Chapter 18 #2
The rest of the group hurried around them, lighting torches and candles, and arranging a stunning array of food on cloth spread over the ground. In all her wildest imaginings, Mireille would never have guessed that her bargain would lead there, a moonlit picnic in a deadly forest.
And then there was the pool, magical waters in which she would be submerged, a symbol of her acceptance of the land and its power as her life merged with its prince. She resisted the urge to look for Alder, who had promised he would be near, watching on should any of it go sideways.
Nisha squeezed the hand she’d been holding, then released it. “I’ll fetch us something to drink.”
When she returned with two long-stemmed glasses, the rest of the preparations seemed nearly done.
Mireille took a sip of the sharp, citrusy punch then drew a breath of crisp night air.
A fire had been built near the edge of the mere, a relief, given that she was meant to step into water, but she was beginning to doubt her bravery.
She had vowed to do anything for her kingdom. Surely walking into an ominous midnight pool would be the least of it. And as vexing as Nisha could be, the prince clearly cared about her and about the ritual. It must have been important, and in the end, they plainly expected her to remain safe.
Nisha led Mireille to one of the cloths bedecked with silver tureens of roast venison, bright steamed vegetables, and sourdough bread.
It smelled as wonderful as any feast she’d ever attended, though that may have been owing to the arduous trek.
Settling onto the ground, wine in one hand and plate in the other, Mireille finally felt the return of warmth.
“Now,” Nisha said. “Tell us exactly how you and my brother came to fall in love.”
Mireille nearly choked. The others watched with interest.
“Go on,” Nisha pressed. “Declare your intentions to us and to the moon. Your words will not leave this circle.”
To be sure, the circle was not Mireille’s chief concern, it was Alder, possibly listening nearby from the shadows. Clearing her throat, she set aside her plate.
Nisha frowned. “You do love him, do you not? At the announcement, he implied it was a love match.”
Mireille had watched fae slide a lie cleverly around the truth, certainly by now she could do it too. She forced a shaky laugh. “Well, I am marrying him and giving up my kingdom, after all. It would be absurd not to love him, all things considered.”
Nisha’s posture eased, but her clear expectation did not.
“I suppose my feelings for him changed from the first night we danced. We were alone in a moonlit ballroom, soft music coming in through the windows...” She sighed at the memory, because it seemed so long ago, and was not unaware that her audience had taken it as wistful longing.
“It was just the two of us, no thought of responsibility, only the melody and the steps. It’s such a rare thing as the head of a kingdom.
As a girl, I cherished such moments when my father gave them to me.
” Lips pursed, she tried to recall what else she might share.
“And then later, again when we found ourselves alone, walking through such beautiful gardens, speaking low of the things that matter most to us. You can tell a lot about a person when there are no crowds, no courtiers to impress.”
The fae women leaned in, hanging on her every word, and Mireille struggled to find more that was safe to share.
At the very least, she could toy with the man at bit, should he be listening.
She said, “At the outset, he seemed so gruff, but it turns out he was never surly at all. He’s quite gentle under all that starch and frippery.
Like a sugarplum.” That drew a chuckle from the group, but they did not seem sated.
“Of course, he has a great many duties, and would never succumb to idle pleasures, but he’s, well he can be generous and giving. So entirely thoughtful that he?—”
Mireille’s words cut off, her face gone hot.
She’d nearly detailed the dream gown for an audience.
Perhaps she’d had too much punch. The women seemed too close, but so did the moon.
Or, perhaps it was the influence of fae magic, because she had surely not just been going on about the prince in front of both him and a crowd. She glanced at the prince’s sister.
Nisha’s grin was wicked, and more than a little satisfied. She stood, offering Mireille her hand. “Come. It’s time.”
* * *
At the water’s edge, they removed their boots. Nisha stood beside Mireille, and barefoot, they walked together toward the pool, the rest of the fae watching from the bank.
The water was so cold Mireille gasped. She spared a moment to think of Thomas, warm by the fire in his chambers but probably worried sick. She hoped they’d been right to tell him she was safe, and she hoped their time away had given him a chance to complete the favor she’d asked of him.
Water closed around her legs, filling her with the sensation of movement. If it was magic, it was a gentle sort, like the wisteria tree. It seemed to promise it would not harm her, even if it smelled a bit of bad cabbage.
And she had just gone and blindly trusted it, the way she had trusted everything Alder said.
The crash of breaking glass was followed by female shouts and screams. Nisha spun, grabbing hold of Mireille’s wrist. A monstrous shadow with strange glimmering eyes flung one of the fae ladies aside, then another as the woman rushed it with a violent cry.
It was a thing of nightmares, nothing like the creature that had attacked Mireille on her first night.
It stood taller than any man, its claws formed entirely of darkness.
The thing’s eyes never came off Mireille.
There was no question it was there for her as it released a hungry growl and lunged toward the pool.
Nisha shoved Mireille behind her, then leapt toward the creature, transforming mid-air not into a slender mink, but a sleek and massive beast, as large as a lion and jaws spread wide.
The shadow creature shrieked. Nisha’s cat-like claws sunk into its chest, and they both splashed down into the water.
The force of their impact shoved Mireille back and into a deeper pool.
She tried to kick out but could no longer reach the earth beneath.
Unseen hands pressed her suddenly down, beneath the surface and into complete darkness.
Body spinning, she couldn’t find which way was up.
She inhaled a lungful of earthy water. She’d always been a strong swimmer, but her limbs floated uselessly, the weight pressing around her somehow far more than any sea.
A hand closed around her wrist.
She was jerked to the surface, gasping and choking the instant they broke through. She felt Alder behind her, one arm wrapped around her waist as she heaved out water.
When the heaving subsided, he brought her to the water’s edge.
Throat burning, eyes blurry, Mireille searched out the creature that had attacked.
It was nowhere on the bank. Nisha, in her human form and dripping with both water and something thick and dark, scowled at Alder. “I had it under control.”
Mireille glanced back at the water, and saw, finally, the shadow creature unmoving, its skin smooth and onyx, the magic that had surrounded it gone.
“She nearly drowned.” Alder’s voice was cold, the rumble of it flush against Mireille’s back, his arms still around her.
“I was handling it,” Nisha repeated.
“We will argue at the palace.”
Nisha appeared to want to argue right then and there, but with one look at Mireille, hanging wet and limp in Alder’s grip, she nodded sharply instead.