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He moved along the base of the cliff, brushed aside the overgrowth behind the fallen tree, and disappeared into the dark mouth of the tunnel. I had found the passage by accident at fifteen while hiding from a thunderstorm, and I had never spoken of it to anyone. The grove had been generous with its secrets, and I repaid it with silence.

I smoothed my dress, more out of habit than for appearance. He would emerge from the tunnel soon, and the fabric was already loosened from the climb.

“Well, Your Majesty,” I murmured to the empty clearing, “let us see in what specific form fate might reunite us.”

To pull myself fully onto the upper ledge, I hiked my skirts higher than was modest. I owned three dresses, and this one, humble as it was beside his clothing, was my finest. I wore it for temple offerings and for the rare days when something felt worth marking. I had chosen it today because the morning carried that weight. The contrast between his royal velvet and my carefully patched cotton was sharp, but I had not worn it to compete with him. I wore it because it was mine.

When I straightened up at the top, he was already waiting.

He had come through the tunnel faster than expected, standing at the edge of the upper clearing with his hands clasped behind his back, watching me arrive. I had not anticipated how the space would look with him in it. I had been climbing here for years, never imagining another person standing on this ledge. Now the ruler of the empire stood beside the upper pool, the waterfall dropping over the cliff to my left, filling the quiet sanctuary of my past with his presence.

He bowed.

“The universe is kind to me,” he said. “It seems the most beautiful fae princess has chosen to grace me with her appearance in this magical place.”

I laughed at the silliness of the words, but the compliment registered beneath the joke, particularly the part about my hair. The fae of the old stories were said to possess striking, unusual coloring. I had been teased for it in the village, though older women who remembered the tales told me I had been blessed. I never believed them, for too many conflicting things had been said about my hair over the years to give weight to any single meaning.

“I must disappoint Your Majesty,” I said. “I am only a humble peasant girl who cannot afford to ruin her clothes, but who needs refreshment after the climb.”

“Then I suggest,” he said, “that you do not deny yourself. Refresh yourself, my lady. I will stand guard to ensure nothing befalls you during your bath.” He paused, his gaze shifting. “Though I suggest you come down first, so you might prepare yourself properly.”

His eyes followed the cliff face down to the lower edge of the pool. He realized then what I had known when I climbed up. There was no path down from the upper ledge except the way I intended to take.

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. His expression shifted from controlled composure to genuine alarm, a sudden reaction that felt more valuable than any formal courtesy he had offered all morning.

“Wait. Liora.” The playful courtier vanished, leaving only Drystan looking at me as he calculated the distance to the water below. “How are you planning to come down?”

* * *

I reached for the buttons of my dress and undid them slowly. He watched every movement, his eyes fixed on me in the full light of day. I had never undressed before a man with such deliberation. Any past undressing had been the practical necessity of a village girl washing in the river alongside other women, never imagining a gaze like the one Drystan held on me now.

I pulled the dress over my head, standing in the simple white linen shift I wore beneath. It was modest by the standards of my home, yet intimate in the presence of an emperor. The wind moved across my skin, carrying small petals across the surface of the upper pool.

I bunched the fabric into a ball and tossed it down to him.

He caught it and brought the cloth to his face. The movement was almost involuntary, his hand rising before he thought to stop it, pressing the fabric against his nose and mouth to inhale. The dress was still warm from my skin. His chest expanded as he drew in the scent, his eyes closing briefly as his composure wavered in the quiet of the grove.

A shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with the cool air.

I had taken this dive countless times. My body remembered the motion, my feet knew the edge, and my arms found their position naturally. Stepping to the lip of the upper pool, where the water carved a shallow basin into the rock before spilling over the cliff, I looked down into the silver-blue depth below.

My fingers touched the pendant at my throat, the small silver disc on its simple chain that was all my mother had left me. I touched it as I always did before moments of consequence. I did not know its origin. My mother had told me only to keep it, never to show it to anyone who did not love me, and that it was older than her. The words had meant little to a girl of sixteen, but the token remained the piece of her I carried into every significant moment. I touched the metal now, letting my body rely on what it knew.

I dove.

The motion was smooth and practiced, an arc through the air perfected in solitude where no one watched. The entry into the water was nearly silent as the warmth of the spring closed over my skin, drawing me beneath the surface.

I kicked off the rocky bottom and rose. Breaking the surface in the shallower part of the pool where the water reached my waist, I shook the wet hair from my face and stood.

Drystan remained at the lower edge on the grass, holding my dress in his hand.

The wet white linen clung to my skin, translucent in the morning light. I had known it would when I chose to keep the shift on for the dive, yet I did not cover myself or look away.

The intensity in his eyes when our gazes met sent another shiver through me.

I held his focus for a moment, then let the corner of my mouth lift.

“Your Majesty,” I said, “seems to be standing very far away from the refreshment he was so concerned about.”