He cuts me off, placing his hand on my arm. The touch burns deliciously where his fingers trail over my skin. “It’s perfect. I’ll read it thoroughly and treat it with care. And I cannot begin to tell you how excited I am to see notes from a young Laurel. Thank you for trusting me with it.”

I look into his eyes, and they bore into me. He always seems to see right down to my very core. It’s infuriating. It’s thrilling. It’s everything. I can’t look away, and it’s only when Fionn makes a pointed cough in our direction that I realize we’ve been standing there, staring at one another for who knows how long. I shuffle back to my pouf and sit down, eyes decidedly not on Thorne as he returns to his own seat.

Laurel

There are many traditions and myths about the Winter Solstice. Each kingdom has their own practices, from resting for two weeks to exchanging gifts. One of the most beloved of Winter Solstice legends is that of fae mates, who are compelled to give their mate a Solstice gift that once belonged to them. Some trinket or object that holds significance or meaning, given to the fae’s mate for safekeeping. Many young lovers will practice the tradition on Winter Solstice, lost in the myth’s romanticism. But fae mates, if they ever existed, are now nothing more than fables told to spark joy on a holiday.

The Legends of the Fae, Volume III

In the early afternoon, I return to my room to prepare for dinner. After running a bath, I set my travel makeup and metal pins on my vanity. But I keep the necklace on as I dip into the steaming water. I run over every moment with Thorne, still so confused by him. One moment he’s flippantly flirting, treating me no differently than every other female he’s encountered in Thayaria. Then in the next moment, he’s looking at me with a deep longing that goes beyond simple attraction. His relationship with Silene is so baffling. He clearly cares deeply for her, but whether that’s as a friend, a lover, or something in between, I cannot sort out. He says they’re just friends, but with everything the rumors say about him, how could I possibly trust that? I stay in the bath until the water turns tepid, staring out at the barren landscape through the window, lost in thought.