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“Blood ties aren’t always proof of love,” he says gravely. “Family isn’t always your ally.”
“But…”
He turns his other hand palm up and there, on the pale skin of his wrist, I see a mark. A fish and a crown. “I bear the mark of the Kings of the Opal Court. But it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Of course it matters.”
“It doesn’t, princess. I can’t break the curse. I can’t go back. There’s no use bellyaching over it.”
“I can’t break the curse.”
The bleakness of that statement, the truth of it isn’t lost on me. I look down at the bracelet with the merman charm in my hand and I think my heart might break. He’s telling me he cares but that he’s stuck here, in this form.
What am I doing? What am I going to do? I have no idea. He’s Fae. He’s cursed. He’s not the one I should be kissing.
This isn’t fair to Adar, or to Iason.
“We can’t keep doing this,” I whisper, carefully getting off him, standing up. Sprawled underneath me, he looks like a dream picture, muscles sculpted and strong, a face so beautiful it would make the muses weep.
“Selina…”
“I want us to be friends. I want to come and sit with you, talk to you. Can we do that?”
He closes his eyes. Then he nods. “You know where to find me.”
“You’ll come if I call?”
He lets out a long breath. Then he twists away and throws himself toward the water, hauling himself down the bank with his powerful arms, his long glittering tail dragging in the mud and pebbles.
“Adar! Will you come?”
“Always,” he says and dives into the lake.
The palace is buzzing with the news of the upcoming marriage proposal. I still think that it’s too big a fuss for a proposal. Isn’t that a private matter, something a man would do out in the gardens with no one around, going down on one knee among the flowers, offering me a ring and his heart?
Maybe Lily is right. Maybe Idoread too many fairytales.
And the ways of a palace and a kingdom aren’t always correctly reflected in such tales. Tales simplify the tedious to throw you right into the juicy heart of the matter. The matter of the heart. The matter of love.
All this feels too much like a theater play. Like a charade.
What do you want, Selina? Because you might hurt people if you don’t know what you want and go along with this charade anyway.
“This gown will be perfect,” my mother gushes as the tailor adjusts the bell sleeves of the light green gown I—and by that, I mean Lily—have chosen for the occasion. “It brings out your complexion. Don’t forget to wear his tokens.”
“Or what, he won’t propose?”
“Selina! Behave yourself for once. You’re not a child anymore.”
“No, I am a woman about to hear a proposal I’m not sure I want to accept.”
“Selina! What are you talking about? I thought you were interested in Prince Iason.”
“I was.”
“Then what happened? Your father and I have agreed that it is a good match. He ticks off every box on the list, and not to forget, he’s young and handsome. His family is lovely. What more do you want?”
“Nothim. Mother…” I turn around on my stool. “I can’t say yes to him.”
