All That Glows by Ryan Graudin

far from relaxed. My mind and senses are on high alert for the dangers night brings.
    “Good night, Embers.”
    “It’s Emrys,” I correct him.
    “I know.” His words grow weak under another yawn and he collapses onto his bed. “But your hair, it looks like embers.”
    I tug a strand flat between two fingers. Embers. I’d never thought of that before. I wind it around my knuckles, tighter and tighter until no more blood can reach my nails.
    It’s only when I’m certain he’s asleep that I smile.

Five
    S unlight is just barely cracking through the curtains, bathing small sections of the room in blazing light when Richard’s eyes finally open. I sit as I have much of the night, the frozen watcher. He rises slowly, peeling the fabric off of his bare chest and sliding his feet onto the lavish rug of Persian warriors and orchards.
    He catches sight of me mid-step. He stops, limbs suspended and pupils grown wide: black holes preparing to swallow the infinite.
    “You’re still here,” he says finally.
    I nod, my first movement since he woke.
    The prince wipes his eyes. His knuckles dig deep into the softness of his lids, like he’s trying to fling off the remainders of a dream. When I don’t disappear, he blinks. “So, I didn’t imagine you. . . .”
    “You’re awake,” I reply. “And I’m here.”
    “So all that stuff about soul feeders is still true?”
    “More than ever.”
    He cocks his head, those honey-warm eyes still glazed over with the otherness of sleep. “And you’re here to stay?”
    As I nod, I feel something freeze inside my chest. I’d spent all the moonlit hours thinking, debating, stretching the facts. There’s too much swirling through my head: the words of the Tower raven, the great taboo Mab put in place so long ago that forbids any interaction with mortalkind, my fizzled spell, and the prince’s role in it all. This path I’ve chosen isn’t the best or the easiest, but it’s the only one left to me.
    For now I have to let Richard see.
    “Good,” he mumbles.
    The word hangs in my mind like an unsaid spell. Good? What does that mean? But Richard offers no clarification. Instead he moves across the room and collects some clothes from an overflowing drawer.
    Once he’s dressed, he turns and looks at me. “Since you’re stuck with me all day, I thought maybe we could have some fun with it. Do you eat food?”
    “Sometimes. I don’t really need it.”
    “Why don’t we have breakfast in the gardens?” Richard squints out the window. The sky between the drapes is a clear and cloudless blue, the kind used in china patterns. “Have a little get-to-know-you chat.”
    “I thought that’s what happened last night.” The idea of breakfast with Richard isn’t so bad. As much as I don’t like to admit it, it’s nice having someone looking at me. Talking to me.
    But there are eyes everywhere, of younglings and mortals alike. It would be easy, so easy, for us to get caught.
    “Are you kidding? There’s no end to my questions.” Richard makes a vain, mirrorless attempt at flattening his bedhead. “What do you say? Is it a date?”
    My breath catches. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea. . . .”
    “Why not?”
    “The other Fae don’t know I’ve shown myself to you.” Guilt writhes in my stomach, like a bundle of earthworms struggling to find soil. “It would be a bad thing if they found out.”
    “Really?” It takes the prince a moment to register the information. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
    “Fine.” A small sigh escapes me, marking my relief. I’d been waiting for Richard to pursue the matter.
    “Great. I’ll tell the staff to set up.”
    I remain in my chair as Richard calls a maid and makes arrangements. The rational, Fae part of me is numbed, amazed that I’ve allowed the situation to go this far. At this point, any memory spell I’d have to use on the prince to cover up the past day would be incredibly potent. Noticeable. Breena would