The Deaths of Me (NEW ADULT REWORK)

13. Dane's Great Confrontation

When it comes to exploring the sea of love, I prefer buoys.

-Andrew G. Dehel

The entrance to the queen's palace was under a bridge in an abandoned county park in the northeast corner of the city. Dane had never been invited to her palace before, and so Ivy led the way as if Dane and Rory weren't even behind her. He was starting to realize that Ivy wasn't just cold for show. She really was just a maudlin, mean person. He couldn't understand a person who could be so one-dimensional. And he definitely didn't feel good about releasing someone as breakable as Rory into her care.

As it were, Rory was clinging to his arm as they stepped over large shards of broken glass, abandoned tires, and jagged planks of wood. He helped her over anything that could have tripped her, ignoring Ivy's annoyed glances.

The smell of fae was almost totally drowned out by the stench of sewage and run-off from the road, but Dane's nose still twitched at the faint scent. The trio ducked under hanging moss that smelled dank and aged. The opening led them into a tunnel with minimal light, and Rory huddled closer to him. He relished the feeling of her hands around his forearm as she tried to navigate through the dim tunnel. He kept the muscles there flexed for her benefit, ignoring the ache that came from it.

Ivy led the way as if she'd been there countless times before, and he couldn't rightly say for certain that she hadn't. Her bright hair bobbed in and out of sight as she darted ahead and back again to wave them forward. Eventually, Dane noticed the exasperation on her face.

"Well if you stayed with us, you wouldn't be so frustrated," he remarked when he swatted a browning vine out of their way. "It's much warmer over here." He waggled his eyebrows down at Rory, making her giggle.

"For your information, I was scouting for pixie pick-pockets," she huffed back. She clamped her hands to her hips and waited for them to catch up. "They live in these tunnels—the poor ones." She gestured to the nooks of concave dirt carved expertly into the walls around them. "Pixies are notorious for their blending skills."

Rory craned her neck to see into the crack as she said, "But we don't have anything worth stealing."

"I could think of a few things," he insinuated as he lifted her up and over a pipe emerging from the ground, making sure to keep her tight against him. She held onto him, leaning absently into his side as they continued on. He encouraged this and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, smothering her in a warmth that she unknowingly returned back tenfold.

Ivy smirked. "You have been invited into the queen's court. When people are invited to see the queen of the fairies, it's not because they're beggars or homeless. This is prime thievery grounds, this is."

All dark omens and bad intentions with that girl. Dane did, however, begin to peer harder at the immaculately carved out tunnel walls. Something like glitter trailed along the dirt there. But it looked thick to the touch, like someone had sneezed out a crafts party and smeared it around. The thought alone made him shudder and he pulled Rory closer to his side. Concerned, she looked up at him.

Almost instinctively, he grazed the tip of his nose against her left temple. He was just used to communicating with touches more than with words. Rory seemed to accept that as an answer and returned her gaze front.

When Dane did the same, he realized that they neared the end of the hallway. The light there was pale blue, as if dawn had crept up on them.

Ivy, of course, muttered out something full of sarcasm and motioned them forward. Rory hesitated and gave a swift tug to Dane's arm. She had his attention. To be honest, it was harder to find a time when she didn't have his attention.