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“You know it is important, you terrible thing!” he shrieked, spittle flying from his mouth. He managed to rise to his hands and knees.
“You are right,” I said. “You cannot return to your true form without it, can you? What a shame it would be if it was cut to ribbons.”
“What do you want, terrible thing? I will give you anything!”
It was the promise I sought, but before I could speak, something hit my cheek. The impact felt like a sting. I pressed my palm to my face and drew it away to find blood. My eyes shifted to find something floating before me—a small creature with wings, a sprite.
It was dressed in the petals of a pink rose that was spattered with my blood.
The sprite charged at my face, and I swatted at it, but suddenly there was a great swarm of them, and all I could do was cover my face as they cut and kicked and bit.
I stumbled back and fell into the pond with the sealskin still clutched in my hand, unwilling to let it go even as someone attempted to yank it away.
The jerk brought me to the surface of the water, where I came face-to-face with the selkie again.
“Whatever you want,” he repeated, another promise. “Just give it back.”
“If you are lying to me, I will stalk you for the rest of your life. You will never bask in the sun. You will never step on land without fearing me. I will hunt you until I flay you alive and burn this skin before your eyes. Do you understand?”
The selkie glared at me for a moment, and then his lips spread into a wide grin.
“I like you,” he said. “I give you my word, terrible creature. I will give you your greatest desire.”
I released his skin, and he hugged it to his body. I instantly regretted letting my one weapon go, but he did not slither away into his swamp like I had expected.
“Clean your ears, terrible thing,” he said. “And tell me what you desire.”
I watched him, mistrusting.
“Do you doubt my word, thing?” he asked, irritation flaring in his eyes.
I held my nose as I dropped below the murky water, twisting my finger into my ears to dislodge the mud. I resurfaced as quickly as I could, thinking that the selkie would flee, but once again, he proved true to his word and remained where he was in the water.
“There now,” he said. “All better?”
“I need your prince’s true name,” I said.
“He is not my prince,” said the selkie. “And that is not your greatest desire.”
“You said you would give me what I desire,” I said. “I desire to know the prince’s true name.”
“I said I would give you your greatest desire,” he said. “There is a difference.”
We stared at each other. I wanted to accuse the selkie of lying, but I realized this was my error. I had not been careful enough in the wording of our bargain. Did the selkie know what I truly desired, or could he merely sense that I was lying? Terror filled me as I realized I had unintentionally given him power over me.
“What do you call the prince?” I asked.
“We call him many names,” he said. “The Thorn Prince, Prince of Thorns, Dreadful King, Shadow King. Some call him by his mortal name, Casamir, but those who do are very few.”
“Why few?”
He shrugged. “A name precedes you, and without one, you are nothing.”
“Then why go by a name that is not his own?”
“All fae go by names that are not theirs,” he said. “True names are for lovers. True names are for death.”
“Why only lovers and death?”
