38. The Stolen Bride
With my heart pounding in my ears, I turned and ran. All I wanted was to leave this wretched island and forget I had ever laid eyes on Forrest.
I could hear him calling my name, but I didn’t turn back. I was afraid if I looked at him, I would change my mind. I didn’t want to change my mind. He had lied to me. He had betrayed me. All I wanted was to go home.
I ran down the castle steps and then I stopped.
There was only one way off the island—fae intervention. If I called Forrest, maybe he would help. He had freed me, but I couldn’t face him, not now.
So, I called for the only fae I thought might help me, ”Hawthorne!”
The man with golden eyes appeared before me in seconds. He stood firmly with his broad shoulders and heavy stance, taking in my tear-streaked face, wild hair, and dirtied gown. He wrapped me in his warm embrace. ”What’s wrong, princess?” he asked.
”It’s Forrest. Our engagement is over. I need to leave.”
”He freed you from your bond?” he asked curiously.
I looked back over my shoulder. ”Yes.”
”And you wish to leave?” Hawthorne glanced back over his shoulder. If I had been paying more attention to him and less to my heartbreak, I might have noticed the uncharacteristically cruel glint to his smile.
”Please, he’s coming. I can’t”—my voice broke pitifully—”I just can’t face him. Not now.”
He held out his hand and offered a small, simple seashell. ”Take this.”
Forrest was closer now, just a dozen or so steps away. I could hear him moan, ”Please, Georgia.”
I felt like my heart was being cleaved in two.
No, I couldn’t stay. Not like this. Not anymore.
I snatched the shell from Hawthorne’s outstretched hand.
To my surprise, there was no time to consider my choice. There was no time to say thank you either. A gust of wind encircled me like a tornado, and moments later, I landed frightened but unharmed on the wooden deck of a sailboat.
I clutched at my heart. ”Oh, my stars. Where am I?”
I sat up and looked around, feeling dazed. I was alone on a small sailboat in the middle of the ocean. I looked down at my palm where Hawthorne had pressed a small, simple shell. A faerie circle. I had no idea one could be contained in such a small object.
I looked out at the mist-shrouded island. There was no turning back now. There was only one thing to do.
Sail home.