“I think it’s time that you moved on,” I say, suddenly very focused on my eggs. “You can sleep here one more night, if you’d like, but you should leave first thing tomorrow.”
“Fair enough.” Finn sighs. “As much as I’ve enjoyed captivity, I assumed our arrangement couldn’t last forever.”
I search his expression. Have I offended him? That’s not my intention. Even as I send him away, my whole body aches for proximity. “Where will you go?”
“Back home to Crown City. I’ll tell them I didn’t have any luck retrieving Damien, and if he hasn’t turned up by then, I suppose I’ll organize a search party.”
“I hope you find him.”
“I’m sure we will.”
We tuck into our food. As we eat, I’m conscious of his body beside mine. His arms, now free of their restraints, are coltish. I focus on tucking my elbows to avoid brushing him accidentally. I can’t tell if he’s preoccupied with the same concern. After we finish, I check his bandages and try very hard not to think about his eyes on me as I work.
“You shouldn’t need more of this.” I finish applying the salve on his chest. “You’ll have some scarring, I think. But you’ll be back to full mobility.”
His eyebrows rise. “I’m all better?”
“It would appear so.”
Finn buttons his shirt back up. “Well then, how are we going to enjoy my newfound freedom before you kick me out of here for good?”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“We’ve been cooped up for weeks,” he says. “Don’t you want to get out?”
I can’t tell him that going out is something I wouldn’t be doing even if I hadn’t spent the last couple weeks watching him. “You’re feelingthatmuch better?” I say instead.
“You’re the one who said I’m fine.”
“It…it could be dangerous,” I counter weakly.
Finn just rolls his eyes. “Come on, Lyria,livea little.”
I let the words wash over me, my chest twisting. Isn’t that exactly what I’ve envied? That he was living a big, beautiful life while I was stuck here, inthispitiful existence? I’ve been alive for eighteen years, but how much of that wasliving? What does that even mean? Am I brave enough to find out?
If I am damned, it might as well be thoroughly.
“Finn,” I ask shyly, “do you know how to swim?”
The path winds north from the cottage, hugging the base of the mountain. We follow a trail that clings to a rocky shelf, splitting the dark forest floor. Evergreens sweep sky-high overhead. As we come around a bend, the path levels and then drops into a canyon. We scramble together toward the base, where the waterfall spills off a cliff before plummeting into the pool below. I scurry to the edge and shuck off my shoes and apron, but I keep my kerchief on. Finn catches up to me as I tug off my left sock.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” he screams over the roaring around us.
“GETTING IN!”
I peel my overdress off my shoulders, stripping down to an ivory slip. Finn quickly looks away—his cheeks flaming—and words seem to hover over his soundless lips before he turns back to me. His reaction sends sparks through me that have nothing to do with my Talent. There’s a different kind of power in learning I can make him blush.
Giving him a wicked grin, I run into the pool—the river is fed by glacier runoff; I scream as the icy water hits my burning skin. Half pain, half relief.
Finn composes himself and throws off his tunic to hurry in after me. We swim fast through the neck-high water. I lead him to a part of the rocks where you can scramble up and stand beneath the driving waterfall. I go first. Finn follows, panting by the time he finally catches up to me.
“YOU DO THIS A LOT?”
“YEAH!”
We bask there together for a moment, trembling under the onslaught. My smile is uncontrollable. Standing with him under the water, I can’t recall a time I’ve felt so happy, felt sofree. Then—without warning—Finn reaches out and takes my hand.
His expression mirrors my joy. His grip feels familiar, like the handle of a favorite blade, or a familiar branch of a climbing tree. I could stand here forever. The moment feels rare and miraculous, like a brief glimpse of sunlight through the clouds. We wait under the torrent until I think my chest might explode. I’m the first to break away, splashing into deeper water. Better not get used to the feeling. There’s no sense in pining after what you can’t have.
