Page 11

May

When Aldronn says he believes in me, it melts my heart.

Even my best friends were quick to assume I’d dropped out of college because I couldn’t hack it. To be fair to them, that is what I told them. I’d stormed onto Main Street after talking to Dad. Hannah bought three pints of our favorite flavors from the ice cream shop, and we sat on the velvet couches in Naomi’s bookstore and ate and talked. They let me rant against my father for as long as I needed, and then they told me of course I could do whatever I wanted with my life.

But they hadn’t really understood how hard it was to not know what I wanted to do, because they’d both picked their career paths back in high school. Sure, Naomi had taken a bit of a detour, running the family shop while completing her English degree online, but the English major was still her goal. Hannah had no such impediments and was barreling through her political science degree like an Olympic athlete going for gold.

By the time I finished complaining about Dad, I’d been too emotionally drained to try to explain what really happened, so I shoveled down my Rocky Road and let them hug and comfort me.

It hadn’t been fair to them.

It hadn’t been fair to me .

I’m glad I finally told someone the full story. I’m also amazed at how readily Aldronn believes me.

Then my stupid erratic magic had to go and ruin the moment, opening me up to him more than I meant to. Is he going to hear all my thoughts now? Argh! Who could ever want that?

Him, it seems, if his smirk is anything to go by.

A squirrel chitters overhead as we break through a couple of pines and out onto the bank of a river. Water rushes past, foaming where it hits rounded rocks that rise above the surface like miniature islands.

“Not this again,” Starfall says with disgust, coming to an abrupt halt.

“What did you expect?” Aldronn teases. “We crossed it on our way north, so of course we must cross it on the way back.”

“I repressed the memory.” She tosses her mane. “It was too painful.”

“Water hurts you?” I ask, worried for her.

“Not water.” She stomps and brandishes her horn. “ Them .”

“Come play,” high voices call out as translucent shapes rise from the water. Flowing locks of water hair pour down humanoid torsos, covering them like clothes. Ethereal faces watch us with expectant eyes, and clear arms reach water foam fingers toward us. “Come play with us!”

“People made of water!” I gasp.

“Water nymphs,” Aldronn says.

“Pests,” Starfall grumps.

“They hurt you?” I ask.

“Worse.” She stomps again. “They tickle me.”

She says it with such dripping vitriol that I laugh. The unicorn turns her head to spear me with an irritated blue eye, and I can’t help it—I laugh even harder.

Aldronn says, “Sooner done, sooner over.”

“Easy for you to say.” She tosses her head. “You’re not the one they tickle.”

“They can tickle me,” I offer. “I don’t mind it.”

“You can swim across that?” Aldronn asks.

I eye the rushing river. He’s got a point. This won’t be an easy swim in a calm pond, like the one by the waterfall back home. But I’m no quitter. If I can help Starfall with something she clearly finds distasteful, I’ll do it. “I can try.”

“No.” Aldronn’s voice rings with command.

God, I hate being told what to do. I glare over my shoulder. “You’re not the boss of me.”

“I am your king.”

“Not an orc.” I hook a thumb toward my face. “You’re not my king.”

His mouth thins into a straight line, his dark eyes snapping. “Whether you respect my authority as a royal or not, I’m still your mate and your husband, and it’s my duty to keep you safe.”

“But—”

“So I suggest a compromise,” he says, cutting off my protest.

I lift an eyebrow. “Do you even know the meaning of the word?”

He ignores my comment and says, “You can distract the water nymphs all you want, but you must do it from unicorn-back.”

I eye the fast-flowing water again. I’m stubborn, not stupid. “Okay.”

He gives a surprised grunt.

With a hand on his shoulder, I clamber up until I crouch sideways on the saddle. Then I grip his thigh and lower onto my stomach until I’m spread across his lap, my legs hanging off one side, my upper body the other.

It’s not until his hand reaches across my lower back to anchor my hip that I realize this position makes my butt stick up toward him. I grin. Mr. Bossy Pants is going to get a real eyeful. I’ve got a good butt.

I bend my knees to lift my feet high and stretch out my arms. “Ready!”

Starfall gives me one last assessing look, then starts forward.

As soon as her hooves touch the water, the cries of the water nymphs get louder.

“Over here!” I wave my hands. “I’ll play with you!”

Instead of skimming across the surface so I see them coming, they disappear from where they were and pop out of the water right in front of me, splashing my arms and face.

I startle, then laugh. “Hello!”

“Come!” The nymphs leap from the surface, their fingers tickling across the bare skin of my arms. “Come dance with us!”

“I am.” I undulate my arms, making wild patterns in the air. “I’m dancing with you!”

They jump and twirl, water spinning outward in arcs that catch the sun and make a series of miniature rainbows.

It’s beautiful and magical, and I wish Mom could see it. She’d love it so much—it’s exactly like the stories she used to tell me.

Aldronn’s grip tightens on my hips as Starfall plunges into the deepest part of the river, the water rising so high along her sides that my knees get wet. I brace my stomach muscles to lift my upper body higher to keep my face out of the water.

The nymphs no longer need to leap to reach me. They race along, keeping pace easily, their torsos vertical in the water. Foamy fingers dance over my arms, my face, my hair. “New friend,” they call out, their high voices singing like the water of a creek skipping over stones.

I can’t stop laughing and smiling, my cheeks aching.

We get close enough to the far bank that Starfall begins to climb.

The nymphs start jumping again as the water lowers, spangling the air with water-drop rainbows.

When we’re only a few yards from exiting the water, I stop dancing with my arms and stretch toward the nymphs, trying to touch as many hands as possible. “Thank you!” I cry out. “Thank you so much!”

“Come back and dance with us again!” The bravest nymph makes one last leap, fingers gliding over mine right at the edge of the shallows.

“I will!” I promise.

Starfall’s hooves strike rock as she climbs onto the bank and comes to a halt.

I squirm, trying to get out of this awkward position. Before I can make any real headway, Aldronn scoops me up onto his forearms, lifts, and rolls me until I’m in a bridal carry. My head spins—not from the motion but from how much strength it took for him to do it. I’m average sized and weigh a decent amount. No guy I’ve ever known could have moved me around like that.

It’s freaking hot.

“Thank you,” Starfall says. “That was tolerable.”

“Coming from her, it’s high praise,” Aldronn adds.

“You don’t have to thank me. That was fantastic!” My body’s still humming with joy.

When he lowers my butt to the saddle, I spread my legs to retake my seat, the dark circles of my wet knees looking like patches against the dry cloth of the rest of my jeans. My T-shirt is wet too from all the splashing.

“Are you all right to travel like this?” Aldronn’s arms remain around me, his voice a rumble in my ear. “It’s not far to where I want to make camp.”

“I’m fine.” In all my travels, I’ve gotten caught in the rain lots of times, and as long as it doesn’t get too cold, it’s never been a big deal.

Especially when I get to snuggle back into an orc who’s deliciously warm.

Starfall follows the river for a while, then cuts into the forest at a diagonal to find an easier way down when the land starts to dip. We circle back towards the river, galloping through heavy pines and another stand of the blue birch trees before emerging into a glen filled with the roar of falling water.

“Oh, a waterfall!” I blurt, excitement coursing through me. “I love waterfalls!”

“After seeing the one at your home, I thought you might,” Aldronn says.

The lowering sunlight of evening angles over the tips of the trees, turning the top of the waterfall into a sparkle of diamonds. The water plunges down a smooth rock cliff, churning the surface where it hits before spreading out into a calm, wide pool of deep blue.

Aldronn dismounts and lifts me down, my feet sinking into the thick, soft moss that covers the ground.

He removes the packs and saddle, freeing Starfall to go and crop some of the bushes that line the edge of the trees.

“I will hunt for dinner.” He takes a few steps toward the forest, then looks back at me. “There’s a dry shirt in the pack. It’s yours.”

“Thanks.”

He stalks off into the darkness of the trees, soon lost to sight.

I crouch and dig into the saddlebags, pulling out the cleaning cloth before rooting around to find the shirt, which is a lovely dark lavender. At the edge of the water, I undress and quickly wash up using the cleaning cloth. Then I pull his spare shirt over my head. The lavender linen is soft, but it fits like a tent, hanging past my knees and billowing all around me.

“Yeah, no.” I tug it off and turn it inside out. After fishing my travel sewing kit out of my jeans—a trick I learned years ago, the hard way—I dig a spare knife out of the pack and get to work.

“What are you doing?” Starfall asks.

“Taking him at his word.” I run the sharp blade over the cloth, delighted when it parts easily. “If this shirt is mine, then I’m going to make it fit like I want.”