Page 43 of The Crowned Fae Queen
“And get cut by your five-inch nails?” I roll my eyes, kicking my feet until I reached the pool edge. “No, thank you.”
“Suit yourself.”
Her lips scrunch together, violet-lined eyes watching me struggle for a grip against wet stone. Beads catch and scrape loudly as I pull myself up on my belly by the small ledge my fingers find to grasp. The movement isn’t graceful.
“How do I access this deep well of magic you say that I should have?” I fling wet hair off my face. “Quickly.”
Aspasia nods, folding her hands over her shining body. Each scale ripples into a new color then ripples back to teal as she thinks. “You remind me of myself, Syren.”
“I’m not sure that has anything to do with my question.” I grip the necklace, feeling the urge to rip it off and throw it at her. I’d come here for help not to waste my time. “Do you have a solution, something, anything that could actually help me?”
The witch cocked her head. “You don’t trust people, even when you love them. You want to, you really mean to trust them, but over the years people have let you down. As they often do.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. There isn’t time for philosophy on my psychology. There just isn’t time.
“I once met a man who didn’t love me as I thought he did. He only used me.” Her purring voice became more of a whistling hiss.
“I bet I could guess who that was.” I mumble, cracking my eyes open to watch her. Water splashes around my hand as I slap the stone beside me. “I’m not here for musings on the past.”
She continues on, uncaring of my urgency. “He did not love me. You don’t use someone whom you love. And only one good thing came of it.”
I scowl as she reaches out to take my hand.
“You.”
With a shake of my head, I pull away. “Aspasia, stop. You don’t even know me.”
“Hmm, but I know what you fear. I know that the love that people could offer you motivates you to do your best for them. Whether or not you’ll admit it. You’d fight and die for your kingdom if it meant your name going down in history as their favorite martyr.”
“Can we get to the part where you tell me about my magic?”
She huffs a breath. “You need to trust the ones you love. It is the way. Fire fae and water fae come together not just in love, but in magic. Join your magic with something, someone. You feel the way the water energizes you.” She points a finger at my feet, still dangling in the never-ending depths of the spring, drawing energy into my tiring body. “Let it overtake you, and when it does, take back the control.” She closes her palms, reining in an invisible force. “Trust the magic, even if it doesn’t trust you.”
I’m a pretty controlling person. That seems doable. Trust the fucking water, let it try and drown me, then take the power back. I stand, dropping the hem of my gown against the floor.
“I can do that. I know I can. Send me back.”
“I know you can do it, too.” My heart constricts as she says the words. She smiles at me, looking me over. “I’m proud of my queen daughter who stands when others mean to knock her down. You’re strong.” Her fingers snap in a tornado of wind that dries my damp clothes and hair.
I can’t help but wonder how much she’s tested me. How much of this was to bring me here to this place in my life? The poison. The prophecy of a fire fae and a water fae coming together.
Was it all a test to bring me to a crown she wanted me to have once upon a time?
Or was it all just a mysterious water witches’ way of motherly love?
I may never know.
She waves with the limp lift of a sad smile on her lips. Air moves fiercely around me, distorting my vision until it stops, and my feet drop against the paved road. I’m not at the fountain. I’m not at the castle. But I’m near enough to make the choice.
I twist away, rocks cutting painfully against my pampered feet, and run. The castle grows more distant behind me, lit by torches and the pile. Iri would be mad, but in the end, he will understand that I’m doing what has to be done.
Only a few more paces and the fountain will be in view. I will submerge myself in its waters. I will let it overcome until I can take no more, and I overcome it.
Material stretches tight over my body, jerking me to a stop. The small extra material that drags the ground catches on something. I whip my head around, strands of hair falling over my shoulder.
Black beady eyes blink at me, the tall cap no longer on his head, revealing the patchy hairline above his forehead. Chaplain’s lips curve down unpleasantly.
“Where are you going in such a hurry, Princess?” he asks, dragging his foot along the material caught beneath his boot.
