“One of them always had breathing equipment, right? Can you picture it?”
“I don’t want to picture it. And it’s the same with Ferer and Nelsin.”
“No, because Ferer can also breathe air, so they can come to the surface and?—”
“Yes, yes. I get it.”
Mirella grins beside us, then turns around, and her face lights up.
Ziven walks to us, dressed all in white, like a prince, or rather, king. He’s wearing a beard now, and looks some five years older, and more serious. Hopefully Mirella will find him old and ugly.
He glances at us, walks to Mirella, pulls her—and they kiss.
It’s such a long, passionate kiss that I avert my gaze, not wanting to intrude in this moment. Marlak also turns away, and we stare at the waves. A few seconds or perhaps an eternity later, I hear Ziven’s voice. “Marlak, Astra.”
We turn and see him alone.
“Where’s my sister?” Marlak asks.
Ziven crosses his arms. “I asked her to go for a walk with Tarlia. I wanted to speak with you. Alone.”
He looks and sounds so serious, almost like a different person.
Marlak strokes his own chin. “You changed your look.”
Ziven chuckles. “I had to look more kingly, I suppose.” He looks at me. “Astra, I thought you were my friend.”
“Am I not?”
“You… have told Mirella to forget me, haven’t you?”
I can’t believe she told him that, but I decide to be honest. “I feared you’d break her heart.”
Marlak glares at him. “You have a problem with Astra?”
“No, I’m just… hurt, I guess. But if it’s because you care for Mirella, I can’t fault you.” He pauses. “You know why I’m here.”
Marlak smirks. “For a spectacular fae wedding, of course.”
Ziven looks at the circular dais and smiles. “That, too. And to see you all again. I heard great news from the fae lands. You’ve been doing a good job. Both of you.”
“You too,” I say, then ask, “Have you ever found Driziely?”
“She’s dead.” His voice’s devoid of emotion.
“Did you…” I can’t bear to finish the question.
“Sayanne and Otavio left a trail of blood, and I won’t say my hands are clean. But I didn’t kill her, no. That said, the crownisheavy.”
“Why don’t you quit it and come live here?” Perhaps I’m wondering if the carefree Ziven I used to know is there somewhere.
His expression hardens. “You think Mirella would marry a human with no prospects?”
“She would,” I say, shocked at the nonsense he just uttered. “Of course she would. If she loves you, she’ll want you regardless.” Mirella would want Ziven even if he were swimming in a lake of shit. I’m sure of that, even if I don’t dare say it.
Ziven huffs. “Well, I love her, and I’ll give her nothing less than a crown.” He turns to Marlak. “I said I’d wait a year, but I can’t. If she agrees to marry and come with me, can she come?”
“If it’s her choice, sure,” Marlak says.
