Page 72 of Curse the Fae

If curses are possible, so are blessings.

Because we had agreed never to touch each other again, Elixir doesn’t return. I imagine the water lord burying himself in pressing matters, including the river’s demise. Yet I frequently catch myself glancing at the door, waiting, hoping.

But what do I expect? We had acknowledged our mistake, so I’d be a nitwit to assume things have changed. He has this world to preserve, the fauna and his kin to save. I have my own life and the survival of my sisters to think about.

As time passes, I keep my wits about me, keep the spear in grabbing distance, lest a certain resentful merman called Scorpio make an appearance in this chamber. Despite Coral’s assurance that the merman won’t disobey Elixir’s command to stay away from me, Scorpio has already been punished three times because of me. Revenge is a powerful motive. Centuries of strife between humans and Faeries have proven that.

Finally, I’m ready to continue my exploration of The Deep. Yet when I tie the hem of my dress around my upper thighs, grip the spear, and prepare to dive into the water, bubbles well to the surface and spit out a boat. I stall at the ledge. Fluid rustles from where the slender vessel materializes. It’s one of the boats I’ve seen at The Twisted Canals, though this one is less conspicuous. It has a prow but no lantern or rower.

The transport shaves through the water and halts at the bank.

The water and I share a bond. I entreat the river, and it replies of its own will.

I take a guess. Unlike the other bodies of water, this one has an embedded history. And because the lake will mimic its sinking descent forever, Elixir can’t ask this water to cease its pull or keep me afloat. Nor can he command its stepping-stones to rise for a human.

But he can send a boat.

My heart winces. For a second, I consider refusing his offer. Lark and Juniper would, one out of defiance, the other out of pride. Now I love my sisters. I love them more than anything in this world, and I respect their choices. But for my part, there’s a fine line between defiance, pride, and folly. I’m not so bullheaded as to refuse help.

I step into the boat, hunker into its peapod shape, and flatten myself along its base. Best to keep out of sight, secluded isle or not. Quietly, the boat ferries me across the lake, yet instead of mooring on the other side, it turns and keeps going.

I blink. “Wait. What—”

The transport drifts toward a gully camouflaged into the cave wall, which leads to a tunnel. All this time, this was here? Hidden in plain sight?

At the entrance, the current stills. My boat tarries beneath the rocky archway.

I hesitate. Presumably, this vessel’s mission is to bring me somewhere.

Or to someone.

The boat remains anchored, awaiting my decision. If I want to, I suspect the vessel will veer around and take me where I’d originally intended to go.

Make your choice.

How many times have I told myself I won’t, can’t, shouldn’t? How many times have I listened?

If I turn back now, I’ll be left wondering.

Ignoring the tiny thrill that eddies through me, I whisper, “Okay.”

The boat jolts into motion and skates past the archway. Once tucked inside the passage with its teal-spangled ceiling, I sit upright and untether the skirt of my dress, the fabric dyed the color of a medallion and cinched with a plaited belt.

Balmy air brushes my shoulders, and mellow water licks the sides of the boat. My carrier glides down several forks encrusted in topaz foliage, then tumbles down a slide that sprays my face. I surge downward and land at the bottom while nervous chuckles lurch off my tongue.

“You enjoyed that,” a voice says.

I swing toward that rasping baritone. While the boat slows to a halt beside a raised landing, a figure materializes from the shadows. First his riveted eyes, then his glistening scales, then rest of him.

Leggings as black as nightfall mold to his limbs. Instead of his hooded robe, a paper-thin tunic billows across his chest, with the sleeves loosely rolled up his forearms and the crisp, white material stark against his olive skin.

I’ve been naked with this otherworldly specimen. I’ve tasted his tongue and felt the relentless pace of his hips. He’s been inside me, thrusting so deep and dark.

To my dismay, those gilded eyes shimmer. My flesh detonates with heat. If my body doesn’t shut up, it will continue hurling signals in his direction, and then I’ll never have the upper hand, curse or no curse.

Elixir’s right. I did enjoy the slide, but it takes a minute to remember how my laughter had rung loud and clear as a bell through this channel. My pleasure must have been lucid in his ears.

I swat errant strands of hair from my face. “It’s hard not to enjoy a boat that rows itself, plus a waterslide in the dark. Things like that don’t exist in my village, only in stories. But you already knew that, and…” I trail off. “It doesn’t matter.”

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