Istood in the clearing of the forest, staring down at the checkered picnic blanket, a basket sitting atop it filled with cheese, chocolate, and wine.
Fairy bugs flitted around us, insects the size of my fingernail with wings that glowed all different colors. They were well-known for their beautiful wings and their ability to heal wounds. Many healers captured fairy bugs and ground up their wings into tonics. It wasn’t a cure for serious illness but could be used for colds, fevers, and minor cuts and infections.
I rubbed my jaw. “Do you think it’s too much?” I asked Draven.
He leaned against one of the tall trees surrounding the clearing. “Yes,” he said.
“You’re right.” I looked at the little checkered blanket. “It’s not enough. She’s not going to be impressed by a picnic blanket and some cheese.”
“You’ve lost it,” Draven muttered. “You like the woman. When you like a woman, you let her know. Then you court her. Then you marry her. And then you have babies. At least that’s what I’ve been told.”
I snorted. Draven certainly wouldn’t know. He didn’t like anybody. Apart from his sister... his best friend Elm, and maybe me.
I turned to face him as he swatted a fairy bug from his face. “Tell me, when was the last time you told a woman you had feelings for her?”
He scowled.
“That’s what I thought.”
He had many women after him because of his wealth and power, but my friend had no interest in love. He’d had lovers over the years, but he’d never spend more than a night with them. He definitely wouldn’t go to these kind of lengths. I’d clearly brought the wrong person out here to help me. I should’ve asked Karl, but the orc was having the time of his life in Thistlegrove. Now that I’d entered into this fake relationship with Emma, he didn’t have to constantly guard me. He could actually have a life, and he was living it. Going to the tavern every night, going fishing in Shrubble River, visiting all the many shops Thistlegrove had to offer. He’d be sorely disappointed when he actually had to start doing his job again. Which might be soon if Emma rejected me and our relationship was officially over.
Draven shoved off the tree and stalked forward. “It’s nice.”
My eyes widened. “Was that an actual compliment from Draven Darkstone?”
He glowered. “I’ll take it back if you keep harping on about it.”
I held up my hands. “Alright, thank you for helping me set up.” He hadn’t actually done much other than glower at me while I’d done most of the work. “Now I just need to get Emma here and tell her how I’ve felt for the past decade.”
“Sounds easy.” Draven turned, then looked over his shoulder. “Good luck, Riven.”
I was going to need it.
Through the treetops,I could see the pink and lavender sky, which meant Emma should be closing shop and heading home. I knewfor a fact that she walked through this exact spot to get to her and her father’s cottage, which meant all I had to do was wait.
I shot a glance at the picnic blanket and started pacing, wondering if I was being a fool. This could ruin everything between Emma and me. Decades of friendship gone with one revelation. But the alternative was worse. I couldn’t do this anymore. Especially after that kiss. I couldn’t pretend she was just a friend or a fake girlfriend.
I blew out a shaky breath as boots stomped and crunched over leaves. My head shot up just as Emma emerged through the trees. Her gaze bounced between the picnic basket and me.
Her face lost some of its color, and her hand floated to her mouth, horror flashing in her eyes.
Not the reaction I was hoping for.
“I’m sorry, I just need to...” She backed up, bumping into a tree, then turned and ran.
That definitely was not the reaction I was expecting. Shit. I took off after her. “Emma!” I called. “Emma, please, just wait!”
I caught flashes of her dark blue dress through the trees ahead, but she never slowed.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I hadn’t known if she’d want the same things as I did, but I definitely did not expect her to just turn and run like that.
And damnit, I was not used to running. Bards didn’t exactly have that in their job description. A stitch formed in my side, my legs cramping as I raced after her. Why in the witches’ tits was she so fast?
Finally, her little cottage came into view. A thick, knotted tree stood next to it, leaning over the cottage, its leaves brushing the roof.
Much like the buildings in town, moss clung to the roof, and vines hung down the sides, pink and purple flowers dotting them. Stone steps led up to the front door, and a little wooden porch stretched around the front of the house. Emma was just running up the steps and slamming the door as I arrived.
I hunched over, breathing heavily. “Emma,” I said. “Can we just talk?”
