Page 16 of Must Love Moss and Moonshine (Moonshine Hollow)
KELLEN
D espite my hope that Sylvie’s memory would return immediately, it didn’t. Instead, she showed me a treasure she’d found at the bottom of the pool—a glimmering green gemstone.
“It’s a forest quartz,” she said, her voice tinged with wonder. She laughed lightly and added, “I’m not sure exactly how I know that, but it is very rare.”
She held the quartz up, its colors shifting like a living thing in the moonlight. Then, she turned it toward me, her expression softening. “But it wasn’t its rarity that caught my attention,” she murmured, her voice dropping. “It’s the color. It’s the exact same shade as your eyes.”
I froze, startled by the unexpected sweetness of her words. She looked from the stone to me, her gaze lingering as if studying the similarities. “It moves,” she said, turning the quartz slowly. “The colors shift and change, just like your eyes. Do all dryads have such stunning eye colors?”
“Of course not,” I replied with a mock air of superiority. “I’m unique.”
Sylvie smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I can honestly say I’ve never met anyone like you.”
Her words and the way she held my gaze made my chest tighten. A warmth grew between us, a tether I couldn’t explain. I reached out and placed my hand over hers, closing it gently around the quartz.
“Whatever happens next,” I said softly, “you’ll always have this to remind you of your time in the forest.”
She paused, the moment growing quiet. A shadow of sadness crossed her features.
“When I lifted the stone from the water, I did remember something,” she said hesitantly.
“Another time I held a rare stone in my hands. I can’t recall the details clearly, but…
I knew what it was, just like I knew this one. It felt so familiar.”
She trailed off, and I sensed there was more she wasn’t saying. Had she remembered someone else? Seen a face she didn’t want to share? I wouldn’t press her. If she wanted to tell me, she would.
Sylvie shook her head as if clearing her thoughts. “The memories flutter through my mind like these moon dragons across the pool. They’re there one moment, gone the next, fragile and fleeting.”
She glanced out at the water, the shimmering light reflected in her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anywhere more beautiful in my life.”
“There are many beautiful places in Silver Vale,” I said, watching her. “But this is the most beautiful of all.”
Sylvie sighed heavily, her expression shifting as if regret had settled over her. “Well,” she said with a wry smile, “as healing as that little brew might be, it did nothing to stave off my hunger. Now, where did we put that food?”
Laughing, I dug into my pack, pulling out some rations and a flagon of elderberry wine. We sat by the fairy flame, sharing food and sipping wine as the fire warmed us. Halfway through the bottle, the humor started flowing as freely as the wine.
“I’m definitely an assassin,” Sylvie announced, her tone mock-serious. “Sent to take out… I don’t know, someone important.”
“Because they terrorized your home village?” I offered, raising an eyebrow.
She nodded quickly. “Exactly! They terrorized my village in search of the missing Golden Wool Slippers.”
“The Golden Wool Slippers of King Stopholis,” I said, grinning. “He needed them because the golden floor of his palace was too cold. Also, they kept his feet from turning into flippers.”
Sylvie snorted. “Right! Because if his feet turned into flippers, he’d become a merman, and his entire kingdom would sink underwater.”
“Exactly,” I said, nodding sagely. “And since his people can’t breathe underwater, they would surely perish.”
We both laughed, doubling over as the ridiculous story grew more absurd.
The wine did more than loosen our humor—it brought us closer.
Somewhere along the way, our bodies gravitated toward each other until we were pressed together, shoulders touching, her hand resting lightly on my knee.
The heat of her touch sent a slow burn through me, and I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering to all the ways I wanted her hand to move.
“That seems like a reasonable history for someone like me,” Sylvie said with mock thoughtfulness. “Far more believable than being a ballet dancer on the run.”
“Or a jewel thief,” I offered.
She grinned. “Or a bard. Or maybe a wandering priestess-slash-witch-slash-sorceress.”
“I like the idea that you’re a shape-shifting dragon.” I smirked. “And someday, you’ll reveal your true form and eat me.”
Sylvie chuckled, her eyes sparkling. “Well, you do look delicious…” Her voice trailed off as she brushed a crumb of bread from my chin.
Her touch lingered, and the air between us shifted. The laughter faded, replaced by something deeper, more urgent. My heart pounded as I caught her hand, holding it gently against my face.
Our gazes locked, and for a long moment, neither of us moved. Maybe it was the wine, or the frustration over her lost memories, or the feelings we’d both been holding back. Whatever the reason, I couldn’t stop myself. I leaned forward, and so did she.
When our lips met, it was as if the world disappeared.
Her touch was soft but full of yearning, her fingers sliding to the back of my neck as I pulled her closer.
Every emotion I’d bottled up poured into that kiss, and I knew—whatever happened next, whatever her memories revealed—I didn’t want to let her go.