Page 50 of Curse the Fae

“And then you repaid me in kind, so the favor has reverted to my side. I would rather choose my repayment before you seize the opportunity from my grasp.”

Because he knows that if I did, I would likely request something more significant than a bath, even if it’s a bath fit for a mermaid. “Faeries have a complicated way of saying thank you. You go to a lot of trouble avoiding two simple words. At this rate, we could be expressing our gratitude to another for eternity.”

Elixir curls his nose in distaste. Prior to this, he’d said a Fae can only confiscate an object from someone one time; therefore, he can’t take the spear from me again. Nevertheless, I clutch my weapon. That rule might apply to him, but the spear remains fair game to his subjects.

“They will not try,” he says, evidently reading my mind. “To take what their ruler no longer can would undermine me.”

“You could order them to do it.”

“Issuing that command would still constitute me taking the weapon, for the very act of orchestrating it would be my doing,” he grumbles. “I would not rejoice about this, if I were you.”

I unpack his meaning. After eons of discord between our cultures, my actions on Elixir’s behalf might be enough to stump the Folk, but not enough to sway them into benevolence. And while the spear may be set in iron, it doesn’t guarantee full protection in The Deep. There are other ways these Faeries or the environment and its fauna can assault me, perils I haven’t yet begun to discover.

Another vital consequence surges the forefront. “Have I made things worse?”

Elixir should need more information, yet he doesn’t. “The battle was a natural event in the reptiles’ territory,” he counters. “It was a scrimmage for food and part of the lifecycle between prey and predators. It was not the same premeditated slaughter as The Trapping. In that sense, you have not contributed to the land fading by defending yourself.”

The Grotto That Whispers had indicated as much. Regardless, I’d needed the confirmation.

I marvel that Elixir had admitted to his peers how I’d bested one of their sacred predators to help their leader, after I’d retrieved my weapon right from under his nose. He’d confessed this without shame or umbrage. “You told them what I did, just like that?”

The Fae waves in dismissal. “I hide nothing from my kin—or from anyone.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe that, coming from someone who’s scarcely a conversationalist and unlikely to prattle about himself.”

“Being quiet does not mean being secretive.”

“Then tell me your most embarrassing moment,” I quip.

He narrows his eyes, then relaxes them after realizing it was a jest. The quip had leapt off my tongue from nowhere. It had been a reflex, like many actions I’ve taken toward him.

The cascades plash and throw mist into the air. We pause, awkwardness settling in. I think if we hadn’t recently combatted a battalion of reptiles, we might actually chuckle. Or at least, I would chuckle, and this taciturn Fae would scowl to conceal his amusement.

So, there. Elixir does have things to hide, namely any semblance of a grin or humor. And how I want desperately to laugh at something—at anything.

The welts on my body cause me to wince. “Are you here because you forgot to say goodbye?” I ask through the discomfort. “That was rather impolite of you earlier.”

“I’m here for my own sake, not yours,” he says, disgruntled.

If I grin, will he detect it? I stifle the impulse, just in case. “Yes, far be it from me to think you’d come here realizing the merfolk wouldn’t take kindly to their latest mortal prisoner infringing on their turf, and you got worried they would eat me.”

“They knew to expect you. I sent word in advance.”

“Through the river?”

He clips his head in the affirmative. “They were not going to eat you. They only wanted to scare you. If they had intended to nibble on your toes, they would have done so before you drew breath.”

Shivers rack my limbs. His eyes glitter, sensing what the comment does to me. Though, the glint in his irises makes me wonder if he’s being serious or, in a macabre way, teasing me.

Even with the spear in hand, I cross my arms. “You’re mean.”

No, this doesn’t warrant saying. And yes, he takes it as a compliment.

“I am,” Elixir boasts. “And you’re disheveled.”

He gestures to the enclave blossoming with blue-green-gold tints. My cheeks detonate as colorful vapors from the waterfalls spritz my nape. Blind or not, does he mean to stay while I bathe?

Elixir turns—and whips off the robe with backward flaps of his arms.

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