Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 132625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Usually I don’t remember any dreams of my own, but the illusion Konner planted in my mind is strong enough that my own dream stands as vivid in my mind this morning as the dream with Jasalyn’s memory.
I climb out of bed and look down at the form I’ve taken. Jasalyn’s body is small, and my pants are so big I have to fold and roll them at the top to keep them from falling. My top slips off one shoulder, but unless Misha brought clothes for me, they’ll have to do for now.
Stepping out of the bedroom, I find Misha standing at the big window in the kitchen, the morning sun catching on his dark hair and making it shine. I slip into the bathroom before he can turn around.
I take care of my needs and clean up, avoiding the mirror and ignoring the pit in my stomach that comes with not knowing when I can be in my own skin again. It had been so long since I’d been myself, I’d stopped noticing the discomfort of being in another’s skin, how every movement and step feels a little off.
When I exit the bathroom, Misha’s waiting and looks me over, some emotion I can’t identify playing at his lips.
Yes, he thought he was falling for Jasalyn and now he’s looking at her again. But this time he knows the truth.
I swallow. “Good morning.”
He arches a brow and stalks toward me. “You had nightmares.”
I cringe. I was probably thrashing in my sleep. “Sorry.”
“Yours or hers?”
“Mine,” I whisper, and he frowns. “I know. I was hoping we’d get something useful too, but it was only a memory of a tutor teaching her to meditate.”
Nodding, he skims those russet eyes over me again. “I still can’t quite believe it. You’re an entirely different person—from the way you look to the way you smell to the energy you bring into a room.”
“Yeah. That’s the gift.”
“I still should’ve known,” he says quietly.
He couldn’t have, but I won’t argue. “Is it weird for you?” I have no business asking, but it seems I can’t help myself.
His jaw is hard as he folds his arms. “What do you mean by that?”
I swallow. Serves me right. He doesn’t owe me any explanations for where his emotions are right now. “Nothing. It’s . . . never mind.”
“Do you mean is it strange to see you in the body of my best friend’s little sister after you made me believe I’d fallen in love with her?”
My breath catches. Love.
It wasn’t real. He thought you were Jas.
He leans against the counter and studies me with a brow cocked in question. He’s going to make me own up to my real question.
“You wouldn’t have fallen for me if you’d known I wasn’t her.”
His jaw ticks. “No. I don’t tend to fall for females who lie and scheme their way into my bed.”
I bow my head. I deserve that. “Right.”
His exhale is audible. “But to answer your question, not really. I was never attracted to Jasalyn before you posed as her, so the way I feel when I look at you would be the same whether you’re in this form or that of your great-grandfather. Not that my feelings are any of your business.”
Before I can reply, a goblin appears in the room and Misha nods to him. “We’re ready.”
The goblin turns to me and cocks his head to the side, giving me a nod. A silent acknowledgment of who I am, and who we both lost.
Misha looks back and forth between us with a frown before realization dawns. “That was your goblin—that brought me to you in the cave, that took us back to the castle when you were hurt so badly. He’s gone now?”
“Nigel was sometimes my very best friend.” And sometimes my only friend. My eyes burn with tears I won’t shed.
“Goblins make sacrifices only when they’re certain,” Misha’s goblin says before offering me a hand.
“Let’s go,” Misha says, voice uncharacteristically gruff, and when he takes my other hand, I swear he gives it a subtle squeeze.
I close my eyes and hold my breath while we spin and fall and surge back to Faerie.
When we are fully corporeal again, we’re in a vast room with soaring ceilings and crystal chandeliers. The black floors are polished to such a shine I can see my reflection in them, and the dais holds a massive, polished ebony throne. Before I can get my footing, I lose my balance and fall on my backside. I mentally curse my lack of grace.
Misha, of course, landed easily on his own two feet and looks down at me with something like disdain. Wondering how he ever fell for someone like me in any form, no doubt.
“Felicity!” The sound of my brother’s voice pulls my attention off the Wild Fae king. Hale scoops me off the floor and pulls me against his chest so hard I might object if it weren’t exactly what I needed. “I knew you were still alive. I couldn’t explain it. I just knew it.” When he puts me down, he draws back to study me. “How are you? Did they hurt you?”