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“What progress have you made toward discovering my name?” he asked.

“None save what you gave this morning, seven letters.”

“The selkie gave you no direction?”

I did not wish to discuss what the selkie had given me, so instead, I asked, “Is the selkie a prisoner too?”

“I suppose that depends on what you consider a prisoner.”

“Anyone here against their will.”

“Then I suppose he is a prisoner.”

“What did he do to incur your wrath?”

“He lured one of my own into his trap, so I lured him into a trap, and now he lives in my pond, where he sings and seduces the vulnerable and convinces them to set him free.”

I did not speak, recalling the selkie’s words.

One day when you rule this castle, you will return me to the sea.

“Will you visit him again?” he asked, the words light and careful. I got the sense that he had to work to control his voice.

“Yes,” I said. “Tomorrow.”

A strange tension built between us, a push and pull. I think the elven prince wished to know if the selkie had succeeded in seducing me, but I remained quiet and let him seethe in his uncertainty. What care should he have over who had touched me?

I was not his.

“You are beautiful,” he said after a long moment of silence.

I was in the middle of biting into another grape when he spoke, and I froze at his words and their stiff sound. It was as if he were forcing himself to speak them.

“Excuse me?”

“I said you look beautiful.”

His brows were low, his features tense, and yet he continued to hold my gaze as he spoke.

“Why do you seem so angry about it?”

“I’m not,” he snapped. “I told you you were beautiful. Be grateful.”

“Fuck you.”

I took the goblet and tossed the contents at Casamir; the red wine dripped down his face like blood.

He stood so suddenly, the table quivered, and I flinched, pressing myself into my chair, which seemed to stun him. His eyes, which had filled with black, returned to normal.

“Who hurt you?” he asked and remained standing, fingers curled, as if he might leave the moment I answered his question.

“What do you mean?”

“There are bruises on your back. Who hurt you?” he asked again. “I need a name.”

I was quiet for a moment, uncertain of what to say. It was not that I wanted to protect Roland. It was more that I did not wish to share my life with this prince. Still, Roland had chosen me to break the curse of the well, and he had done so believing he could pose as my rescuer.

I could make this go away. Marry me.