Page 5

He paused, a subtle shift crossing his features as his eyes narrowed slightly.

Before I could ask, he dipped beneath the surface in a single fluid motion.

The suddenness left me breathless. His dark form moved down through the clear pool toward the deep floor, reaching depths I had never attempted. Panic flickered at the edges of my mind, and after a brief beat, I filled my lungs and dove after him.

The warm water closed over my ears. Below, filtered sunlight cut through the blue in pale rays, catching the drifting cherry blossom petals that cast tiny shadows across our skin. Drystan had reached the bottom and turned, rising slowly as I descended toward him.

We suspended weightlessly beside each other beneath the surface.

He held out his right hand, his fingers curled into a loose fist, then opened them.

Resting in his palm was my pendant, the simple silver disc on its broken chain. It was the only token my mother had left me, the piece of metal I reached for whenever my life shifted. In the distraction of the climb and the dive, I had not felt it slip away.

Relief crashed over me, swiftly followed by a wave of sharp heat in my chest as I realized he had gone into the depths to retrieve it.

I reached for him before I touched the silver.

Drystan drew me closer beneath the water, his arms wrapping around me as the pendant settled between our joined palms. My chest pressed against his, one of my legs brushing his thigh as the slow current held us weightless. The space between us dissolved entirely.

A ray of light broke through the surface above, striking his eyes and turning them to liquid gold. In his iris, I saw my own reflection, pale and silver-haired, anchored tightly against him.

With a single kick of his legs, he carried us both upward.

We broke the surface together, taking in fresh air as the water fell away. Drystan kept one arm secured around my waist while his other hand held the pendant, the broken silver chain dangling from his fingers.

He turned me gently in the water until my back was pressed against his chest. The steady rhythm of his breathing stirred the damp hair at my temple as he brought the pendant over my head, resting the silver disc precisely in the hollow between my collarbones.

His fingers worked at the small clasp. The catch was old and worn, a small mechanism I had meant to take to the village smith for years.

Now, I was glad I had not.

The women of my line had passed this pendant from mother to daughter for generations. No man had ever fastened it for them, the chain always repaired by village hands, the metal touched only by kin. Letting Drystan hold the silver against my skin should have felt like a break from tradition, yet it felt like the opposite. It felt like an arrival.

His fingers moved with deliberate care, refusing to rush the fragile link. The clasp caught with a quiet click.

His hands remained at my neck. His thumbs traced the line of the chain along my skin, smoothing the links before resting at the nape of my neck beneath my wet hair.

He bent his head, his lips finding the curve where my shoulder met my neck. The kiss was brief and soft, a warm press of mouth against skin that sent a tremor straight down my spine.

He guided us toward the bank, his arm resting securely across my waist while his other hand kept light pressure on the pendant against my chest. With short, powerful kicks, he propelled us through the quiet water until our feet touched the soft mud near the shore.

* * *

We stepped out onto the sun-warmed grass.

Water trickled from his shoulders in long, gleaming rivulets as he turned to offer his hand. I took it, and as he drew me upward, the sudden shift in balance brought me flush against him. The heat of his skin burned through the cool moisture before I stabilized myself and stepped back a fraction of an inch.

The wet linen shift clung cold against my thighs, heavy and restrictive.

I met his gaze, reaching out to touch the wet knot at his hip. The cord resisted briefly before yielding under my fingers. His breath hitched in his throat, the sound raw in the quiet clearing.

I kept my eyes on his face, refusing to look down as I loosened the fabric and let it fall to the grass.

Drystan stood still beneath my gaze, his chest rising and falling as he let me see him without defence. The strength of his body, fully revealed in the bright sunlight, was breathtaking.

He reached for me, his hands finding the damp straps of my shift. His fingers moved with slow reverence, easing the linen down over my shoulders and past my arms. The wet fabric peeled away, his fingertips brushing my ribs and the curve of my hips as he guided the garment down.

Every point of contact ignited a quiet static across my skin.