A flash of fear crosses his face, and his posture goes rigid. In that moment, I want to swallow my confession and curse my idiotic desire to empathize with him. Then he lets out a slow exhale and his eyes go soft. “Tell me,” he whispers. There’s no demand in his tone. Only invitation.
My throat tightens, constricting the words I’ve never admitted to anyone but my father and Podaxis. Words that make me a monster. I hold his gaze, trying to force out the tale that builds in my chest, barbed with iron, ready to be free after so much time hiding in the cage of my darkest heart. I twist my fingers at my waist as if they could unravel the knot of truth. Tears prick my eyes.
“I won’t judge you,” he says. “You know I can’t.” Then he takes a step away from the tree trunk and lifts his hand toward mine, still tangled at my waist. I go still beneath his touch, let him take one of my hands in his. Holding my gaze, he reaches for the cuff of my glove and dips a finger beneath it. I furrow my brow, unsure what he means to do, but I make no move to stop him. Slowly, he peels the glove down my arm and away from my fingertips, leaving them bare. His eyes don’t leave mine as he tucks the glove into my coat pocket, then weaves his fingers through mine.
I stifle a gasp. If I thought holding his hand through gloves was improper, this is a whole other level. But I can’t say I dislike it. His palm is warm and strong. Steady. My breaths grow deeper, the tightness in my chest loosening. Keeping our hands tightly clasped, he guides us to the tree until we’re side by side, our backs pressed against the trunk. He keeps his gaze fixed straight ahead, and I understand the gift he’s giving me. Like this, I don’t have to look at him while I confess. His hand is all the reminder I need that he’s there.
How he knew this is what I needed, I have no idea.
Finally, I speak. “I told you before that I spent most of my life as a seal. That’s how I liked it. I never had the desire to learn the magic it took to remove my sealskin, and Father never encouraged me. He said it was safer that I remain a seal anyways. That I didn’t need to learn magic like my siblings. For years, that was enough. I liked watching my cousins dance on the shore in their seelie forms but never had the urge to join them. As I got older, my brothers would invite me out on their excursions to town where they’d drink and visit brothels, but I never agreed. Until one day I did.”
I nibble my lip. In the beat of silence, Dorian squeezes my hand again.
“Just over a year ago, I felt the first urge of curiosity about the world outside my lagoon. I loved my lagoon, loved swimming in the ocean around the palace beach. But I was reaching maturity. I don’t know why, but for the first time, I wanted to know what else the world offered. I told one of my brothers that I was ready to learn to remove my sealskin and see the town, but I didn’t want Father to know. I felt guilty for my desires. I knew how much he seemed to want me to remain a seal. I was his baby. His only daughter that hadn’t already moved away, and I was aging too fast. Far faster than fae ever had before. And that pained him. I knew it did. He wanted to keep me coddled, and for so long, I thrived on that. But not forever. So, in secret and at night—the only time safe for a selkie to remove her skin before she’s taken human clothing—I had my youngest brother teach me how to find the hidden seam in my sealskin, how to peel it back and remove it. Podaxis thought it was a grave mistake, that nothing good could come from leaving our lagoon. My brothers, on the other hand, encouraged my efforts, brought me my first clothing. Once I’d mastered the art of shifting forms, they took me out to celebrate. I visited my first pub, tasted my first ale. My brothers eyed me like a shark, ensuring I never left their sight. I watched people dance, watched them kiss. I met my brothers’ friends, their human lovers. And then…I met Luther.”
I shudder at the taste of his name on my tongue.
“Then again, I supposemetis the wrong word. In truth, I was warned against him. The boy looked at my siblings as if he knew them well enough, but his eyes remained on me for the rest of the night. This wasn’t lost on my eldest brother, and he told me never to be alone with the human boy. I thought he was just being overprotective, but I said I understood. At the end of our excursion, my brothers took me home, and I relayed my night’s adventures to Podaxis. He listened anxiously, mortified that I was brave enough to leave the comfort of our beach. He was even more disturbed when I wanted to go out the next night too. This time, I wanted to go alone. At least, I wanted to go without my brothers. I yearned to explore town without them constantly shadowing my every step. Podaxis tried to talk me out of it and wouldn’t be persuaded to come. So I left on my own. I returned to the pub, ordered another ale, and quickly learned the first benefit of being chaperoned by my brothers. There was a thing called money and I didn’t have it. The barkeep asked me to leave, but a man saved me from my embarrassment by sliding a few chips across the bar. When I went to thank my rescuer, I saw it was Luther, the boy I was told to stay away from. I thanked him and had every intention of leaving it at that. But curiosity struck me again, and I wanted to see what was so bad about this young human man. So, when he asked me to have a drink with him, I agreed. One drink turned into two, two turned into many, and many turned into a very enjoyable evening. I stayed out with Luther all night, talking, drinking. I even attempted a dance, much to my embarrassment. When the sky began to lighten, I knew I had to come back to my lagoon before anyone found me missing. That’s when Luther walked me home.”
My pulse pounds and my head begins to feel light. I lean back and close my eyes, letting myself sink into the firmness of the tree trunk. All the while, Dorian’s warm grip serves as an anchor as the memories replay in my mind, as bright as if they were yesterday.
“He walked me all the way to my lagoon, where I bid him goodnight. He, however, didn’t seem to want our time together to end. Instead, he lingered, delivering compliments and sweet words that made me feel as if I were the most beautiful creature that lived. He asked me about my sealskin, said he was willing to bet it was as pretty as me. I thought nothing of it when he begged me to show it to him. So I did. I took it out from its hiding place under the nearby rocks and let him examine it, all the while keeping my grip firm around it. Then he thanked me and asked for a kiss.”
I nearly choke on the last word. I probably shouldn’t have said it. I probably shouldn’t be saying any of this. There’s too much truth, too much—
Dorian’s thumb slides over the side of my hand, and my panic begins to lessen. He says nothing, doesn’t prod me to continue. Maybe that’s why I do.
“I didn’t kiss him, not at first,” I whisper, feeling ice crawl up my spine. “Instead, I offered him a hug. It was my first hug in seelie form, and I liked it. Liked the way he held me tight, the way he ran his hands over my back and through my hair. I liked it too much. Felt lost in the embrace. So lost, in fact, that it took me several seconds to feel my sealskin sliding from my hands. At first, I thought I’d dropped it, but when I opened my eyes and pulled away, I saw he was clutching it behind his back. I met his eyes and saw an expression I’d never seen before. Something cruel and cold and calculating. Before I could comprehend what was happening, he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. They were hard and forceful, like he thought a kiss would erase what I saw him doing. And that’s when I understood it. He was stealing my sealskin. Rage tore through me, and hate boiled my blood. That’s when—”
I stop myself just in time. Just before I could admit the one thing Dorian can never know. My heart hammers in my chest, pounding from my story. I take a few steadying breaths, choosing my words with care. “I killed him. It was an accident, but I unwittingly used fae magic and ended his life.”
Silence hangs between us in the wake of my story. Hidden beneath my truth is what I’ve left unsaid. That I killed Luther with a kiss. That one moment he was trapping me against his unyielding lips, and the next, I kissed him back, kissed him with a force that almost felt like passion. I’m not even sure why I did it. I was furious at what he was doing, but all I could think was to take control of the situation, deepen the kiss, maybe even enjoy it in all my rage before I stole back my skin. But I never needed to try and steal it back. Soon after I kissed him, he staggered away as if I’d struck him. Then he choked, coughed until his face turned blue. Died at my feet with my sealskin still clutched in his hands.
My tone darkens. “So, yes, Dorian, I know exactly what it means to be disgusted with myself for something I’ve done while not knowing whether I should regret it. Luther, it turns out, was known for stealing sealskins from selkies and selling them. Had he succeeded, and had I not been wearing human clothing, I would have died when the sun rose. My father easily took the blame for what I’d done, for even attempting such a crime is punishable by death. And yet…it doesn’t change what I did.”
Finally, Dorian moves. Keeping my hand in his, he angles his head toward me. “You did nothing wrong.”
I meet his gaze. “Maybe you didn’t either.”
He shakes his head. “You should hate me for trying to hide my past.”
“How can I hate you for it? You don’t see me confessing to anyone else about my prior crimes.”
“Yes, but I’ve been trying to hide my past from the woman I’m supposed to marry. I’m courting a woman of fae blood while omitting the fact I killed one of her own kind.”
I frown as unanswered questions rise to the surface of my mind. “Why are you trying to hide who you are, anyway? You’ve claimed sanctuary. You’re safe from punishment for crossing the border until your term is over.”
He shifts his stance against the tree, expression agitated. Although, I’m not sure it’s because of me. “Father Viktor insisted we make no attempt to reveal my past. We aren’t exactly hiding it. I’m still using my own name. I will not lie about the truth if I’m directly asked. But that was one of the terms I agreed to when Viktor laid out his plan to help me. In exchange for the church’s aid in securing me a bride, I would participate in their efforts to improve their reputation. Making it public that they’re harboring a killer doesn’t quite do that, does it? Thankfully, the Alpha Council hasn’t publicly outed me. I’m sure that’s due to me keeping it a secret that my ship was attacked by fae creatures. Mutual secrets make for a tense alliance, I suppose.”
I wonder what that means about us. We now share each other’s darkest secrets. Are we allies now? Something…more? I don’t voice these questions. Instead, I ask, “What do you mean about the church wanting to improve their reputation?”
He doesn’t answer right away. “Saint Lazaro isn’t what I expected it to be. When I made plans to come home, I knew there was a chance my ship would be intercepted. Or that my case would be rejected at Vanmar Island. My sisters told me in their letters that locals still talk about me. Still scorn me. Still debate over my guilt. Pleading for aid from Saint Lazaro was supposed to be my last resort, one I knew I’d have to use as soon as my ship was attacked. My father had been well-respected amongst the church’s ranks when he was alive, and I thought the fae-hating church would secretly praise him as a hero. But I was wrong. When I woke up in the church’s infirmary, I told them who I was. Who my father was. I expected to see awe in Father Viktor’s eyes. Instead, he looked repulsed. I begged him to help me, but he offered only sanctuary, nothing more.”
I’m surprised by this. I too would have thought the church held Astern Ariko as their secret hero, but I must admit the church isn’t quite what I expected it to be either. Yes, they harbor some strange ideas about the fae, some that make my skin crawl. But…they don’t seem to hate my kind the way I thought they did.
“It took a full day to get him to even speak to me again,” Dorian says. “When he did, he started to relent. He begrudgingly accepted the idea that I could help the church. He told me how, while I’d been living in Bretton, the Church of Saint Lazaro declined in popularity year after year. Their numbers dwindled. The majority of Faerwyvae’s people—humans and fae alike—couldn’t forgive the church for the rebellions they stirred. The only hope for the church to proliferate was when the brothers took an Order and married. Still, the brothers weren’t often seen as desirable, especially in this city where pleasure and desire can be found in far less daunting places than a church. Father Viktor told me all about their efforts to bring the church into the modern era of Lumenas, hosting parties that no one attended, putting on bridal pageants no one participated in. That’s what he realized I could help with. Or my face, at least.” His tone falls flat at this last part.
“Your face,” I echo.
