sorry. I didn't think that would hurt—”

My breath came out in short gasps. I was terrified to tell him. But I had no choice, now. “It's not the wings. It is, but it isn't. It's you.” I twisted to look at him. “It hurts when you touch me.”

“Only?”

“No. But it hurts the worst.”

His eyes closed. My words must have crushed him. But when his eyes opened, he did not look pained. He was almost smiling. “Wait,” he said.

“What?”

“Maybe it's not what you think.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it's pretty dark here, but I could swear, when I touch you, it's like … it's almost like I can see them growing.”

I waited a beat. Two. Three.

“How certain are you?” I asked. Could it be true? Was it even
possible
? My heart rose like a wave, flooding my chest with warmth.

“Not very,” he admitted. “Like I said, it's dark. My eyes could be playing tricks on me. But—”

“Then why would you say it?” I asked, suddenly angry. My heart crashed on the rocks.

“I—”

“Why would you give me hope when you know how hard this is for me? You have no right to do this.” I jerked away from him.

“I'm sorry,” he said, following me. It was as if he couldn't help it, as if gravity drew him to me. I knew the feeling, usually. “I'm so sorry. I thought you'd want to know,” he said. “I know how important flight is to you.”

“
Was
,” I said bitterly.

“What?”

“It's over now, Taylor. You have to let it go.”

“Why should I let it go? If there's even a possibility—Hey,” he said as I crawled farther away from him. “Where are you going?”

I couldn't stay there any longer. I couldn't be close to him, couldn't have him looking at me. “Why are you doing this?” I demanded. “Why are you focusing on the one thing I cannot do, instead of all the things I can?”

“Hey—hey, listen.” He reached for me, stopping just short of my waist. “I would
never
do that. I mean, if I thought for a second that flying again was impossible for you. If I even thought
you
thought that … ” He looked at me, and his gaze pierced into the deepest parts of me. Past my anger, my hurt. Down into my hope. “But you don't think that, do you? You still believe there's a chance, I can see it. I can
feel
it. Tell me I'm wrong.”

He waited. But I couldn't answer.

“Listen to me.” He put his hand on my leg, so lightly. I thought, for an instant, that he was being careful with me because I'd been hurt. But then I remembered that he'd always been careful with me, never pushed too hard. It was just the kind of person he was. “If it hurts you to hear me talk this way, I'll stop. I'll never bring it up again.”

I lowered my head, ashamed that he had seen my vulnerability. “Thank you,” I began, but he broke in again, gently.

“But let me say one thing, one time. Please? And trust that I say it because I believe in the magic of this place and I think it
might
help you. And if that possibility exists, I want to give it to you. I want, at least, to try.”

I lifted my head. I felt heavy, weighted down with fear, with apprehension. But I was finally learning to trust him. I couldn't go back on that so quickly. “Speak,” I entreated.

“What if it doesn't hurt to be near me because I'm bad for you? What if it hurts because my love for you is speeding up the healing? Or even … helping them grow.”

I inhaled slowly. The possibility was too much for me. But even more than that … “You love me?”

The look in his eyes was so sincere, I almost cried. “Are you kidding? I think I've loved you from the beginning. I know that sounds crazy, but … I knew you. Even before you told me who you were, I knew you. And I love you more than anything in the world.”

Tears stung in my eyes and I didn't blink them away. I'd never wanted to cry in front of anyone. But that wasn't the strangest thing. At the sound of his confession—the mention of his love—a stinging pain shot through my back.

Could he be right? Is there any way … ?

But maybe it wasn't so impossible. Love had always been the greatest healer. And here in Faerie, magic took physical form.

“And you would do this for me? You would let me … use you?” I asked.

“Oh my God, use me. Yes.” He was laughing. I wanted to laugh too, but I couldn't. Our situation was too dangerous. The ease with which I could hurt him … the ease with which he could hurt me … did I dare risk it? 

“Taylor.”

He grinned, taking my hands. “You wouldn't be using me.”

“Yes, I would.”

He shook his head. “You'd be using this as an excuse to do what you've wanted to do all along.”

It was a preposterous thing to say. The power of flight, a mere excuse? I looked into his eyes, wanting to protest. I looked down at his hands, ready to pull myself from his grip. But eyes and hands, lips and skin, drew me in without even trying. I realized something right then.

“You're right,” I said, and brought my lips to his. He tasted of mint and berries. I wanted more. “Come with me into the forest.”

11

T
ayl
o
R

She led me, or rather, I led her, through the trees. I tripped over more branches than I could count. I couldn't wait to touch her, kiss her, taste her. I wanted to memorize every inch of her skin.

We came to a stop in a clearing filled with silvery light. I was unlacing her dress before we'd even touched the ground. “Come here,” I said, pulling her close to me. And I kissed her, slowly, sweetly, as her body curved into me.

“I missed you,” I said, pulling back to look into her eyes.

“And I, you,” she murmured, brushing the hair from my face. The intensity in her gaze surprised me. Every time she looked at me like that, I couldn't believe it. Then I was kissing her cheeks, her neck, her throat; everything I could reach before I managed to take off her dress. And when it fell away, and I saw her without anything between us, I was struck with a funny thought.

When Elora had come to the human world, she must've
thought it was strange that people wore so many layers of clothes. I don't mean the way we dress in the winter—I mean the way we keep our private areas bound up even on the most sweltering days. I still remember that shame I felt, as a kid, when I realized the other guys would see me in the locker room showers. I knew how dangerous it was to let them see me.

But here in Faerie, they must not have worried about those types of things. Underneath her dress, Elora was naked.

“Oh my God.”

“You say that a lot,” she said, staring at me unashamed. “Do you believe in God?”

“I do right now.”

She laughed. And she pulled my head back to her neck, so that I could kiss some more. It was all the reassurance I needed. I'd been afraid, leading her clumsily through the forest, that she'd take one look at me up close and change her mind. She'd pulled away from me so many times before. But something was different now. She was different now. I didn't have to wonder every second if she wanted me.

I knew she did. I could feel it.

When she lifted my chin and kissed me, I started to lose control of my limbs. My legs shook as we sank to our knees. There were so many places I wanted to touch, my hands were completely overwhelmed. I started at her shoulders—they seemed a safe-enough place—and trailed my hands down her arms. I couldn't imagine ever getting tired of touching even the least erotic places. I wanted to feel everything, no matter how innocent. I wanted to make her shake just by breathing on her neck.

And I did.

It happened when I slid my hand into her hair, just at the nape of her neck. I leaned in and took her earlobe between my teeth, kissing her softly. “I love you,” I said, whispering the words I'd been practicing in my head. “I've never loved anybody as much as I love you. And honestly, I want to make love to you so badly, but … ”

“But?”

“I think we should go slow,” I said. I mean, sure, I wanted to do
everything
, but we'd hardly done
anything
before this, and we needed to be careful. I could hurt her with the brush of my hand. I could humiliate myself with my lack of experience. Better to take things slowly, and figure it out as we went.

“I can kiss every inch of your body,” I whispered, “until you feel better than you've ever felt. Will you let me do that for you?”

Her whole body was shaking when she said, “Only if you let me do the same for you.”

“Come here, baby.” I guided her onto my lap, so that she was straddling me. I wanted to keep her safe as much as I wanted to make her feel good. I couldn't stand the thought of anything hurting her, even though I knew my touch could hurt her. But she was here, in my lap, in my hands, kissing me like she would die if we broke apart. And I really believed what I'd said, about helping her wings grow. I'd seen something when I'd looked at them. I knew, in the deepest parts of me, that I was right about this. But could I hurt her to prove it?

“Is this okay?” I asked, gliding my hands down to her waist.

“Yes,” she breathed as I reached her hips. It was incredibly difficult to keep my hands from traveling to her most private places. But I'd waited this long for her, and I wouldn't mess things up by moving too fast. I waited for her to guide me, each second, to show me what she wanted, when she wasn't saying it.

The word “yes” on her lips was the sexiest thing I'd ever heard.

I wanted to hear it again. I slid my hands back up her waist, over her stomach, rising, rising. “Can I touch you?” I asked, my lips still close to her ear.

“Yes.”

Oh, God, I was in heaven. I hadn't been kidding about believing in God. Or
gods
. Everything, maybe. Ever since we'd met, I'd thought anything and everything was possible. And as my fingertips grazed the skin over her heart, and spread outward, I felt like I was worshipping her.

She inhaled sharply. For a brief second, I felt exceedingly pleased with myself. She liked me. I was making her feel good. But when she bit her bottom lip, I pulled back.

“Am I hurting you?”

She didn't answer.

“Elora. Please tell me.”

She turned, looking into the darkness. “Yes.”

Funny how a minute can change the power of a word. This time, her “yes” was a knife in my chest. But I'd known this could happen. I'd encouraged her to do this, knowing full well it might hurt her. Was I so selfish that I'd compromise her well-being for my own pleasure?

“I'm sorry,” I said, pulling back. “I'm so sorry. We should stop this.”

“What? No.” She took my hands and put them back on her thighs. I knew I should pull away but I couldn't. There was power in her touch that I couldn't fight.

Didn't want to.

Couldn't.

“I don't want to hurt you,” I said.

“It's not so bad.” Her lips found mine, and lingered.

My resolve weakened. Pretty soon it would dissipate into the air. “Even a little is too much,” I managed.

She shook her head. “It's all right, if you're careful. Because … ”

“What?”

“I think you're right.”

I inhaled slowly, trying to steady my spinning head, but it backfired. Her scent filled my head, woodsy and sharp like the forest after the rain. Flowers and fruit and something spicy, like cinnamon. I ran my tongue from her throat to her neck.

She giggled a little, like maybe it tickled.

“Is this okay?” I asked.

“Better than.”

“Good.” I trailed little kisses around her throat. “This?”

“Yes. Mmm.” Her body shuddered, and I realized my hands had been slipping toward the center of her. She was warm there, and I wanted to move closer, to touch her at her core. I'd never felt like this before, never felt this urgency. Even when I'd wanted to get closer to someone, it had been a purely physical desire. But as her lips touched mine, pressing into me, the whole of her pressing into me, I felt every part of me drawn to her. I felt my body rise and reach out for her. I felt my heart straining against my chest. And my spirit too—I felt clearly what I'd only just suspected before. Maybe it was this place. Maybe it was Elora. Or maybe it was because I was completely and totally in love with her.

My hands slid farther up her thighs and she wrapped her arms around me, pulling me close with an urgency I recognized in myself. I was kissing her mouth now—couldn't tear myself away from her lips—and I couldn't see or smell or taste anything but her. When she murmured the words, I wasn't sure I'd heard her right.

“Hmmm?” I said, thinking that if I hadn't heard her right I could pass it off as a moan rather than a question. But she looked up at me, right into my eyes, and said, “I'm in love with you.”

Every part of me froze.

“I'm so in love with you,” she whispered, like the words held power. Or danger. I guess for her, they did. They erased everything she'd ever believed about humans. But they built something new in its place. Something terrifying, yes, but beautiful too.

I wrapped my arms around her waist, down low where it wouldn't hurt her. The skin was burning up there. All of her was burning up; a sudden heat went searing through her. I loosened my grip, letting cool air rush in between us, but she pulled me back, almost violently. She held onto me, nails digging into my shirt and I held her there, trying to protect her from whatever was hurting her. When she pulled away, to look at me, I expected to see a pained expression on her face. But the look she wore was awe.

“Kiss me,” she said.

I did.

Her breathing quickened and she ran her fingers through my hair. The look of awe hadn't lessened. But a slow smile cut into it. “Taylor.”

“What is it?”

She grinned, kissing me once, twice, three times. “It doesn't hurt so badly anymore.”

“What—really?”

She nodded.

“That's amazing. Your own love helped the magic to work.”

“Not mine.” She shook her head. “Ours,” she said, pressing into me until I was lying on my back. Now she crawled over me and she was the animal, the wild thing, the goddess. She led my hand up her thigh, her face so close to mine, holding onto my gaze with ferocity. Maybe memorizing me the way I always tried to memorize her. But this, I would never forget.

The image was burned into my memory.

When she said, “Heal me,” I did as she asked.