Page 39 of Fae's Mate
“I do not.”
I consider for a moment. Admitting that he wants to release his brother so he can send us home sooner shocks me, and I wonder briefly if he has an ulterior motive, but I quickly brush it aside, as it seems unlikely.
It doesn’t surprise me that his brother would be eager to meet his mate. We are all here because he was so desperate to meet her, but I can’t imagine any of the others being happy about being singled out as the mate of the High Lord’s brother.
“Is there a way you can find out? Speak to your brother, perhaps? I wonder if it might be worth speaking to whoever is his mate first. See how they feel about his release?”
“That is wise,” he nods, as he stirs the pumpkin mix.
Well, I have never been called wise before.
“What if, whoever it is, does not wish to meet him?”
“Then I shall have to find a way to keep them apart.”
“You would do that?”
He nods. “Of course. As with you, it is a choice. I understand that humans are… different to fae. None of you will be forced to do anything you don’t want. Everyone will be allowed to return to the human realm if that’s… if that’s what they want.”
“What will it feel like?” I blurt.
He frowns at me.
“Will the bond break when we go back?”
When I glance at him, I find such hurt in his eyes that I realise what I have said and instantly regret it. “Sorry, that was a cruel question, I shouldn’t have asked—”
“No, it’s fine,” he swallows before continuing, “Honestly, I’m not sure what will happen. When the portal closes, with… one person either side of the veil, it might sever the bond. But I don’t know how that would feel. To have it, then to not. Or the bond may remain, stretched between the two realms… I don’t imagine either would feel pleasant but… I can’t be sure. It may simply disappear as if it never existed.”
All I can do is nod.
I slide the pastry base out of the rudimentary oven. It looks done, but with no timers, I do not know for sure, and set it on the counter to cool for a while.
The High Lord is quiet, and it doesn’t sit well with me. I feel guilty about my last question.
“So, when you’re not baking, what else do you do? What are the roles of the High Lord?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.
His lips twitch back into a faint smile, and my heart thumps a little harder.
“I run my court, and do my best to provide for my people, travelling to different villages and towns, to listen to what they need and assist where I can. I negotiate trade with the other courts, except Winter of course. It is my duty to keep my people safe and provide soldiers and guards where I can.”
“Sounds like hard work,” I muse, realising the weight of responsibility he carries.
“It is, but it’s worth it. I will do what I can until my magic fades.”
A strange feeling bubbles in my stomach, and I wonder if I could ease the burden of leadership. With his full magic unlocked, would running his court be any easier? I sigh and push the thought away. I can’t think about that right now.
The pastry has cooled, so I spoon the pumpkin mix into the middle, spreading it with a spoon, and return it to the oven. I have no way to gauge how long to leave it in there, so I suppose I will have to just check it every so often and judge when it’s ready by sight.
“Now we wait,” I sigh, wiping my hands down my apron front out of habit. It feels good to be baking again.
The High Lord slumps into a chair and I dare to glance over at him. His cheeks are slightly flushed in the heat of the kitchen and his expensive looking suit is splattered with flour and pumpkin flesh. I can’t help but giggle when I notice a smudge of flour on the side of his nose.
When he looks up at me, I tap the side of my nose. “You have flour, here.”
He rubs the wrong side of his nose with his still floury fingers and creates a larger smudge on the other side, and I laugh loudly.
“Here,” I offer, taking a clean cloth and going to stand in front of him.
