Page 7

Dayton

U sing a bush knife I “borrowed” from Justus’s cottage, I hack through the thick vegetation. Judging by the light streaming through the thinning canopy, we’ve made it out of the deepest trenches of the jungle and are almost back to the coast.

Sweat drips down my spine. It’s always warm in Summer, but the muggy heat within the forest is too much for even me to bear. Plus, I should have worn a shirt. I forgot how bad the mosquitos get in the bush.

But none of it bothers me. Not even a little bit. Not when Farron’s walking beside me, grinning from ear to ear with pride from all the samples he collected.

It’s been a couple weeks since his family arrived in Hadria, and we’ve spent every single day together. Soon enough, he’ll return to the orchards and libraries of the Autumn Realm. Until then, I long to show him everything wonderful about Summer. Who knows? Maybe then he’ll want to come back.

So far, I’ve taken him out on my skiff to sail the crystal-clear waters of the lagoon on the western coast. The local dolphins, pink as pigs and with permanent grins on their faces, love to chase the boats and will even swim beside you if you get into the water.

Of course, I wasn’t surprised to see they took an immediate liking to Farron, twirling around him as soon as he jumped in.

By the end of our afternoon, the creatures were taking turns whipping him around the ocean as he held onto their dorsal fins.

The next day, I’d shown him the peach orchards outside Hadria.

There’s a spring said to be blessed by our long-lost queen, and the water filters into the soil, causing the fruit to grow as large as a person’s head.

The creatures grow larger too, and dragonflies sail by, big as horses.

But Farron, with his knowing eyes and quiet feet, crept up to them when they landed beside the trees and perfectly sketched one’s eye, down to every facet.

Of course, when I’d tried to approach, I’d sent the whole swarm erupting into the air.

The good news was their wings tumbled a bunch of peaches down, and we practically waddled back to Hadria, full and sticky.

We’ve explored the markets and museums, beachcombed, and picnicked. We danced late into the night after stumbling upon a bonfire held by a nomadic band that sails the waterways on a skinny boat, making their living with song. We’ve laughed and talked and teased and kissed—kissed a lot .

And the best part is, Damocles has no idea .

It hasn’t even been hard. No one expects me to hang around the keep anyway, and I got my friend Claudius from the docks to pretend to be a professor from the university in need of an assistant with an out-of-realm perspective, which was an all too believable alibi for Farron.

My smile threatens to outmatch Farron’s as I think of just how clever I am.

If Damocles knew Farron and I were spending all this time together, that I was doing exactly what he and High Princess Niamh were scheming about for months, he would be insufferable.

Damocles already feels like his every decision is blessed with wisdom from the Queen.

And the worst part is, he’s always right.

Not most of the time. Not regularly. Every single decision Damocles has ever made has worked out for him and for Hadria.

No wonder Mom made him High Prince. He’s the perfect son of Summer, after all.

But I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing I don’t think Farron is a boring, snobby crybaby. To Dammy, it’d be another example of my poor judgment.

I’d much rather keep the Autumn Prince my little secret instead.

Farron bobs beside me, his auburn hair curling with the humidity, additional ribbons of freckles across his face which weren’t there when he arrived in Summer.

He’s stripped off his fine tunic, so he’s wearing a white undershirt that clings to his lean frame.

Freckles even cover his shoulders and arms. Summer looks good on you , I think.

“I can’t believe I found this.” Farron reaches into his bag, pulling out a cranberry-red feather. “Nori’s going to love it. But not as much as the snakeskin. To her, the creepier, the better.”

Warmth tingles through my chest as I listen to the adoration in Farron’s voice as he speaks of his family. “I wish I had a sister.”

“It’d be nice for Nori, too. No other children in the royal families. It’d be great for her to have a friend to grow up with.”

If my mother ends up having another child, they would be right around Nori’s age.

Farron’s little sister has entered serenage , the time when fae aging slows.

Fae babies grow quickly, similar to our human counterparts.

I remember Mom explaining it to me as some sort of defense mechanism.

By about school age, everything slows. Fae remain children for decades, and teenagers for even longer.

A fae with wrinkles and hair of silver has seen centuries.

Though I’ve never met one, some say there are still fae alive who once lived in the Above.

“Until then, I think Decimus is happy to play chaperone,” I say, driving my knife down on a tall fern. “If Ma and Ovi have another baby, the three of us brothers would spoil them rotten.”

As I push the broken fern away, bright sunlight streams through, and the crash of waves welcomes us. We step out of the jungle onto a grassy cliff, looking out over the turquoise ocean.

I flash Farron a grin. “Told you I’d find our way out of there.”

“This doesn’t look like where we came in.” Farron turns in a circle, trying to get his bearings. “We didn’t enter near the sea.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll figure out where we are. I’ll have you back home and tucked into bed with a cup of tea and a boring book before your sunset bedtime.” As I give him a wink, he sticks his tongue out at me.

Seriously, though, I need to get my bearings.

The last thing I want to do is get lost and embarrass myself in front of him.

Quickly, I scan the horizon. It looks familiar.

My eyes catch on a small sandy isle half a league offshore.

There are four palm trees in a square, with the ones on the left and right bending toward the middle?—

“Maybe we can pinpoint our location based on the coastal topography.” Farron steps to the edge of the cliff.

I let out a strangled gasp and snatch Farron back by his undershirt.

“What’s wrong?” he cries.

“I know where we are. This water is cursed.”

“Cursed?” There’s a teasing glint in Farron’s gaze, but an underlying curiosity too.

I point to the isle, its outline clear against the cerulean sky. “See that? Legend has it Captain Katharine, the founder of Corsa Tuga, buried her most precious treasure on the isle and laid a curse on the water to protect it.”

“What kind of curse?” Farron asks, his voice softer now, more serious. He takes a step closer, his shoulder brushing against mine. My heart flutters, but I keep my focus on the story.

“A monster lurks in the depths,” I explain, unable to tear my eyes from his. “Even if you survive the hundred-foot jump into the ocean, don’t get dashed upon the rocks, and can swim through the current, it doesn’t matter. The creature will catch you.”

Farron shudders slightly, but it’s hard to tell if it’s from fear or the closeness of our bodies. “What kind of creature?”

“Some say it’s a kraken. Others claim it’s the ghost of the captain herself,” I continue, my voice low and steady. “But everyone agrees on one thing: no fae who has sought the treasure has returned.”

“Have you ever tried?”

“No.” I give a half laugh.

Farron raises a skeptical brow. “Jumping off cliffs into the ocean and tempting ghosts seems a very Dayton thing to do.”

“Despite your preconceived notions of me, I’m not that brave. Or foolish.”

Farron stays silent for a moment, then whispers, “Good. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

The weight of his words hangs between us. The sunlight catches the strands of his hair, making them glow like embers.

“Farron,” I start, but the words catch in my throat. Whatever this is, I need to stop it.

Farron’s leaving Summer soon. He’s heir to the throne of Autumn. And although he may not be a boring, snobby crybaby, one of my first impressions of him was correct.

Farron has a soft heart. I have no business holding onto something as fragile as that.

So, I laugh and slug him on the shoulder. “You’re hilarious. I’m a gladiator . I face death every time I step onto the sands.”

Farron’s lip quivers, and he takes a long time answering. Then, he gives an awkward laugh and turns away from me. “I don’t know. Maybe you need something to make you brave enough to face the curse.”

“Like what?”

“Like a little push.” He playfully shoves me, not hard enough to be serious, but enough to make me stagger.

“Oh, you want to take on a warrior of the arena?” I launch myself at him. We tumble onto the grass, laughing and wrestling. Whatever tension had hung between us drifts away into the breeze.

“The great Prince of Summer, afraid of ghost stories!” Farron teases, pinning me down before I twist and roll us over.

“I could take on a ghost!” I hold him down, our foreheads nearly touching. “I would face a ghost for you,” I add, the words hardly louder than a breath.

His laughter fades. “You would?”

“Anything.” My voice is barely a whisper, but in the stillness, it feels like a shout.

Before I can second-guess myself, I lean in, closing the distance between us. Our lips meet. The heat of the jungle pales compared to the fire igniting in my chest.

Farron’s hand slides up to cup my face, pulling me closer as he deepens the kiss.

All the noise in my head fades. Why does this keep happening?

Every time I’m with Farron, it’s like the haze in my mind clears.

He burns away all the thoughts of what a disappointment I am, of how I can’t trust my own judgment.

There’s only the blaze of his kiss and the swell of my heart.

I want more of him, more of this joy I get when I’m around him that drowns out everything else. My hand roams under his shirt.

“Day,” he breathes, cheeks flushed.

I wonder if my weight is too much for him, and shift. The movement drags my pelvis over his, and I hold back a growl. He’s hard. So fucking hard. Just like I am.

Can he feel me? Feel how fucking bad I want him? How hungry he makes me for every part of him?

Our kiss intensifies, becoming more desperate, and I think the answer to all my questions is yes .

His hands tangle in my hair, and I feel his heartbeat against my bare chest, matching the frantic pace of my own. I grind down on him, this need for closeness overwhelming.

His lips leave mine, trailing a path of fiery kisses along my jawline, down my neck. I gasp, fingers digging into his skin, urging him on.

With rough hands, I force his face back up, capturing his lips again. My tongue presses into his mouth, exploring, tasting. Lean muscles tense beneath my touch.

Finally, we break apart to catch our breath. Our cocks rub together, and I squeeze my eyes shut, so I don’t lose control against him.

“I think you should get off me,” Farron whispers.

I lean away, observing the same blaze in his eyes, the same overwhelming need. The realization that we’re both so close to exploding is intoxicating.

Rolling off him, I force myself to stare at the sky, to come back to myself, even though it’s the last thing I desire. I don’t want to belong to myself. I want to belong to him.

But like taking on ghosts and cursed water, I’m nowhere near brave enough to do that.

“You’re, uh, you’re really good at this stuff,” Farron mumbles, attempting to sound casual.

I chuckle and smirk at him. “Thanks. So are you.”

“Well, I guess I have read a lot about it.”

“Read about it?”

“Yeah, you know, in books and stuff. And those pamphlets the ladies hand out in the lower alleys of Coppershire. I mean, I don’t go down there, but I found them in my tutor’s briefcase once…” Farron suddenly seems very interested in a blade of grass.

Realization dawns on me, and I sit up, staring at him, agape. “Wait, Farron, have you never kissed anyone before?”

“I’ve kissed people!” he says. “I mean, a person. Okay, it was a wooden dummy but?—”

“So, you’re a virgin?”

His eyes go wide, and he opens his mouth to deny, but no words come out. His blush deepens to a sailor’s favorite shade of night sky. “Um, maybe?”

I give a half-choked laugh. “You’re ‘maybe’ a virgin? You can’t exactly be unsure about that!” I collapse back to the ground.

“What? It’s not like it’s a big deal.” He turns to stare at me.

I unsuccessfully attempt to suppress a groan and dig my palms into my eyes. “It’s not a big deal normally. But you’re the heir to the Autumn Realm, and I’m…I’m me.” I look to the side, finding his golden gaze. “I don’t want to ruin you, Fare.”

He gives a sad smile. “It’s not like I’m some delicate flower.”

That’s just it, though. He is like a precious rose, blooming toward the sun. And I’m the typhoon that will come in and uproot it.

With a sigh, I gather him in my arms.

“Maybe you need to jump,” Farron murmurs.

“What?”

“To find the treasure on the isle. You’ve got to jump in the water feet first.”

I pull him closer against me. “That’s harder than it sounds, Little Leaf.”

He smiles up at me, and there’s something so earnest and genuine in that smile, it makes my heart ache. “I can be the push you need, if you want me to.”

I don’t reply; I just hold him. We lie there until the sun sets low on the horizon and the shadows of the palm trees on the isle lengthen across the water.

Farron doesn’t understand. If I jump, it’s not me who will get hurt.

It’s him.