Page 51 of The Nymph Prince

A light laugh escaped her. “I suppose so. There are times I think I influenced him a bit too much. As a child, I often spoke of leaving Avalontis. Of exploring the world above us. And Loo-loo would stare at me with big, wondrous green eyes.”

I nearly choked. “Loo-loo?”

Eva turned and gave me a mischievous grin. “His childhood nickname. He would probably strangle me for telling you this story, but I’m going to anyway.”

I approached her, eager to hear a story from Lorcan’s youth. I was perhaps a littletooeager to learn everything there was to know about the nymph.

“As a boy, Lorcan struggled with speech. Even at the age when children were forming complete sentences, he was silent, not uttering a single word. The three of us grew up together, and for the longest time, Troy and I didn’t think Lorcancouldspeak. He was mute and only smiled or frowned. He liked to listen to us tell him stories, though. His favorite story involved a giant who lived on the land who was able to snatch the stars from the sky.”

My chest warmed again, and the cold that’d been coiled in my stomach from the revelation of my destiny was swept away. I tried picturing Lorcan as a child. It proved difficult, however, to imagine him being so quiet.

“Then one day,” Eva continued. “We were running through the marketplace. I was ten and the boys were age six. Lorcan wasn’t watching what was ahead of him and he ran face first into a man’s cart, causing the trinkets to rattle and nearly break. The man, who was angered by the commotion, leaned down and snatched Lorcan by the front of his shirt, clearly not recognizing whose son it was he grabbed. He demanded to know Lorcan’s name and he batted me and Troy away when we tried to intervene. Lorcan then stared the man down with a serious brow before saying in the sweetest, little voice I’d ever heard, ‘I am called Loo-loo.’”

I completely lost it and laughed.

The image her words created was too endearing, and it made me feel even more affection for the nymph who was on his way to stealing my heart.

“So he doesn’t speak for the first six years of his life, and when he finally does, those are his words?” I asked in a delighted tone.

“Yes,” Eva responded, giggling. “After that day, he said the occasional word or two. It took him a while to start fully speaking. When he got older, we realized he was gifted with a voice of persuasion. I feel as though that’s the reason for his speech delay. Can you imagine a small child having that gift?”

I joined her in another laugh. I’d drowned in my self-misery all day, weighed down by my abundance of questions and fear over what my dream had meant, and it felt incredible to put all of that out of my mind, even for just a moment.

“He will forever be Loo-loo to me now,” Eva remarked. The way her eyes stared off into the distance gave me the feeling her mind was elsewhere. “I feel it, you know.”

“Feel what?”

Her gaze returned to me. “The bond you two share. I’ve never sensed anything quite like it before.”

“Do you know what it means? The reason we’re connected?”

“I’ve heard stories.” She crossed her arms and watched a school of fish swim by. “There’s been too many stories shared this night, and so that tale will come another day.”

I sighed.

“What of your arm?” she then asked, gently touching her fingers to the bandage. “The wound is fresh.”

“In my dream, the seer said she needed my blood. She cut me just as I woke.” I observed the bandage. I’d tried using my powers to heal the wound, but had been unsuccessful. Which was no surprise, as my powers rarely appeared when I wanted them to.

The blood washed from Eva’s face. She was so pale that I felt my own skin begin to chill.

“Eva?”

“I thought we had more time,” she whispered. Her wide eyes and grave expression worried me. “But alas, we do not. It’s started.”

“What has?”

She paused before answering, as if having to muster the strength to say the words. Or to prepare herself for them. “The beginning of the end.”

***

As I treaded to my room, the whole palace seemed to be sleeping. What a blessing sleep would’ve been, yet I feared I wouldn’t be surrendering to it for a while. Not with the worries plaguing my mind, as well as my endless supply of questions as to what would happen next.

Reif followed behind me, not looking the least bit tired, even though he’d shadowed me all day and had stood outside the closed door all evening.

“Thank you for watching over me,” I said once we were at my door. “You’re certainly not one for conversation, but it’s been a comfort to have you with me.”

I expected him to give me a blank stare as usual or to grunt.