“Why doesn’t he seem happy about this?” Driscoll said. “You’re in love. Go shout it from the rooftops. Shove it in all our faces. Make us nauseous from how sweet and annoying you are.”
“Because he’s scared,” Leoni said softly. “Because he’s not his sister,who jumps headfirst into everything. He’s not his brother, who always has a plan. He’s the one who stays out of commitments, who avoids relationships, because then there’s no risk.”
“Wow,” Driscoll said, “that was a really good analysis.”
I straightened, rubbing my face. “I can’t risk losing Poppy.” I thought about last night, how Poppy and I had fought—right after I’d shoved my head between her legs and pleasured her until we both saw stars. “Relationships can be good, sure. But they can also cause so much heartache, conflict, fighting.”
“Which you always avoid,” Driscoll pointed out. “Except just now when you yelled at us.”
Leoni put her hand on my arm. “Prince Lochlan, you’ve always been in the middle of conflict. Gabby told me about the all the times you defused the tension between her and your father, between your father and your mother. You’ve done the same for me and Driscoll time and time again.”
Driscoll stroked his chin. “Oh yeah, you have.”
“You’ve spent your life avoiding fights and conflict of any kind for yourself. Yet with Poppy, you’re willing to fight. You’ve been fighting me every step of the way. Doesn’t that tell you something?”
I swallowed the thick knot growing in my throat.
“Conflict isn’t always bad,” Leoni said. “Sometimes it helps us grow too. Gabby and I fought all the time.”
“It’s true,” Driscoll said. “They fought a lot on that pirate ship.”
“And every time it made our relationship stronger. If Poppy is worth dying for, don’t you think she’s worth fighting for too? You’re willing to risk your life to keep her safe, yet you’re not willing to tell her how you really feel because you’re scared?”
Well, when she put it that way . . .
Driscoll shifted on the couch. “Okay, but really, what happened on that balcony?”
I groaned. Leoni was right. I’d been so stupid. Running away from my feelings because I was scared of them, because I was scared that if I showed anyone my brokenness they’d run. Yet I’d already shown that part of myself to Poppy, and she hadn’t gone anywhere. She’d taken all my broken pieces and put them back together.
“I have to tell her how I feel,” I said.
“Duh,” Driscoll responded. He pinched his fingers together. “Just one little detail about the balcony?”
Leoni leaned over Driscoll. “That’s not all you have to tell her. If you have feelings for her, if you love her, then you need to tell her about those blue lines, about the fact that you’re dying.”
“Will you be quiet?” I hissed, looking out the door. “Listen, I’m going to tell her everything. Soon. But that’s a burden I don’t want to place on her just yet.”
“And when will you place it on her? When you’re dead and it’s too late?” Leoni snapped. “Why do all of you Asters make my job so damned difficult?”
Emory and Poppy swept back into the room, and I straightened, praying to the Seven Spirits Poppy hadn’t heard any of that.
“Well?” I asked. “What’s going on?”
Poppy looked tired, purple smudging the area under her eyes, and her shoulders slumped. I wanted to take her in my arms and assure her it would all be okay. And it would be. I’d make damn sure of it.
She folded her arms across her stomach. “I think Emory can help us find passage to the shadow court. She’s agreed to smuggle us out of here before the sky king finds me. We can finally find Gran.”
“That’s amazing.” I frowned. “And dangerous. Why would you do that?”
Emory studied her nails. “Because I love doing things right under my husband’s nose that I know would infuriate him. He thinks me the simpleminded, docile wife. Has no idea what I’m capable of.”
Driscoll whistled and nodded toward Emory. “I like her.”
I was not about to dive into that drama. I had no idea who her husband was and didn’t particularly care. I just needed Poppy to be safe, and I needed a moment alone to talk with her. As soon as possible.
Poppy’s eyes widened. “Spirits below.” She frantically reached into the pocket of her lavender woolen dress, digging around, then pulled out that necklace she’d worn since that day I first saw her in that tower. She let out a sigh of relief. “I can’t believe this didn’t fly out when we fell.” She looped it around her neck. “It belonged to my gran,” she explained to Emory.
I’d never asked her about it. Didn’t know its significance.
