"You followed me?" The absurdity of talking to a creature made of water struck her, but the sprite responded by doing a small loop, its movements almost playful.
She reached toward the basin hesitantly. The sprite immediately swam to her fingers, brushing against them with that strange sensation of cool silk she remembered from the fountains. It wove between her fingers like a cat seeking attention, if cats were liquid and lived in wash basins.
"You can't stay here," she told it, though even as she said it, she found herself charmed by the tiny creature. "Sian will come looking for you. You need to be with the others."
The sprite released a stream of bubbles, something that looked almost like a sigh, and sank to the bottom of the basin dramatically. Its gills drooped, the whole tiny body seeming to convey dejection.
Despite everything, Briar found herself smiling. "That's very dramatic for something so small."
The sprite perked up at her voice, rising to the surface again. This time, it did something extraordinary. The water around it began to lift, forming a perfect sphere about the size of her fist. The sprite floated in the center of this bubble as it rose from the basin, hovering in the air between them.
Briar stared, captivated. The water sphere caught the light, casting tiny rainbows across the walls. The sprite swam lazy circles inside its self-made home, clearly pleased with itself.
"You can do that?" She held out her hand, and the bubble drifted over to hover above her palm. She could feel the faint coolness of it, the way it displaced the air. "That's remarkable."
The bubble descended to rest in her cupped hands. Through the water, the sprite's eye-spots seemed to study her face. Then, as suddenly as it had formed, the bubblecollapsed, water running through her fingers back into the basin with a splash. The sprite swam contentedly in circles, apparently having proved its point.
A knock at the door interrupted her wonder. "Just a moment," she called, quickly pulling on a dry tunic.
She glanced back at the basin. The sprite had settled near the edge, gills waving gently. "Stay here," she whispered. "And try not to flood anything."
She opened the door to find a servant—not the young girl from this morning, but an older fae with bark-textured skin.
"Begging your pardon, my lady, but Lord Arion asks if you'll join him for the evening meal. The formal dining hall, when you're ready."
Evening already. The day had passed faster than she'd realized. "Tell him I'll be there shortly."
The servant bowed and departed. Briar closed the door and returned to the basin, where the sprite was now investigating the soap dish with apparent suspicion.
"I have to go," she told it. "But... I suppose you've already decided to stay, haven't you?"
The sprite created another bubble, smaller this time, and rose to eye level with her. Its gills fluttered in what she was beginning to recognize as its happy gesture.
"You need a name," she said, then felt foolish. Did water sprites even understand names? But the creature did a little spin in its bubble, seeming pleased by the idea. "What about... River? Too obvious. Brook? No." She studied its delicate, translucent form, the way its gill-fronds moved like aquatic flowers. "Tidal? Still too—"
The word brought back a sudden memory—tide pools along the coast, Allegra's small hand in hers, pointing excitedly at a starfish clinging to the rocks. "Frederick!" her sister had announced with absolute certainty, as if the creature had been waiting its whole life for that exact name. Everything had been Frederick to Allegra.
"Frederick," Briar said softly, the name carrying the weight of that memory.
The sprite suddenly brightened, its whole body flashing a pale blue before returning to clear, gills fluttering in what she was beginning to recognize as delight.
"Frederick it is, then," she murmured, throat tight with the reminder of everything she'd left behind, everything she'd traded to save that little girl who named starfish in tide pools.
The newly named sprite descended back into the basin with a small splash. Briar quickly changed into proper dinner attire, a gown of soft gray that seemedto float rather than fall, layers of gossamer-thin material that created an ethereal effect with every movement. A swooping neckline was both modest and tasteful with billowing sleeves that gathered at her wrists with delicate gold bands. Three more bands of gold embroidery wrapped around the bodice, drawing the eye to her waist before the skirts swept out in flowing layers that seemed to catch and hold light.
As she headed for the door, she noticed Frederick had created another bubble and was floating near her shoulder.
"You can't come to dinner," she said. The bubble drooped slightly, sinking lower in the air. "Fine. But stay hidden. If anyone asks, you're supposed to be in the winter pools."
Frederick brightened again and tucked itself behind her hair, the bubble shrinking to the size of a large marble. She could feel its cool presence against her neck, oddly comforting.
She made her way to the dining hall, trying not to think about how many hours remained until dawn, until she would have to choose between courts, between futures, between the two fae who pulled at her heart in such different ways.
At least she wasn't entirely alone. Even if her only ally was a creature made of water who'd decided she was worth following.
Chapter six
The dining hall glowed with soft twilight colors, the Star Court's magic ensuring the light shifted gradually from gold to violet as evening deepened. The table was set for five, though the spacing felt deliberate—Thaine at one end like an afterthought, the others arranged to keep maximum distance from him while maintaining the pretense of civility.
