Handsome, charismatic Dimitri—how I fell for him. I could barely think with his hands in my hair and his eyes drinking me in.
I shake the memory away and continue, “My father is a merchant. He has many astounding things, but none are as amazing as the stone he wore around his neck. I told Dimitri about it—the changeling stone. A gift from fairies.” I’m quiet for a moment, but Galinor waits. “A few days later, Dimitri announced he was leaving, moving on with his troupe. He asked me to come with him—to be with him. He wanted the changeling stone, as well.”
“Why would you—”
I turn around to face him, needing him to understand. “He said it was a token, a way to show my devotion.”
“Running away with him wasn’t enough?” Galinor growls.
Startled by his tone, I scoot forward. He stops me and draws me back. “I’m not angry with you.”
“I took the stone. I stole it from my father’s bedside table while he was sleeping.”
Saying the words out loud, hearing them come from my mouth, makes it so much worse. What awful, ungrateful girl would steal something dear from her parents? People who have loved her and given her anything she could ever want?
I hold my hand to my lips, waiting for the ache of the memory to subside. Galinor runs his hand over my shoulder again, and I focus on his soft touch.
“I met Dimitri that night, and he took me to his troupe. The next morning, he was gone.”
“What do you mean he was gone?”
The pain gives way to anger, and I finish the story.
Galinor is quiet, and I wonder how horrible he thinks I am. How could he not? I think I’m horrible. I can tell from the way he is tensed that he is on edge.
We arrive at the palace gates, Irving and Bran ahead of us, and ride to the stables. I wake Danver and coax him down. Galinor drops from the horse first, and then he turns to offer me his hand. Unable to look at him now, I avert my eyes and watch mist rise from the waterfall.
Irving hands his horse off to a groom. “Let’s see what we can scavenge from the kitchens, shall we?”
Galinor nods them on. “You both go. We will be there shortly.”
I wait by Galinor’s side as he fusses over his horse. Finally, he hands the bay to a waiting stable boy. Without a word, the prince leads me toward the waterfall. We weave through lush gardens and pass flowers I would have thought impossible to grow in the cool mountain soil.
We reach a small wall, and Galinor sits, facing me. He stretches out his long legs, and I stand by his side, unsure what to do with my hands. His tunic is smudged with dirt that was kicked up on the ride back, and his hair is rumpled. Oddly, the look suits him.
“You can’t go after this man, Anwen. It’s too dangerous.”
“What choice do I have?”
“I will look for the Eldentimber tree again.” Galinor holds up his hand when I’m about to protest. “I’ll wait a few days. Perhaps whatever is out there will move on.”
I sit next to him. “You keep saying ‘I.’”
He gives me a stern look. “I won’t take you out there again.”
“I wasn’t that difficult.” I try to scowl, but honestly, I am too elated he’s willing to try again to give it much effort.
Galinor raises an eyebrow, and I notice there’s a smudge on his cheek as well.
“I have to be the one to speak with the fairies,” I remind him.
He makes a disgusted noise. “The fairies are anotherreason to leave you here. Who knows what they would do to you?”
I blink, startled by the vehemence in his tone. “Doto me? Fairies are known for their hospitality.”
Galinor gives me an incredulous look. “Not these fairies.”
I roll my eyes, take out a handkerchief, and wipe the smudge from his cheek. “I want to meet them.”
