Page 55 of Kiss and Spell
“It’s more of a dance party, but with poofy dresses and tuxedos,” she said. “It marks the official end of the Smitten season and the crowning of the Sweetheart.”
“Are you going?” he asked carefully then held his breath waiting for her incoming request. He assumed since they attended all the Smitten events together that they’d go to the ball together. In the Realm, balls were opportunities for the wealthy and titled to trade information, gossip, and flirt. Fae danced in the gardens, on flowers and even raindrops. They never frolicked at balls.
He’d grit his teeth and bear it but remain by her side all night if she needed him. It wouldn’t be too difficult to fake his way through a waltz. Then again, he’d get another opportunity to dance with her. His body hummed at that idea.
Ursula focused on the road. “Gwen said if I don’t go, then she’ll slap on a wig and pretend to be me.”
“Ah,” Xavier said, a grin coming to his face. “So, you’ll be in attendance.”
She shrugged as if accepting her fate. “It seems so.”
Here it comes. He braced himself for the request. He waited, but she said nothing else. She hummed to a little tune, but she didn’t ask him to be her date. His brain celebrated. You’re off the hook. You don’t have to attend another ball. But his heart yearned. He wanted to go with her.
Xavier cleared his throat. “Madame, if you’re in need of an escort, I humbly offer my services.”
She didn’t look at him. Her hands gripped the steering wheel. “The ball’s on midsummer.”
He shut his mouth as icy realization washed over him. If he got his perfect kiss, then he’d be home by then.
“We’re here,” she said.
Pristine blue skies and sunshine greeted them as they arrived at Grove Garden. She had texted him this morning that this space would be the perfect backdrop to help Xavier get his kiss. He didn’t need to be convinced. If she believed it was perfect, he trusted her. With every fiber of his being.
They parked in the lot, got out of the car, and walked down a short path lined with black antique lampposts. Xavier studied one warily, feeling drawn to it for some reason. Ursula stood by him.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “It’s not made of iron. It’s safe. I checked.”
“There must be a story here.” Xavier eyed it. “If you rub the base, does a ghost jump out and tell you the future?”
Ursula laughed. “No, but Grampa James believed that if you were feeling lost, the lampposts would guide you in the right direction.”
He nodded, pleased with her family legend. Xavier faced her and let his attention roam over Ursula. Her light pink daisy-print dress boldly displayed the curves he’d been thinking of for days. Her face was framed by her curly black hair. Those same curls brushed the top of her cheekbones and briefly brushed against her mouth as she watched him.
Ursula gestured down the path. “Shall we, Your Highness?”
“Lead the way, Madame.”
They left the lamppost and walked down to what seemed to be the garden’s main gate. A large sign by the garden’s entrance warned visitors and their animal guests not to eat any of the herbs or flowers.
“Close your eyes,” she whispered. He did as she requested. Xavier reached out and he felt her hand pull him forward through the garden’s gates. His shoes crunched on dead leaves. Dangling vines tickled his ears. Curiosity kept his steps steady. From what he could guess, they were walking down the pathway to the garden.
“I couldn’t bring you home to the Realm, but I wanted to bring you here.” She let go of his hand. He felt inviting sunshine on his face. Birdsong, vibrant and spirted, played above his head. Cool air brought the natural scent of flowers to his nose. He inhaled and exhaled the air into his lungs, feeling at ease.
“Open your eyes, Xavier,” she whispered.
What greeted him rendered him speechless. Bell-shaped flowers, purple tube blossoms hanging from long stalks, and blooming plants crawled over tall fences. This hidden garden, filled with flourishing buds, was a place where fae dwelled. There wasn’t an inch of this space that didn’t immediately hold his attention and bring him a sense of peace. A sense of power. His chest expanded. He’d claimed his true name, the one bestowed upon himself and that gave him his power with plants, in a space just like this one. That name, the one he’d buried deep within his mind, cracked to the surface. He hadn’t thought about it in so long that merely remembering it gave him a feeling of lightness.
Appreciation, like a cozy blanket, enfolded Xavier’s body and made him feel grounded. He turned to Ursula, affection gripping his throat. She said nothing but gave Xavier a kind, understanding smile. “Thank you” wasn’t enough. Her hair caught the wind and kicked up. He breathed in, her delicious floral scent tickling his nose and making him focus on her and the flowers surrounding them. She faced him.
“Which one is the prettiest?” she asked.
You. He bit his tongue to keep from blurting out that single word.
“Tell me yours,” he said instead.
“I like this one here.” Ursula’s fingers brushed the petals of the highest honeysuckle dangling from the vine. The flower shivered under her touch. He’d never envied a living thing more.
“We fae love its nectar. It thrives in the shade.”