Page 89 of The Crowned Queen

But Loren wasn’t Caela. He was heavier, stronger, and moving with far more speed than anyone had in their training drills. His feet left the stone, his momentum carrying him clean over her hip—too fast.

He hit the water with a thunderous splash, his stunned expression the last thing she saw before he vanished beneath the dark surface.

“Gods above—” Araya clapped her hands over her mouth. She held her breath, waiting for him to break the surface. Any second now, he’d pop up, sputtering and red-faced.

But the only thing that rose from the dark water was steam.

Her heart pounding, Araya stepped back up to the edge of the ledge. She peered into the water below, but the only thing she could see were Loren’s shadows. Cold dread filled her chest, stealing the last of her mirth.

How long could he hold his breath? She’d thrown him so much further than she meant to—he could have hit his head. He could be drowning⁠—

Strong hands wrapped around the backs of her thighs.

Araya barely had time to gasp before she was yanked from the ledge, plunging into deeper water. Heat and darkness swallowed her whole, bubbles tearing from her lips as she was dragged under. She twisted, her fingers scrabbling over slick stone—but Loren locked an arm around her waist, taking her with him as he kicked off.

They broke the surface together in the center of the spring.

Araya sucked in a ragged breath, then another, coughing up the water she’d swallowed in her surprise. Loren held her above the surface easily, his hands still tight on her waist like he thought she might bolt again and a wide, infuriatingly pleased grin plastered across his face.

“You—” she sputtered, drawing back just far enough to punch him in the shoulder, her fist landing with a solid thud against wet muscle.

Loren didn’t even flinch. “What?” His green eyes danced. “Is it only funny when you throw me into the water?”

“I thought I hurt you!” Araya yelled. “I thought—are you laughing at me?”

Loren tipped his head back, drifting away from her as his shoulders shook helplessly. “You threw me like a sack of grain,” he said. “I can’t believe it. You did it exactly right.”

Araya flushed all the way to the clipped tips of her ears. “I’m not helpless,” she snapped, splashing him. “I’m capable of learning things—which you’d know if you ever stopped treating me like I’ll shatter at the first wrong move.”

Loren stopped laughing. “Ael’sura⁠—”

“Don’t deny it.” Araya turned in the water before he could see the tears pooling in her eyes. She paddled for the edge of the spring, hauling herself up.

“You never want me to try anything that might be hard or dangerous,” she continued, hugging her arms around herself. “You almost never touch me unless you think I’m asleep or we need to share magic—” her voice hitched embarrassingly. “You don’t kiss me anymore.”

“I almost lost you.” Loren drifted through the water toward her, his hands finding her knees. “You nearly died in my arms⁠—”

“But I didn’t!” Araya shoved him off, scrambling to her feet. Water sluiced off her reddened skin, tears spilling freely down her cheeks now. “I survived. And I’m right here.” Her hands clenched into fists, her nails biting into her palms. “So why won’t you touch me?”

“I wasn’t sure you wanted me to,” Loren protested. “After everything they did to you—” he broke off, his gaze dropping. “You’re still healing. And your back⁠—”

Araya stiffened, reading what he didn’t say in his expression. He couldn’t even stand to look at her. Human men, fae males—they were all the same.

“So that’s the problem?” She laughed, the sound broken and ugly. “My scars?” She turned her back on him, baring the thick ridges of newly healed skin. “You have them too, Loren, and I still want you. Are they truly that repulsive?”

“What? Araya, no—” he broke off with a frustrated growl. “Goddess help me.”

Araya locked her shoulders, steeling herself to keep standing when he walked away. She’d survived so much. A broken heart would be nothing compared to everything she’d been through.

His hand tangled in her wet hair.

Araya gasped, the sharp sting of pain racing down her spine like lightning. His fingers tightened, the heat of his gaze fixed on the rapid pulse thundering at the base of her throat as he craned her neck back, back, back⁠—

“Do not ever,” Loren murmured, his lips scorching where they brushed against her shoulder, “speak about yourself like that.”

Then he kissed her.

There was nothing careful or gentle about it. No denying the heat of his body or ignoring the hardness pressed against the base of her spine. Even without their bond, his desire filled her senses—saying everything words couldn’t.