Page 108 of Curse the Fae

“Tell me, Cove,” he mumbles. “Am I a monster?”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. He’s done vile things to my people, and if we don’t find another way, he’ll continue to do them after my game. I’m his exception, but that doesn’t make it right.

By no means is this an epiphany for me. Nevertheless, it’s there.

This Fae ruler doesn’t care if the world deems him a monster. But he does care how I see him.

He would tear my world apart for his kin. But he would make sure I’m the only mortal left standing.

He won’t protect my world. But he will protect me.

Is that enough? Does this absolve him?

I’ve taken too long to respond, too long to decide, to make my choice. His outline stretches across the ground, the shadow catching my attention like a net since it’s easier than looking at him. It’s easier to watch that silhouette reinforce itself, steel itself. It’s easier to watch that figure storm away. It’s easier to hear him wrench on the doorknob, throw open the door, and slam it shut. It’s easier to hear the water splash as he dives in. It’s easier to hear him rage than to see him in pain.

It’s easier to let him walk away.

Several seconds pass before I muster the will to glance at his discarded clothes. Only now do I recall his initial response. He’d wondered the same thing: If I’d known, why hadn’tIsaid something?

Because I had hoped he would speak up first, hoped I wouldn’t have to announce it myself. I’d wanted him to trust me that much.

I scoop the pants and robe off the ground, and press the garments to my nose, inhaling the scent of bergamot and black pepper. My face burns, and my heart burns, and everything burns. I never knew it could be this beautiful, nor this imperfect. It’s how I feel for Papa, Lark, and Juniper—for our home, our sanctuary, and our animals.

Only it’s different, the emotion. It’s his mouth on mine, his body inside mine, his shouts to my whispers, his rage to my calm.

He sees what others can’t, but no one sees him. No one but me.

He’s a monster, but that’s not all. He’s evil, but that’s not all.

I felt hatred once, but not anymore. Now I feel…

The clothes fall from my hands. “Elixir,” I say, then sprint out the door, because it’s only been seconds, and maybe I can catch him before he reaches the hidden tunnel. I spill into the isle grounds and dash across the grass. “Elixir!” I call into the void.

But he’s gone.

I stall in place, then buckle onto the ground and dump my face in my hands. My bones shake, but my eyes remain blessedly dry.

A slender cord glides over my foot. I blink at Lotus, who nestles against my calf and lets me stroke his head.

We stay there for what must be hours. Me, still naked and keeping company with a viper of my world. Never have I looked more like I belong in this realm, though I never will, and I never should. Eventually the crickets chirp, toads belch with unsavory noise, and somewhere beyond, the Fae awaken.

I offer my arm for Lotus to coil around. As I move to stand, a flash of white ripples across the lake. A closer look brings the object into stark relief—a paper boat sails across the surface toward me, the tiny makeshift vessel perfectly folded and perfectly dry.

That’s impossible. Though, didn’t Juniper once drill into me and Lark a Fable about the Solitary waters? How they always convey messages in whichever way they’re sent?

The boat cruises in my direction. Sometimes, my sisters and I would enjoy paper boat races in the creek. The loser had to buy the other two trinkets from the star peddler’s coach.

I tilt my head. The boat’s shape, and the way it’s assembled into neat corners, reminds me of only one person.

My pulse beats a wild tempo. On a gasp, I reach out and snatch the boat from the current, my hands trembling as I unfold the paper to reveal the tidy handwriting, achingly familiar to me.

“Juniper,” I whisper. “Lotus, it’s from Juniper.”

And from Lark. Beneath the missive, their combined signatures loop across the vellum. My palm shoots to my mouth, tears pricking behind my eyelids. This must mean Juniper won her game, too. They’re alive, they’re together, and they’ve sent me a message.

My free hand settles on my chest. I’m shaking so terribly, it’s hard to read the note at first.

Two victorious, one left to triumph. The wind is a force, the tree rises high, and the water runs forever—just like us.

---