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Maybe the symbol represents me, torn between a human prince with the promise of a normal life and a Fae King who has nothing to offer me but doubt and fear.
Though it’s not fear that plagues me whenever I think of Adar. All three times I met with him, he never hurt a hair on my head. He kissed me, true, and tried to hold onto my pendant—but that was to break a curse.
How can I blame him for trying? Wouldn’t I have done the same in his place? Granted, it’s hard to imagine being him—a Fae, a King, cursed, alone. I’ve never been alone in my life. Any time I was in trouble, any time I needed something, my family was there—parents and grandparents, numerous cousins and second cousins, uncles and aunts, plus my privileges from being a princess have ensured an easy life.
My only fear has been not finding a suitable husband, or ruining a gown before a ball. Small worries. I rarely have nightmares when I sleep.
But he’s out here all alone, trapped. And wounded. Guilt is eating at me for not coming back sooner, just to check on him.
I shift the strap of the bag I’m carrying on my shoulder as I reach the shore and call out his name.
“Adar, where are you?” Pebbles roll under the leather soles of my bottines, splashing into the water. “King Adar!”
I stop and wait, letting the bag drop to the soft ground. Last time, it took him a while to come, so I don’t expect him to show up right away.
And yet as the time passes, worry curls in my stomach, twisting it.
“Adar!” I step into the water, looking around, trying to see any sign of him. The water is placid, reflecting the stormy clouds rolling overhead. The wind that propelled me all the way here as if I were a sailboat on the ocean has dropped. The stillness feels unnatural.
Maybe it’s just my mind that feels so still. It’s as if my doubts are being stripped away the deeper I wade—into the lake, into my desire. I used my pretext but now I am here, I don’t need it anymore. I don’t need to hide. The mirror of the lake shows me how I truly feel—how my heart races at the thought of seeing Adar again, how my body tightens, how my eyes burn. Worry and joy mingle with the expectation of meeting him again.
Am I so infatuated with him?
It appears I am.
And yet when nothing happens, no ripple, no Adar, fear crashes over every other feeling, a rockslide that threatens to bury me.
“Adar! Adar, answer me! Where are you? Are you all right?” I wade in deeper, deeper than I have ever been, the freezing water lapping at my thighs, at my waist. At my chest. My hands skim over the surface. I glance around, turning. I think I see shapes swimming underwater, dark shadows. My heart is threatening to give out. “Adar!”
I think I hear shrieking laughter and panic seizes me. There’s no sign of Adar, but that laughter… I remember it from that day when Mina got sick.
Faeries.
Danger.
No. Turning toward the shore, I force my feet to move as fast as possible through the barrier of the water. Where are they? I need to reach the shore, run. I’m trapped in the watery element, my every step meeting the resistance of the lake that’s slowing me down.
And then my foot slips on a rock and I’m sinking into the cold dark. I can’t swim. Nobody ever taught me. I slam the water with my arms, my hands, kick at the bottom of the lake but it seems to have grown deeper all of a sudden, and I’m going down.
It’s as if something is dragging me into the depths, snagging my feet and pulling. Bubbles escape me as I struggle not to scream and let out what is left of my air. I try to grab at roots and rocks to stop the pull, blind in the murky water, twisting my body this way and that to escape.
It’s no use.
I’m going to die here. More bubbles leave my mouth. My chest burns. My body spasms. I’m going to die…
A flash of blue cuts through the murk in front of me. A sinuous, strong body, a long, blue tail, then up close a handsome face, blue eyes wide—and his arms come around me. His lips press against mine, parting them, letting sweet air flow into my lungs.
And then he hauls me up and up until we break the surface of the lake.
8
ADAR
Holding her against my body is the greatest pleasure I’ve felt in a long time. Making sure she’s breathing, that she’s warm and alive, is everything I need. Her head drops to my shoulder and she coughs weakly. She has red ribbons woven in her dark hair. Her neck is a pale column. Her scent envelops me.
Selina.
I wait for her lungs to expel the water, telling myself to let go of the fear.
