If my mother ends up having another child, they would be right around Nori’s age. Farron’s little sister has enteredserenage, the time when fae aging slows. Fae babies grow quickly, similar to our human counterparts. I remember Mom explaining it to me as some sort of defense mechanism. By about school age, everything slows. Fae remain children for decades, and teenagers for even longer. A fae with wrinkles and hair ofsilver has seen centuries. Though I’ve never met one, some say there are still fae alive who once lived in the Above.
“Until then, I think Decimus is happy to play chaperone,” I say, driving my knife down on a tall fern. “If Ma and Ovi have another baby, the three of us brothers would spoil them rotten.”
As I push the broken fern away, bright sunlight streams through, and the crash of waves welcomes us. We step out of the jungle onto a grassy cliff, looking out over the turquoise ocean.
I flash Farron a grin. “Told you I’d find our way out of there.”
“This doesn’t look like where we came in.” Farron turns in a circle, trying to get his bearings. “We didn’t enter near the sea.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll figure out where we are. I’ll have you back home and tucked into bed with a cup of tea and a boring book before your sunset bedtime.” As I give him a wink, he sticks his tongue out at me.
Seriously, though, I need to get my bearings. The last thing I want to do is get lost and embarrass myself in front of him. Quickly, I scan the horizon. It looks familiar. My eyes catch on a small sandy isle half a league offshore. There are four palm trees in a square, with the ones on the left and right bending toward the middle?—
“Maybe we can pinpoint our location based on the coastal topography.” Farron steps to the edge of the cliff.
I let out a strangled gasp and snatch Farron back by his undershirt.
“What’s wrong?” he cries.
“I know where we are. This water is cursed.”
“Cursed?” There’s a teasing glint in Farron’s gaze, but an underlying curiosity too.
I point to the isle, its outline clear against the cerulean sky. “See that? Legend has it Captain Katharine, the founder of Corsa Tuga, buried her most precious treasure on the isle and laid a curse on the water to protect it.”
“What kind of curse?” Farron asks, his voice softer now, more serious. He takes a step closer, his shoulder brushing against mine. My heart flutters, but I keep my focus on the story.
“A monster lurks in the depths,” I explain, unable to tear my eyes from his. “Even if you survive the hundred-foot jump into the ocean, don’t get dashed upon the rocks, and can swim through the current, it doesn’t matter. The creature will catch you.”
Farron shudders slightly, but it’s hard to tell if it’s from fear or the closeness of our bodies. “What kind of creature?”
“Some say it’s a kraken. Others claim it’s the ghost of the captain herself,” I continue, my voice low and steady. “But everyone agrees on one thing: no fae who has sought the treasure has returned.”
“Have you ever tried?”
“No.” I give a half laugh.
Farron raises a skeptical brow. “Jumping off cliffs into the ocean and tempting ghosts seems a very Dayton thing to do.”
“Despite your preconceived notions of me, I’m not that brave. Or foolish.”
Farron stays silent for a moment, then whispers, “Good. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
The weight of his words hangs between us. The sunlight catches the strands of his hair, making them glow like embers.
“Farron,” I start, but the words catch in my throat. Whatever this is, I need to stop it.
Farron’s leaving Summer soon. He’s heir to the throne of Autumn. And although he may not be a boring, snobby crybaby, one of my first impressions of him was correct.
Farron has a soft heart. I have no business holding onto something as fragile as that.
So, I laugh and slug him on the shoulder. “You’re hilarious. I’m agladiator.I face death every time I step onto the sands.”
Farron’s lip quivers, and he takes a long time answering. Then, he gives an awkward laugh and turns away from me. “I don’t know. Maybe you need something to make you brave enough to face the curse.”
“Like what?”
“Like a little push.” He playfully shoves me, not hard enough to be serious, but enough to make me stagger.
