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“Let’s talk of something else,” I suggested, my words coming out in a rush. Vidalia eyed me shrewdly, but I ignored her. “Where is your bride? When can we meet her?” The words tasted like ash on my tongue, and I didn’t know why. My blood felt cold and hot all at once, and though I knew there was no reason to hate a woman I didn’t know, it felt like something had wounded me, and I couldn’t stop picking at the scab.
A moment later, two female nymphs appeared from a hut further down the water. Both beautiful, their faces bore striking similarities to one another. No doubt kin. Taller than Rainn and I, though level with Tor, the females had curves in places I could never hope to achieve. Their clothing covered little; I could see every inch of their bodies save for their nipples and genitals. Each wore their hair in a long black braid that hung to the center of their back.
I recognized the taller female straight away.
“You both remember Ilra,” Shay murmured.
I did remember her. I remembered my searing jealousy when I thought Shay had spent the night in her tent. I rubbed my chest, hating that he had affected me. I had no idea why. I didn’t love Shay. I barely knew him. He had not been kind to me beyond basic decency. Why did I feel like I had swallowed one of the spiky urchins in Shay’s net?
“You’re marrying Ilra?” My voice sounded oddly hoarse.
Shay shook his head. “No. I am marrying her younger sister, Ilaria. It was decided that we would be a better match.” The woman at Ilra’s side waved as she approached, her face rounder than her sisters. Her eyes shone with an innocence I’d never had, even as a youngling.
“Decided, huh?” Rainn joked, eying his friend for any sign of misdoubt.
Shay ignored the probing gaze and held up his net. “We should eat these fresh. It’s time for midday meal.”
I had eaten many urchins, though I’d never seen one smashed open against a rock to reveal the lucid orange innards.
Shay Mac Eoin stood at the head of the table, breaking open each urchin and scooping out the delicacy inside before passing the food down the table until everyone had a full plate. His net had been full to bursting, undoubtedly aided by his ability to breathe underwater.
Lunch was held at one of the more permanent huts by the bonfire—the treated leather spread tightly across a timber frame of thick fallen trees. It was a throne room of sorts, though it had the same feel as the rest of the nymph village—as if everything could be packed away at a moment's notice.
Several artifacts lined the painted leather walls, each more random than the last. A gilded circlet of dark twigs, not unlike a nest. A crown, no doubt too painful to wear. Nymphs did not have kings and queens like the other creeds. They had a chieftain, chosen for their magic and the strength of their blood. Shay Mac Eoin’s father had been the chieftain, and though Shay appeared to do the role, he wouldn’t officially take the title until he had wed. I supposed the nymphs placed more importance on legitimate children than the other fae creeds, possibly because of their shorter lifespans.
Rainn, Tor, and I had been given an honored position at the table by Shay’s side, opposite Vidalia and her two granddaughters, Ilra and Ilaria.
Ilra had shot several poisonous looks in my direction since we had arrived, but neither she nor her sister had spoken a word to us.
Shay had not shown any signs of affection to either of the nymph women. As several fae entered the hut, hugging and kissing their kin as they arrived, I realized there was a distinct lack of touch between Shay and his bride-to-be.
Perhaps it was a nymph tradition.
I sat silently, comfortable with the awkwardness that seemed to follow me everywhere. I caught glimpses of conversations as people realized my identity. My pearl moon freckle was long gone, but the scar left in its wake was clear to anyone who remembered the Mad Queen.
Tor poured himself a healthy amount of wine before filling my cup. Lifting his cup in a silent toast before he began to drink, no doubt ready to endure the meal with a belly warmed with alcohol.
Rainn, however, didn’t know the meaning of silence. “So, Shay, why did you choose to marry Ilaria? How did you two meet?”
Shay shot him a strange look, quirking a brow. “We have known each other since the cradle. Ilaria was born the summer after I was.”
Rainn nodded knowingly. “And her sister? I thought she was the prime candidate for your spouse.”
Shay rolled his eyes, but his braids shifted, coiling with irritation. “You speak of matchmaking as if it’s a game, Rainn. I’m certain your mother would have chosen a bride for you if you showed even the slightest inclination to do something for the good of your people.”
“You don’t think Maeve is a fitting mate for me?” Rainn widened his eyes innocently, but his face was carefully blank. Rainn was not quick to anger, but his anger was cold, deep as the abyss when stirred. “Besides, selkies have little control over who their coat chooses. Belisama guides us to our heart's desire.”
Vidalia smiled brightly, using a wooden fork to gather a mouthful of fish. She paused before taking a bite. “Nymphs choose the most powerful blood. The chieftain must have a bride with blood strong enough to carry his magic.”
“Water breathing?” I blurted out.
“Just so.” Vidalia tilted her head, biting her fork and chewing her food slowly. Her eyes fixed on mine. “Mac Eoin blood is of the gods. Nymphs were not born of the Aos Sí. We came to the fae lands many years ago.”
My gaze flicked to Shay—the only nymph able to breathe underwater.
I said nothing.
The older woman let out a husky laugh, sipping from her cup. “Many millennia have passed since our blood began. At one time, every nymph could live below the waves. But as time passed, and the blood thinned, we slowly lost the ability.”
