Page 75 of Curse the Fae

I heard it in their voices, strained as taut as ropes. Rather than guilt, I heard passion. Or maybe it was obsession.

They adored me. But they adored the ocean more, as though salt flowed through their veins.

They weren’t coming back.

Even if they’d wanted to, they wouldn’t have had the chance. Their vessel got caught in a storm, never to be heard of again.

“Sometimes I wonder if my love for water is genuine,” I confess, my throat clotting with unshed tears. “Or if I’m trying to connect with them, trying to prove what they didn’t believe in the first place—that I could bond with the sea the way they did. Maybe I’m trying to prove myself worthy. Or maybe it’s because the water’s all I have left of them. Maybe it’s because it’s the last place they took a breath. Or maybe I’m trying to convince myself they’re alive, that someday I’ll be able to save them, wherever they are.” I shake my head and tuck a lock of teal behind my ear. “Or maybe I love the water for myself.”

Although Elixir is quiet, I feel him absorbing my words.

News of the ship’s sinking had reached my ears in the worst way possible. Because my parents had owed payment on their vessel, the grizzly man who’d sold the ship to them arrived, intent on delivering the tidings and collecting compensation: me.

He had planned on selling me to a brothel in The Northern Frosts, but his carriage had barely gone a mile when I’d swiped a dagger from his belt and stabbed his palm, then threw myself out of the vehicle. My sleight of hand been a moment of luck, but I’d wondered if I could teach myself to get better at it and, therefore, protect myself.

I developed that skill quickly, purely out of necessity. With nowhere to go, I became a pickpocket who wandered the countryside from village to village. The knack provided me with coin for food—until the day I wandered into Reverie Hollow and got caught. My hand had barely reached into a random pocket when a set of dark-skinned fingers snatched mine.

The man had a friendly face, a soothing voice, and he didn’t drag me to a jailer. Instead, he became my father.

By then, Papa Thorne had already adopted two orphaned girls. One of them wanted to make me laugh by using naughty phrases, while the other had frowned at me, her expression and posture as rigid as a tree.

“They became my sisters,” I say with a smile.

Elixir’s expression had been murderous, his eyes fuming and his fists clenched, while hearing about the man who’d tried to sell me. However, while hearing the tale of my new family, the muscles in his face slacken. The Fae hesitates, his eyes tripping across the vista. During the tale, not once has he looked at me, yet I sense him wanting to.

I tell him about Lark and Juniper, about their quirks and personalities. I describe the jewelry we gave each other—Lark’s thigh cuff, Juniper’s leaf bracelet, and my waterdrop pendant, though Elixir already knows about my necklace.

Only when I talk about my family’s animal refuge, The Fable Dusk Sanctuary, does the ruler’s head whip toward mine again. “You rescue fauna.”

I relish how his eyes flash with amazement. “Lotus was one of my rescues. Trade poachers were after him.”

Recognizing the term, Elixir’s face tightens with malice. I forge ahead, describing the sanctuary and gloating at his features, which range from awed to respectful.

Finally, the rapids stop, and the water calms.

“So, I lost my parents, and I found a new family.” I glimpse his pensive countenance. “Then you happened.” I watch the teal specks brush his profile in lightness and darkness. “Do you remember?”

“I do.” Elixir swerves my way, his eyes sparking with all that gold. “I remember everything.”

Yes. So do I…

21

Nine years ago

In the field at night, I wade through a brook that cuts into the underbrush. My bare feet splash through the water as I scurry across the plains. Alders and elderberry bushes shiver in the breeze and emit a soft, hushing noise. I tell myself it’s okay, everything will be okay, not to worry, never fear.

But it’s not okay. Nothing is okay. Worry crawls through my stomach, and I’m scared.

While grasping the muck-stained hem of my cloak and nightgown, I race through the icy water, which chills me to the ankles. Juniper had been right. We should have worn our boots. Whereas I had been right to whimper about us losing each other.

We’re not allowed to be out this late. It was supposed to be a quick and safe game of hide-and-seek. That’s all.

A serpent mask covers the upper half of my face, the visor falling lopsided as I dash over several rocks. Every few leagues, I stop and whisper-cry, “Lark? Juniper?”

There’s no answer but for the quiver of stalks and the gurgle of water beneath my feet. My sisters could be anywhere. They could be lost, hurt, or kidnapped.

A sob bubbles from my lips. It’s perilous to be out after dark, and the countryside is dreadfully silent. I had sniffled about this, but Lark had promised nothing would happen, had sworn it would be fun. I must remember what she and Juniper had also said, what the villagers always say: Faeries don’t harm children.

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