Page 17 of Curse the Fae

I don’t care a fig about Elixir’s precious time or causing him offense. Nevertheless, it isn’t in my favor to vex him further, however much I relish the thought.

“Waiting,” the water echoes, the words lifting visibly to the surface and floating audibly through the air. “Elixir waits for no one. If you had kept him even close to waiting—”

“I would have come and snatched you,” a masculine voice says.

I swerve from the ripples to the hooded figure looming in the doorway. Or rather, no. The lord of the water Fae isn’t looming.

He’s striding toward me.

7

I tense. The sandal straps constrict around my ankles, and my hand twitches toward my hip, searching inherently for a spear that isn’t there.

The river ruler—Elixir—approaches without pause to consider where I’m standing. Even in the most cramped of environments, he somehow knows where to find me. A shaft of light from one of the ceiling globes splatters his chest with teal, marking a target straight to his evil heart. If I had my weapon, I might be tempted to run him through.

Like a reaper’s garb, his robe slumps open, and his leggings cling to his thighs and calves. The mantle’s wide hood flops around Elixir’s face and conceals expression, so that only his irises are visible. They pierce through, incinerating everything in their path like a pair of suns.

He glances toward the rippling water, then swats his gaze my way. “Follow me.”

He pivots and stalks from the grotto. I trail after the Fae who surges in and out of the shadows, his robe buffeting his limbs. Lanterns crackle and paint the ground in orange. Elixir navigates the network of tunnels while holding out his fingers, extending them to the side and letting them glide along the walls.

After a while, my eyes flicker to the adjacent passages. Shouldn’t we have located the steps by now? It hadn’t taken this long to worm through here with the beautiful guard.

I clear my throat. “Excuse me. Hello? Hey? Hey, ruler? I beg your pardon, but um, the stairs weren’t this far from the grotto. I’m sure you know where you’re going, but it’s never a wise idea to travel while in a foul mood. It prevents one from concentrating rightly on their destination.”

We’ve done this before, so it’s no surprise when he doesn’t answer. But at least my captor’s not dragging me with him this time. I grasp my caftan and trot to catch up. And despite my long limbs, I now have a greater appreciation of what Juniper must go through with her petite height.

I watch as Elixir’s digits continue to graze the walls. “What are you doing?” I ask. “Is that how you find your way around? I mean, is that how you navigate The Deep when you’re out of the water and in humanlike form? Or not inhumanlike form but, well, when you don’t have a tail?”

Nervousness gets the worst of my tongue, in addition to annoyance. “I’ve heard of a visually impaired cobra that can find its way through rapids by using its tail,” I ramble. “Though, I’ve never actually seen it. I suppose you haven’t, either, since it’s a mortal reptile. We have lots of those. In fact—”

Elixir swings around so fast that I stumble into him. My nose bumps his chin, my breasts knocks into the plate of his chest, and my eyes stagger across his face. “Do you,” he grates, “everhold your fucking tongue?”

“Why?” Then a wonderful thought lurches into my mind. “Does it bother you?”

He tilts his head, not missing the enthusiasm in my tone. Our closeness brings his face into stark relief, with its scales and exquisitely harsh lines. He looms before me like a ship—a reinforced vessel with the ability to rip through monsoons.

His glare is quite reinvigorating, sparking the daring in me. I’ve beheld this phenomenon in other people, where they find themselves defying sense and reason, then doing things they never expected. I’ve been that person once before, with this very same creature.

“Does it bother me?” the Fae reflects. “Would you like to find out?”

I brace myself. “I do hold my tongue. Just not tonight.”

And not for him.

He glowers, his reply coming out low and shuddering. “Provocation from a mortal.”

“Has that never happened before?”

“I have never given them enough time, once they lost their games.”

Horror seizes me by the throat. “Do you feel no remorse?” I spit. “No shame?”

Elixir’s eyes slit, the sight reminiscent of basilisks. “What use are those emotions?”

“They teach us humility and compassion. They redeem us, inspire us to be better and care for others.”

“Mortal inclinations.”

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