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“But—”
“I’ll be fine.” He and the fae were staring at each other now. “Go home.”
“I can get him,” I insisted, nocking another arrow. But my chest went unbearably tight when I aimed it at the fae’s face, my real arm trembling as it pulled the bowstring taut.
“Don’t,” Odran rasped, glancing back at me once. “Don’t do that. Go home. I assure you I’ll be fine.”
I lowered my bow and reluctantly stepped back off the rock, still staring at the fae. He gazed back at me in silence, black hair plastered to his cheeks. Even dripping wet, he was unnervingly beautiful—more beautiful than Odran.
My heart was beating too fast as I turned and walked quickly away from the lake, trusting Odran when he said he’d be fine.
“No need for bitter jealousy, prince,” I heard Odran rasp just before I walked out of earshot, making me frown in confusion.
I’d never seen that fae before in my life. Why would he be jealous?
