Page 42 of Curse the Fae

Elixir isn’t a human being, nor does he deserve my empathy or respect. Yet my temper disintegrates. Just as he glowers to conceal any modicum of humor, so does this water lord glower to conceal any trace of hurt.

However, I see it plain as day. I witness it in the twitch of his eyelids and the stunned flap of his lashes. I behold it in the way he inches backward, as if struck, which causes the river to billow.

What’s more, I feel it in the guilty twist of my ribcage. To say the least, I don’t believe in the reprehensible words I’d spoken, much less endorse or tolerate them. My family would be as ashamed as I feel. They know my flaws as well as my strengths, but they’ve never seen this unforgivable side of me.

Only one other soul has.

Elixir recovers quickly, his tail swatting the water. “Lucky for you, your answer is the truth,” he mutters. “As to why I inquired whose forgiveness you seek, I was merely being…thorough.”

Do I believe that? Again, Elixir would never be interested in me otherwise.

Would he? For that to happen, this Fae would have to see me as an equal. He’d have to care about who I am. That’s something he’ll never do, nor do I want him to.

“One wonders why,” I say, humoring him. “Why the need to be thorough?”

“Perhaps I would like to know who has that power over you,” he husks. “Who can fulfill or deny you that desire?”

Promptly, I discard my guilt. As I sidle closer to him, the hard watery foundation he’d conjured balances me. “Or you hope that person is you. But I’ll spare you the disappointment: it’s not. No matter whose forgiveness I seek, it will never be yours. I don’t pine for your forgiveness because I don’t regret a single thing I did that night. I only regret I hadn’t finished you off.

“Maybe I wish for fate itself to forgive me for that. Maybe that’s my greatest desire. If you expect otherwise, you’re sorely mistaken. One might even say you’re in denial. One might call you stubborn.”

The Fae dips his head and rasps through his teeth, “That makes two of us.”

Yes, it does. If I keep lying to myself about whose forgiveness I seek, that makes me just as stubborn. If I rifle through the shards of broken glass inside me, I’ll find the truth there, waiting to be acknowledged. And it will cut deeply.

Nevertheless, I want nothing from this ruler, least of all his pardon. The notion that I should is obscene, considering what he’s doing to me, holding me hostage. I’m paying for the past enough as it is.

This Fae doesn’t want to know me. He just wants to find my limits and expose them, to slip under my skin like venom until I can’t recover, until I’m too emotionally weak to play the game, too lost to think about breaking his curse—or even wanting to.

I’ll be so focused on my own demons, I won’t have time to consider his.

How deviant. How clever.

“You’re right,” I say. “I do know whose forgiveness I seek, but I won’t tell you because I don’t have to. Like I said, you haven’t earned it. Do you want to know how things are earned? Through respect, friendship, and trust.”

“Why would I aspire to that?” the Fae defends.

“Why?” I gall. “Have you never confessed anything to anyone?” But the irate Fae just stares at me. “Because that’s how you form a bond. That’s how you connect with others. Those feelings and thoughts are sacred, and if you can share that mutually, it becomes the most profound and meaningful attachment you’ll have with someone. To be truly known by them, and for them to know you, is a gift. What’s the meaning of living if you don’t have someone to share secrets with, to share those raw experiences, to share everything?”

“Everything,” he utters, floating nearer.

“Everything,” I say, moving closer.

Our words flow like the river—seamless and clear, its bottom within reach if we plunge deeply enough.

“If you can bear yourself that way, that bond will be the most intimate, the strongest thing you’ve ever felt,” I impart. “It becomes unbreakable.”

“Unbreakable,” Elixir intones.

The rasp of his voice, combined with our proximity, tells me I’ve gotten carried away. And so has he. All the same, I don’t stop.

“What do you desire above all else?” I echo.

That I dare to mirror his question causes the water lord’s pupils to simmer. But he doesn’t hesitate to thrust his arm toward the mammals splashing nearby. “Their survival,” he replies.

The answer wraps itself around my chest and squeezes. It’s the sort of response I’d wish from any ruler of a wild realm, and it suits the nature of his kind. However, it’s not what I had anticipated. And it’s not the answer I’m searching for.

“What do you desirefor yourself?” I clarify.

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