Page 32
He arches a brow but doesn’t argue with me as he rummages around in his pack, withdrawing a jar of mixed berries. “What are you planning on doing with all of this?”
“It’s a gift for the selkies who live in this pool,” I say slowly. “A cairn for peace between us, some bluebells for gratitude in letting us use their waters, and berries for sweetness because I don’t want any enemies in your kingdom for simply enjoying its beauty.”
I spread a fistful of berries along the ground with the bluebells and wipe the red and purple juice staining my hands on the edge of my shirt.
“There.” I gesture to the offering. “A token of my gratitude. Time to swim.”
Riven dismounts from his horse and loosely ties the reins around a tree’s trunk, close enough for Cinder to drink from the stream trickling out of the pool.
I tug my top up and over my head, dropping it onto the rest of my clothes.
When he turns back to face me, I’m standing there in only my underthings. I’m mid-way through unclasping my bralette when he clears his throat.
“Maybe you should leave that on.”
“Is my non-fae body that difficult to look at?” I tease.
The lump in his throat bobs. “Something like that.”
I freeze for a heartbeat, thrown by the unexpected weight in his tone, then turn away before he can see the heat rushing to my cheeks. His preference doesn’t matter. I’ve always known I was easy on the eyes—a pretty female in my own strange way, especially when my scar is hidden beneath a ribbon.
No male has ever asked me to stay clothed. It’s always the opposite—begging to see me bare, theirs for the taking.
For Riven to be so repulsed by me… it pricks my ego like a thorn drawing forth unfamiliar feelings and questions around my looks and perception of my beauty.
I dive into the water.
It’s cooler beneath the surface, but still warm.
When I break through the glassy sheen of the pool’s surface and take a deep breath, I find Riven lingering on the shore.
I flick water at him. “Are you just going to stand there like some kind of lecher?”
“Yes—I mean no.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to swim.”
I flick water at him again. “Liar.”
He sighs as he unlaces his boots and breeches. I’m wading in the water, watching with rapt attention, as he strips down to only his undershorts. I hate the barely audible gasp that slips through my lips at the sight of his lean, muscular torso and the ink staining his chest and abdominals, wrapping around to his back and shoulder blades and down to his thighs.
While his ink-stained body has plenty of markings to look at—including a compass and sun, a wave and moon, a snake and dagger—my attention fixes on the mark directly above his heart.
Nightshade growing around a tree with long dark roots writhing like snakes down his sternum.
Our matching bargain’s mark.
It looks far better on him than it does on me.
He wades into the water and prowls toward the deeper area where I tread.
“You truly believe your token of appreciation will bring mercy upon us,” he says, a hint of playfulness in his tone. “I don’t think you’ll survive in these lands, little witch. You’re far too trusting.”
“Is that such a bad thing?” I ask, scooping up a handful of crystal-clear water and letting it slip through my fingers. “To trust people’s word?”
“It could put you in dangerous situations.”
“Dangerous situations,” I repeat mockingly. “That means nothing coming from the male who wandered deep into the forest with a witch, knowing she’s aware of your weakened state.”
He tips his head back and laughs. Water drips down the column of his neck, and I question my own sanity when I have the smallest urge to lick the beads clean off. I look away from him before I act on that stupid impulse and further embarrass myself.
