Chapter 17
Seventeen
The scroll is spread across my lap, the charred edges whispering ash against my thighs as I once again go over the faded script. My back aches from sitting hunched in the sand outside the caravan, and every few minutes I slap at another invisible tickle crawling up my leg.
I’ve been out here for hours, but I can’t stop. Fortune’s last words keep replaying in my mind, a needle stuck in a groove:
…you cannot burn for that by which you are unwilling to be consumed.
“There has to be something,” I mutter to the empty dunes. “Something that opens the portal. That fixes everything and gets us home.”
A sting snaps against my arm. I scratch without thinking. Then another. Then five more in quick succession. My legs itch. My arms itch. My freaking eyelids itch.
“I brought you some water.”
I start, squinting up at Declan against the gold-drenched sky. His sun-kissed arms and tousled hair and concerned eyes—he’s too good-looking to be tracking my descent into Gollum territory.
He crouches beside me, gaze skating over the scroll and the scattered contents of my ritual pouch. “Everything going okay?”
“Define okay.” I wave weakly toward the scrap of paper, the sand, the entire kingdom. “I’m hot, itchy, probably dehydrated…” I groan, swatting at another invisible assailant.
He snags my hand and extends my arm. “Have you looked at yourself recently?”
I glance down and register the horror show of angry, red welts dotting my exposed skin.
“Shit.” The word doesn’t cover it. My fingers hover over the inflamed bumps. “This is bad. They’re everywhere. I look like I was swarmed. What do you think Zephara and Solara will say if I go onstage like this?”
“I think they’ll say you were bitten by sand fleas.” He shrugs. “Got me once on a family holiday in St. Barts. Thought I was going to be scarred forever. Cried in an apothecary shop. My mother still brings it up at Thanksgiving.”
“I don’t really have the right to freak out about a rash right now.” I swallow, and then, softer, “How is she?”
“Celine let me talk to her. You were right about that.”
I give a weak smile. “I know a teen girl crush when I see one.”
“Yeah.” He exhales. “Nessa’s with the healer. Said she’ll be back to singing by the full moon.”
“She’s going to be okay?” My voice comes out thin, shaky.
He nods. “She’ll be fine.”
Relief loosens my shoulders. I breathe out, a short laugh slipping free. It’s a small reprieve, and I let it be one—just for a second—before guilt returns, sliding cold into the center of my chest.
“Come on,” Declan says, pulling me to my feet. “I want to take you somewhere.”
I collect my things and tuck them into my purse as I slide it over my shoulder. Brow raised, I ask warily, “Where exactly are you taking me?”
“That would ruin the surprise.”
Sand slips beneath our feet, sun-warmed and soft as we climb over dunes.
By the time we crest the last hill, I’m out of breath.
The air cools as we make our way down toward the lush, tree-filled hollow hidden from the camp.
Palms cluster like guardians, and a spring-fed pool gleams at the center, rimmed in smooth black stone.
The water glows blue where streaks of sunlight pierce the canopy overhead, and mist curls from the surface in diaphanous threads.
“The Everspring. How did you know where to find it?”
Declan smirks. “I have my ways.”
“Which involve Tarek.”
“You know me too well.”
I bite my lip. Barely a week ago, Declan Thorne was just a guy in my DMs. A flirt. A fantasy. A series of emojis and late-night sexts that never promised anything real. While I’ve learned he’s much more than that, I don’t know him yet. Not as well as I want to.
Declan drags a hand through his hair, raking it off his forehead as he toes off his sandals.
He takes his time with his shirt. It clings to his shoulders, sweat-dark and stretched across muscle, and I swear time once again slows.
The sun gilds the planes of him—broad chest narrowing to a lean waist, the sharp V of his hips disappearing into his pants.
Cool air brushes my bare stomach, goose bumps rising in a wave as I drop my bag and join him, shrugging out of my silk wrap dress until I’m down to a red linen bra that ties around my neck and back with matching panties secured in knots at my hips.
The pool glows pale blue in the slivers of sunlight. I step in first, shivering as the water wraps around my calves. It’s cool and refreshing in a way that makes me gasp, Slowly, I lower myself in. The sandy bottom is soft and warm in places where the sun still lingers.
Declan wades in after me and immediately hisses through his teeth. “It’s cold. Why is it cold?”
“Were you hoping for a tepid bathwater lagoon?”
He lunges like he’s going to splash me, and I shriek, ducking beneath the surface in a rush of bubbles. When I pop up, his back is turned. I don’t hesitate. With a triumphant yell, I leap forward, grab him around the shoulders, and yank him under.
We surface, breathless, and he shakes himself off like a wet dog and grins. “Oh, so that’s how we’re playing?”
I nod, mockingly solemn, and splash him directly in the face. “You started it.”
That’s all the invitation he needs.
He scoops me up and spins me in a dizzying circle over his head before throwing me back into the pool.
We splash and shriek and wrestle like kids who have forgotten how to be guarded.
He springs up out of nowhere and catches me, laughing as his fingers close around my waist. I squirm out of his grip with a giggle and dive under again, swimming toward the edge of the pool like it might save me from the way his hands felt on my skin.
Leaning against the smooth rock ledge, I catch my breath. Declan joins me, his arm brushing mine as he settles in next to me.
“Okay,” he says after a beat. “Important question.”
I snort. “Shoot.”
“Truth or dare?”
I laugh so hard I can’t speak for a second. “Umm, truth.”
He tilts his head, gaze softening. “All right. Tell me the thing you’re most ashamed of. Something you wouldn’t tell your best friend.”
“We’re really getting into it, aren’t we?
” I force a wobbly smile. The reflex to deflect—tell a cute story, make a joke—bubbles up, but I push it right back down.
“Nessa,” I say finally, voice low. “I filled her with empty affirmations and let her think that’s what it meant to be brave.
I wanted validation more than I wanted to make sure she was safe. ”
He looks at me like he can see the scaffolding I built to hold myself upright, all the props and pretty rituals, and he doesn’t flinch.
“Okay, your turn,” I say, teasing, even though my voice is shaky at the edges. “Tell me something vulnerable so I don’t feel like I’m doing an emotional trust fall by myself.”
“There’s not much to say.” He shrugs.
“That can’t be true.” I dig my toes into the sand and watch our ripples join on the surface of the water. “Tell me how Declan Thorne became Declan Thorne.”
After a quiet, thoughtful moment he says, “My life’s been planned out since before I was born.
My mom couldn’t carry a baby to term. My parents eventually had to use a surrogate, but enough time passed, enough miscarriages happened…
I think she felt safer making sure every aspect of my life was mapped out.
Like she was ensuring my survival by making me tick these achievement boxes.
To me, all it’s done is turned life into a task, leached the color from the world, turned everything into shades of gray. ”
He draws in a breath. Lets it out slowly.
“My dad lives to make my mom happy. I swear he’s only in my life to be sure I follow the script, close the deals, hit the metrics, live for her happiness too.”
A dragonfly lands on the water, spreads its iridescent wings, then takes off again.
“That’s why no more rock climbing.”
“You remember that.” His smile lifts his stubbled cheeks, and the bright blue water reflects like starbursts in the dark pools of his eyes.
“Yeah, my mom found out I was really into climbing. I was good at it too. My dad made sure to put a stop to that.” He splashes his face with a handful of water and shakes it off.
“Parents, right? No matter how old you get, they always have a hold over you.”
“They’re not here now. As far as we know, they literally don’t exist in this world.” I shift, water lapping at my collarbone. “So, right now, what do you want out of life? To find some big rocks or—”
“You, Amanda. I want to be here. With you.”
Our eyes meet, and a delicate hush settles over us. One wrong move could shatter it. One right move could change everything.
Slowly, he reaches across the inches between us and threads his fingers through mine. His thumb presses into my knuckles in a small, steady punctuation as he draws me in until our bodies meet.
“Why?” I whisper. “Why do you want to be here with me?”
“You’ve turned my black-and-white world Technicolor.”
His hands slide down my waist. They pause at my hips, fingers curling into the softness. Then he moves lower, brushing over the curve of my ass in a way that makes my pulse skip.
He lifts me, pinning my back to the smooth ledge of the pool.
Water trickles down my shoulders as I straddle his waist, the heat of his body flooding into me through every slick point of contact.
His hands anchor just above my thighs, thumbs grazing the delicate knots of linen tied at my hips.
His eyes search mine, steady and molten and terrifying because of how much they see.
I’m trembling, and it has nothing to do with the cool brush of air on my wet skin.
Declan’s lips touch mine, and I fall into the kiss like kindling catching flame. A flare of heat, sudden and wild and hungry, licks up my spine, curls under my ribs, sparks between my legs. His mouth is warm and sure, every pass of his tongue over mine burning through me.