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now, or in the future. The fight had pretty much drained right out of me.
“Since you refuse to speak on your own behalf, and considering we have sworn statements from many eye witnesses, this council has no choice but to—”
“If it pleases the council . . .” The double doors of the chamber swung wide, and the Shaede High King swept into the room as if he owned the place. “I beg a moment of your time.” Alexander Peck—or to me, just Xander—never turned down an opportunity to show off his dramatic flair, and right now, he claimed center stage.
“With all due respect, Your Highness,” the blue-haired Fae said, “the time to testify in front of this council has passed.”
Decked out in what had to have been a ten thousand dollar suit, Xander looked as regal as he did imposing. Though his stance was relaxed, his molten caramel eyes sparked with a cold light that dared anyone to turn down his request. I could only imagine what he was up to. Maybe he couldn’t stand that I was the center of attention. Or worse, maybe he just wanted to prove that he could throw his weight around.
“Do I have to remind you about Edinburgh, Amelia?” Oh yeah, Xander definitely wanted to throw his weight around.
The Fae looked at the questioning faces of her colleagues before she cleared her throat, fidgeting with the cuff of her sleeve. She scooped a glowing, pearlescent ball in her hand and knocked the faerie equivalent of a gavel down on the table twice. “We’ll adjourn for fifteen minutes. Alexander, if you’ll follow us to our private chambers, we’ll hear what you have to say.”
Xander flashed me an arrogant smile. He waited patiently as the seven council members stood, and then followed in their wake as they walked, single file, from the room. “Sit tight,” he said as he sauntered past Raif and me. “I’ll be back shortly.”
We sat back down at the same time, and I asked Raif, “What the hell is he up to?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. We are talking about Xander, after all.”
Raif leaned back in his seat, staring at the ceiling as if his brother’s plans were written there. I, on the other hand, had no interest in wondering what His Royal High and Mightiness had up his sleeve. Instead, my mind drifted to where it always did lately: the clusterfuck that was my life.
You’d think I would have lost track of the days since that night Tyler left me. The emerald pendulum that I wore around my neck, silenced the sound of time as it ticked within my soul, but I had invisible tally marks etched on my heart. Eighty-seven days, six hours, fifteen minutes, and twenty-two seconds. Twenty-three . . . twenty-four . . . twenty-five . . .
It’s not like I’d been brooding the entire time. I had a system, alternating between outings for my hearings with the PNT’s judicial council, setting up camp on my bed, answering the door for grocery delivery, and occasionally crashing on the couch while I let the TV lull me to sleep with mind-numbing entertainment. I wasn’t proud of the fact that I knew every single cast member of Jersey Shore down to their cocktails of choice, but it was better than the alternative: allowing my tortured thoughts to drive me to a state of near insanity.
I leaned forward in my chair and massaged my sternum. The imaginary fist that had been squeezing my heart for the past seven months clenched tight, leaving a dull ache I couldn’t get rid of no matter how long I rubbed. I’m not a fool. I realized that the blame for our separation rested solely on me. I ran—and spent four months away—from the one person in this world I should have sprinted toward . I shunned his protection, disregarded his strength, and stomped all over the love he offered . . . all in the name of arrogance.
Ty showed me how much he appreciated my treatment of him by returning the favor in classic “eye for an eye” fashion. I’d come back to Seattle after a months-long excursion spent in O Anel looking