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“Yes.” He’s quiet as he finishes the pie and although he looks like he could eat all the food I brought, he doesn’t touch anything else. “You should go back to your palace, princess.”
I sigh. His guard is back up, all prickly, but can I ask for more after all he’s told me today? How can I press him when he’s already tearing his walls down, stone by stone? It’s not easy. It can’t be. He needs space and time to accept that he’s made himself vulnerable with me—and that it’s okay. That I won’t take advantage, won’t use the information, won’t betray him.
And he’s right, I should go back.
Though I don’t want to go. The time I spend with him is the best time. It’s unlike anything else in my life. With him I feel free, I feel happy, I feel wanted, I feel accepted when he knows less about me than I know about him. How is that fair?
“What about the shape of the pastries, Selina?” my mother asks.
“I’m sorry?”
“I think they should be shaped like pomegranates to symbolize a happy and fertile marriage,” she explains in all seriousness, “but I heard say that it has become fashionable to use the shape of a fish for engagements, to symbolize change.”
“A fish.” I blink at her and think of Adar.
Of course, I always think of Adar these days.
What is she even talking about? Who cares what shape the pastries will be? And the decorations, the drinks, the cakes. Not to mention my appearance, what I will wear and how I will decorate my hair.
You’d think we’re planning my wedding, not a proposal to be engaged. It’s ridiculous. It’s mind-numbing and maybe if I really wanted this, I’d be happy to spend my time thinking of decorations and hairdos, but… I don’t. Not with Iason.
I know that for a fact because the moment I replace him in my mind with Adar, I feel giddy and can’t wait to sit and plan and enjoy every moment.
Which is bad. Adar is not the one about to propose to me. I’m not going to marry Adar. I can’t even save him.
And it’s breaking me apart.
Which is why it takes me two days to return to the lakeshore. I’m tired of the war being waged inside of me. I shouldn’t be here, but being away from him is a wound that festers. I call out his name and wait, my chest too tight, and I can’t loosen my breath until I see him.
He has a harder time dragging himself up on the bank this time and my worry turns to lead in my stomach.
“Adar…”
“Are you all right?” he snaps, reaching for me. “Did anyone attack you?”
“No. I’m okay.” I sit down and take his hand, yelping when he hauls me against him. He only holds me close to his bare chest, though—his bare, wet, cold chest, but I don’t care. Relief floods me at his touch and I close my eyes as he wraps his arms around me. “I’m okay.”
“Thank all the Gods. The Lesser Faeries were causing mischief today in the woods—I thought I heard a group of humans shrieking—I thought it might be you…”
“Were you scared for me?” I breathe.
“Yes.”
Just that, a simple word, though his voice is strained and his heart is beating wildly under my ear.
“Something is wrong, though,” he says after a pause. “I could see it on your face when I surfaced. Tell me. How can I help?”
“I don’t know if you can.”
“Try me.”
It makes me smile, even as I know it’s no use. “I don’t want…” I swallow hard, my voice thick. “I don’t want to marry prince Iason.”
Adar pulls back, a scowl on his handsome face. “Has he done anything to hurt you?”
“No.” I shake my head.
“You swear to me that he hasn’t?”
