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The beautiful young woman from the vision I had, the night Ella and I first came together as husband and wife, comes to my mind. I wonder if that is when our souls first met or was that just one of many lives we’ve enjoyed together. I feel an exhilarating flush come over me at the thought of loving Ella through various lives in various times throughout history. How did we become so fortunate? I try to imagine the original love that created such a bond—one so deep and true, so passionate, and all-consuming, that they would not be denied eternity in each other’s arms. Is there magic involved? Does this have something to do with the Fey? Does faerie blood flow through Ella’s veins and mine as well? It must, for it has explained so much already.
My skin tingles, remembering Ella under the waterfall and the ancient oak, enthralled with passion and pleasure, her eyes changing to the translucent blue that is reminiscent of gemstones held to a flame and tropical waters lit by the sun. It is the most mysterious trait she has exhibited. In truth, the idea that Ella has an ancestor that is a being of legend excites my imagination; I am awed by it.
On the last night of my journey back to Britain, my dreams are once again filled with Ella’s passionate cries of release. They play out so vividly I could swear they are real, and when I wake with the sun, my arms and bed empty, I know my day will be tainted with the foul mood of a starving man. But today, I will be on land, making my steady progression back to my wife. That knowledge alone makes the pangs less sharp.
I make one last round through my ship to thank my men and bid them farewell. It is always a bittersweet goodbye when some of our comrades are not here for the handshakes, pats on the shoulder, and well-wishes.
The hustle on the docks buzzes around us as the boat is tied off. The air is still and reeks of population as I stand at the top of the gangway looking out over the crowded pier. My heavy steps echo down the side ofOrionas I make my way to the dock, and I feel a spike in my mood, knowing I am that much closer to Ella. No sooner does my foot land on the weathered wood, I see a boy squeezing through the busy crowd, his familiar smile bright with excitement through the filth covering his face.
“Captain Stewart!” he calls enthusiastically. “What can I do for you?”
I toss him a coin, which he catches deftly in his right hand.
“Bring me my horse.”
