“You invited me, remember? I’m here to take you to the Bubble Village.” He slides his hands back into his shorts pockets and looks around the open-air space, waiting for my response. When I had invited him, I had meant it, but I never thought he would actually show up. That was also before I found out Kellan was coming.
“I have plans,” I start, gesturing behind me like that is an answer. I’m still trying to process that Anders freaking Rykerson has just walked into my room…at a resort on Kliax…looking like a damn god himself.
He looks utterly divine in dark cerulean shorts and a crisp white shirt, his octopus tattoo a stark contrast against the fabric. The humid air gives his dark hair soft, loose waves, and his skin is a sun-kissed tan that highlights his chiseled features. Here, amidst the ocean, he seems entirely in his element—a prince among the waters, more relaxed, happier than I’ve ever seen. He looks fully alive.
He chews on his bottom lip. My eyes track the movement before my gaze returns to his.
“I spoke with your parents. They’re taking my sister with them andsaid they hope you have fun. They’ll see us at dinner. We should get going so I have time to show you everything I want.”
I cock my head, unsure whether to be pissed at him for going behind my back or impressed he planned it out. Something akin to happiness stirs within me.
“Wait,” I take a step toward him. “Your sister?”
He hums softly to himself, a grin spreading across his face as he nods in my direction. “I brought her along. She didn’t want to go to the village, so your parents offered to take her with them.” A flurry of questions swirls in my mind, each one more pressing than the last, but I know they will have to wait. My gaze drifts down to my outfit, and I can’t help but frown. It’s not as though he hasn’t seen me in less—running or swimming at the lake—but today feels different, and I feel a flush in my cheeks. The sliver of my exposed stomach feels intimate.
“You’re perfect,” he states confidently, as if he can somehow hear my inner turmoil. “Let’s go,” he adds, brushing past me with an air of confidence, heading toward the door. “I promised you’d be back for dinner.”
“But—” I start to protest, feeling a mix of uncertainty and excitement.
“Soraea, you look beautiful. Let’s go,” he insists, his eyes making a deliberate sweep over every inch of me, lingering on my hair cascading down my shoulders in natural waves, still damp and glistening in the light. The warmth of his gaze ignites a flutter of nerves in my stomach, and I decide against arguing any further.
With a resigned sigh, I grab my woven bag and slip into a pair of rope sandals. Taking a deep breath, I follow him outside, anxious yet excited to spend the day with him. There seems to be a fine line between the two emotions.
“This is the best way to the village,” Anders declares, holding up a sleek barrier disk, its metallic surface gleaming under the sunlight, before placing it gently on my temple. We stand side by side in front of two hoverboards, their black polished surfaces reflecting the azure sky. I have only attempted to ride one once before, and the memory ofit still makes me cringe. The barrier disk is intended to act as my energy shield, protecting me from injury should I fall. Yet, taking no chances with me, he also activates my energy shield at my wrist, the delicate gold band warm from sitting against my skin.
His touch feels infuriatingly comfortable as he grips my arm, as though our bodies have grown accustomed to touching. I swallow hard to suppress the storm of emotions within me. When I lift my gaze to meet his, I’m struck by the fact that his deep sapphire eyes are nearly devoid of the silver flecks, as if they, too, have relaxed. He brushes his thumb softly over the pulse point in my wrist, which races under his touch, and he arches a brow with an amused expression before stepping back and releasing my arm.
He leaps onto his hoverboard in one fluid motion, a grin like I’ve never seen before spreading across his face like sunlight breaking through the clouds. I stand there, mouth agape, unsure how to move. He accelerates, lifting no more than two feet off the ground, gliding forward with ease. My nerves flutter as I’m pulled back to the task at hand. Gripping the controllers tightly, my palms already slick, I take a deep breath, steeling myself and reminding myself I can do this.
Slowly, I allow the board to rise from the ground. It wobbles beneath me for the briefest moment, but I pull my core tight and breathe. I lean forward slightly, urging the board forward just as Anders circles back to me, his laughter ringing out through the calm silence. I roll my eyes, determined not to let him witness me fall. With a playful gesture, I signal for him to lead the way, feigning impatience.
He responds with a wink, that ridiculous dimple deepening on his cheek, and then he flies ahead, leaving me behind. With another breath, I move forward, gradually finding my balance and footing as I follow after him.
Brine-scented wind brushes against my skin, lifting my entire mood. It’s impossible to feel anything but hopeful and full of life when you’re on a beach, the soft, melodic roaring of the waves at your side, and a handsome prince showing off in front of you. Because that’s definitely what he’s doing as he spins and moves with the board like he’s on a wave.
We cross the sandy beaches and soon find the cobblestone streets of the byway heading east along the shore. There is nothing for miles except for the sound of the waves and the rustling of the tall, broad-leaved trees. On this side of the island, there aren’t many people, but there’s a bustling city on the opposite side with crowded streets and stacked townhomes.
Anders slows his pace several times, hovering beside me as we approach the Bubble Village. With a gleam in his eyes, he shares stories about Kliax and the community we are headed to. For years, I had labeled Anders as a self-centered, entitled prick, too caught up in my own preconceived notions to see the truth. But now, witnessing him in this light—relaxed, filled with energy, and truly himself—reveals a side I never knew existed. There’s a sincerity in how he speaks about his home and its inhabitants that captivates my attention and challenges my earlier judgments about him.
Before I realize it, we find ourselves gliding to the edge of the village, the cobblestones beneath us worn and covered in moss. I’m struck by a completely unexpected sight as we meander through the quiet streets. Enormous glass domes rise up around us, resembling colossal bubbles that a giant has scattered across the landscape.
Each dome is unique; some are transparent, allowing natural light to enter, while others are frosted, ensuring privacy. Some of the glass structures rest atop towering, organic formations that mimic the shapes of trees. Others nestle snugly into the earth, their rooftops adorned with lush moss and vibrant grasses that blend seamlessly into the surrounding nature, as if the hillsides are in the process of claiming them.
A sparkling river meanders through the heart of the village, its crystal-clear waters flowing toward the ocean beyond. Bridges arch over the river at intervals, as though the village had been crafted around the waterway.
The entire village embodies harmony with nature. Every surface is alive with plant life, and fragrant flowers spill from pots and window boxes while vines crawl up the sides of the domes, even weaving their way inside. As we continue our journey along the cobblestone paths, Ican’t help but smile and wave at the villagers we pass. Some greet Anders with warm recognition, while others look puzzled, seemingly unsure of who he is. I sense he prefers anonymity.
As we draw closer to the river, a boat resembling a hollowed-out tree trunk captures my attention. It glides over the peaceful ripples of the water, carrying a family within. A tinge of warmth filters through me as I watch a little girl nuzzle into her father’s lap, her small frame curling up contentedly against him while the mother passes apples around to the other children.
Anders continues to lead me deeper into the village until we reach an impressive glass dome at the center—the largest of all the structures here. I can’t help but feel a sense of awe.
We park the hoverboards, tucking the controllers into my bag. The village’s energy surrounds us as people enter and exit the large dome, and the scent of food wafts through the air each time the doors open.
“Do you trust me?” Anders asks as he extends his hand toward me. I gaze down at his outstretched hand, a whirlwind of thoughts stirring in my mind. I momentarily weigh the implications of taking it, but something tugs at me, urging me to, and I realize, I do trust him with my life. Without overthinking it, I slide my fingers into his, and a sharp gasp escapes my lips at the intensity of the energy that rushes through me.
I feel my magic rise in response as tears prick my eyes.Not here. Please, not here.
He grips my hand, steadying me with his other hand braced on my arm as I stumble forward. We hold each other there, in the middle of the village, our gazes locked. He knows this secret, this deep, scary secret, and yet it doesn’t change how he looks at me—like I’m the answer to everything. My emotions blend into a complex explosion of longing and rightness, something deep within me claiming him as mine. I take a steadying breath, inhaling the humid air. He brushes a hand down my heated arms, and I feel his magic rise in response.
