Page 41 of Curse the Fae

It doesn’t help that he draws closer. His formidable silhouette consumes my view, all that flesh and sinew within reach. The Fae’s black hair hangs down his torso, the mane puddling around him and brushing the water.

Tendrils of my own hair tremble over my shoulders, my soaked garment clings indecently to my breasts, and the newly familiar aromas of bergamot and black pepper flood my senses.

I should move. Truly, I should move away.

Elixir’s eyes fall half-mast as he listens to my reaction. That’s when I stiffen. He may think he has the right to my fate, but he has no right to access the inner workings of my body.

What do you desire above all else?

I had been telling the truth when I’d said freedom is what I desire. But I’d been thinking about my sisters’ survival, not my desire outside of that. Not the great desire of my whole life, of my very soul.

Maybe I’d already known this is what Elixir had meant, but I hadn’t wanted to face it. Maybe he’d sensed it in me as well, or he heard it in my voice, or I had answered too quickly, too easily. Maybe the answer hadn’t hurt me the way a different one—the right one—would.

Because what I want most of all, I’ll never have.

What do you desire above all else?

I think of a night, nine years ago: eventide soaking my village in hues of emerald and indigo, the elderberry bushes hissing, and my body diving into a stream. The suction of water. The furious kick of my limbs. A dark figure trying to flee, and my fingers snatching the back of his neck.

My hatred. My yearning to make him drown.

I remember holding my breath for longer than I ever had—while watching him lose his. I remember that one night when I’d transformed from a sweet little girl into someone vicious.

I don’t remember ever regretting what I’d done. But I do remember regretting that I’d enjoyed it. I remember regretting what he turned me into, even if just for one night.

What do you desire above all else?

“Forgiveness,” I whisper.

The word ruptures through me, from my gut, to my throat, to my lips. It falls out of my mouth like a stone, shattering the quiet. For some peculiar reason, I’m grateful that at least I’ve admitted it here, so far beneath the earth that no one—not my family, nor my people—hears my shame.

No one but a monster. Elixir’s eyes stray to the water as he absorbs my answer, his body utterly still and his serpent’s tail frozen beneath the river.

Forgiveness. That’s what I long for.

This spawns another troubling question. I feel it surfacing at the same time Elixir gives it voice.

“Whose forgiveness?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I grit out.

I’m lying. I’m doing it to him as much as to myself.

Elixir knows this. He doesn’t need to say as much, in order to scramble my thoughts further. Denial is just that strong, just that potent, like an intoxicant or a poison.

I hate him for reminding me of this, just as I hate him for a thousand other reasons. My urge to remain quiet is only eclipsed by my urge to lance him through with my tongue, if not my spear.

“Have you been living in a fathomless void for so long, you have nothing more honorable or purposeful to do than play mind games with your prisoners?” I seethe. “Has languishing in the dark taught you this?”

Elixir’s head snaps toward me. He’d been lost in thought, contemplating my reply, because it takes him a moment to respond. “The Deep is not a fathomless void. It has its purpose, which is greater than you imagine, from its dwellers to its waters.”

An awful response shoots from my mouth. “I wasn’t talking about The Deep.”

The Fae’s entire being pulls taut. His jaw hardens, and his eyes shout at me, the orbs blazing with hot gold.

It’s a horrible thing to say to someone. If I had heard one of my neighbors insult a person that way, I would have rioted against their cruelty, insensitivity, and ignorance.

My tongue prickles from the words, the harshness and wrongness of them. Never have I spoken to someone with this much vitriol. Years ago, I’d ridden myself of the capacity, purged myself of such an impulse.

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