I stay in the water until my body calms down, until I can stand up without embarrassing myself. Then I wade out, grab my clothes from where they’re drying on a rock, and pretend not to notice the way the others look at me.
Oberon is the one who breaks the silence. “Well,” he grunts. “You survived.”
“Barely,” I say.
He looks at the cuts on my arms, the marks that I’m sure are brutal on my neck. “What happened down there?”
I tell them. About the house, the chain, the merman, the fight. I leave out the parts that belong to Alette, her fear, her panic, the way she never gave up even when it was hopeless. I don’t know why, but it feels like hers. I want to keep it safe. And I don’t hesitate to tell them who delivered the final blow. They need to know the strength the little human in front of them has.
When I finish, there’s a pause, then, “We knew you were tough,” Sylvian teases Alette. “Not murderer tough, but tough.”
Then Ashton whistles low. “She doesn’t surprise me. Him though? Didn’t know you had it in you.”
I shrug. “I’m King of the Water Fae. The water is my domain.” But for some reason I want to say, “Alette is mine to protect.”
Sylvian claps me on the shoulder. “You did good, Cassius.”
It’s the first time he’s used my name without sarcasm.
Oberon looks away, but I see the grudging respect in his posture.
They don’t say it, but it’s there. A growing mutual respect that’s been developing between the four of us since we started this little adventure. It’s like a tangible thing, something that will leave an echo within us even when we return to our royal lives.
Alette gets up and walks over to me. She’s shivering, arms wrapped around her chest. She looks at the ground, then at my face.
“Thank you,” she says.
I want to say something clever, something that’ll make her smile, but all I manage is, “Anytime.”
She stands there, looking at me, and I swear I see something in her eyes. It’s not fear or relief. Instead, I see something closer to what I feel, which scares me. It’s a tugging from her to me, a desire to hold one another and never let her go, and I hope I’m not crazy for thinking I see my own feelings in her too.
Ashton comes over and stands at her side. “We should go,” he says softly.
I nod.
They gather all their clothes, shoes, and bags, including Alette’s, and then we walk together, the five of us, up from the lake and back onto the path in the hedges. I keep close to Alette, just in case, but she doesn’t need my help. She’s safe now. Fromall of it. And it’s hard to resent the others when I know she’s safer with the four of us.
She glances at me, and her hand brushes mine. I catch it, just for a second, before letting go.
I walk with the others, but for the first time I don’t feel alone. I feel… something else. A feeling that’s frighteningly close to love.
She goes around the curve of the hedge, clearly to get dressed. The others are all pretending not to want to watch, but I can tell they’re dying to look. Even Oberon, who’s usually above such things, has his ears cocked for the sound of her footsteps on the gravel. Sylvian hums a dirty tune just loud enough to make Ashton scowl. Ashton himself has the decency to glare at the horizon, but he sneaks glances whenever he thinks we’re not looking.
“Might as well get dressed,” I say.
It’s funny. I can see it in their faces. They never even considered that.
The three men start changing, while I keep my eyes on the ground, but my mind is busy. I’m thinking about the way her skin looked underwater, how every bruise and scrape is proof of what we survived. I’m thinking about how the last thing I tasted before I surfaced was her mouth. I’m thinking about what it would be like to have her, really have her, somewhere warm and safe, not just in the panic of escape. I’m trying not to think about what happens when this is over, who she’ll choose, if she gets to choose.
She comes back around the hedge in her leather clothes and blushes when she sees the men dressing. “Uh—sorry.”
“We’re almost done,” Ashton says, flashing her a flirtatious smile.
I really need to punch that guy.
Sylvian, who is never shy, turns around and grins at her, hair still dripping onto his shoulders. “You clean up nicely, Alette.”
She blushes, but it’s a good blush, the kind that says she’s not feeling humiliated. “I need my socks and shoes. You guys brought my bag?”
