“I didn’t say anything about love,” I protest, perhaps too quickly.
Iris smiles knowingly but mercifully changes the subject. “Give me three days to prepare the enchantment. The full moon is tomorrow night, which will help amplify what little magic I can gather.” She gestures to the pin still in my palm. “Keep that with you for now. It needs to attune to your aura before I begin.”
I slip the pin into my pocket, not entirely understanding but unwilling to question fairy magic logistics. “Thank you, Iris. Really.”
As I turn to leave, she calls after me: “Bring him to see me sometime, will you? When it’s safe. I’ve missed my friend.”
The vulnerability in her voice makes me pause. “I will. I promise.”
Outside Fae & Folly, the day has brightened, though the wind carries a bite that warns of coming storms. I stand for a moment on the narrow street, the compass pin a reassuring weight in my pocket.
One day of freedom for Roark. One day to walk beside me without hiding.
It isn’t enough—not nearly.
I make my way back to Harbor Street, lost in thought. What would one day of visible Roark even look like? I imagine walking with him through town, introducing him to my favorite spots, sitting across from him at a restaurant table like any normal couple.
Couple. The word catches me off guard. Is that what we are? What we could be?
I’m so distracted I nearly collide with a group of volunteers hanging festival banners across the street. Blue and white streamers flutter in the breeze, along with posters advertising the upcoming Maritime Festival.
One shows a stylized lighthouse with waves crashing around it—pretty enough. Another displays an old-fashioned sailing ship. But the third makes my stomach clench: a silhouette of men in a boat, harpoons raised triumphantly.
“Looking good, isn’t it?” A man I vaguely recognize from the committee beams at me. “Festival’s gonna be bigger than ever this year.”
“Great,” I manage, stepping around him.
I haven’t decided what to do about Sebastian’s hunting reenactment. Making a scene at the meeting probably didn’t help my case. If I push too hard against it, I’ll only drawattention to myself—attention I definitely don’t need with Roark in the picture.
But letting it happen feels like a betrayal.
The pin seems to grow heavier in my pocket. Maybe that’s the answer—bring Roark to the festival under the glamour. Show the town committee that sea monsters aren’t just creatures from their bloody history but beings with thoughts and feelings. Let them meet one, even unknowingly.
Or maybe that’s the stupidest plan I’ve ever conceived.
By the time I reach the outskirts of town, my head is spinning with possibilities, none of them simple. I need to talk to Roark. His cabin is at least a two-hour hike each way, and I’d need a full day for the trip.
I mentally review my tour schedule as I follow the coastal path back to the lighthouse. I have a school group tomorrow and regular tours the next day, but the day after is clear—a maintenance day I could postpone. I could make it to the cabin and back before sunset if I left at dawn.
Three days. Three days until I see him again. It feels simultaneously too long and not long enough to sort through my jumbled thoughts.
Back at the lighthouse, I climb to the lantern room and look out at the vast expanse of ocean. Somewhere beneath those waves,Roark is swimming—perhaps even patrolling these waters, as he promised. The thought both warms and unsettles me.
How long can we keep this up? Meeting in secret, hiding from a town that might never accept what he is?
I pull the compass pin from my pocket and hold it up to the light streaming through the glass walls. The silver gleams, catching sunbeams and throwing them back in fractured patterns. For a moment, I imagine I can feel a gentle pulse within it, like a heartbeat—though that’s probably just wishful thinking.
One day. One single day when Roark could walk in the sun.
It’s not enough. But I’ll take any time I can get with him.
Chapter 15
Old Friends
Roark
Three days without Ashe feels like drowning in air.
