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Summary
“Lady Alia told me something interesting, actually. Turns out she’s not a fae at all.”
“Indeed? How curious,” Flins hums. There is tension in his face, but his attention is still focused on Illuga.
“She made fun of me about it. She said that I, of all people, should be able to spot a fae, given that…” Illuga trails off and licks his lips; Flins tracks the flash of tongue. It’s now or never. “Given that I know one so well. Are you a fae, Sir Flins?”
A certain revelation over Flins’s ancestry causes Illuga to try take the next step in their relationship — while breaking every rule for interacting with the fae in the process.