Page 5 of The Jester

My body has stiffened beneath his touch. Memories are clawing to be noticed, but I do my best to ignore them and force myself to stroke his forearm in return. “I’ll be thinking of you.” I step back and look into his eyes.

For the first time in one hundred years, I stare into his beautiful eyes. But they are not the same as they were. The magic is gone. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly.

He frowns and tucks his index finger beneath my chin. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

There are so many things I want to say – things I was never allowed to say because he couldn’t bring himself to be anywhere near me after I broke him. But that would be selfish. So, instead, I shake my head, laugh, and say, “I’m sorry tonight is hard for you.”

Kayan’s smile falters. “I’m fine,” he says, a little stiffly.

“You’re strong.” I slip my hand into his.

He looks down, and I wonder whether he is seeing a version of Rosalie who wears golden gloves or if he sees her hands – long, lithe fingers, turquoise and gold rings, soft palms.

“You have survived so much.” I keep his gaze for as long as I can before forcing myself to look away. Over my shoulder, I pretend I have seen someone I need to speak to, then stroke his cheek one last time, tell him I will find him later, and hurry into the shadows beyond the bonfire.

From here, I watch, tears rolling down my cheeks and slicking the inside of my mask.

The rules of the enchantment are that the recipient of the spell should forget they have seen me – or the person they thought I was – as soon as I am out of sight. So, when the real Rosalie comes into view, skipping over to Kayan with her broad smile and her bouncy blond hair, he greets her as if for the first time.

Everything is working as I intended it to. He embraces her the way he embraced me a moment ago. He kisses her neck the way he kissed mine. Except, the real Rosalie does not react to him the way I did. She giggles, lightheartedly punches him on the arm, then flits into the air and circles him, flirting with every fibre of her slim blond body.

Kayan’s jaw twitches and he swallows forcefully. He cannot fly anymore. And, although I’m sure she means it in fun, to an outsider it looks almost as if she is taunting him with this knowledge.

Rosalie never did think about things the way I did; could never anticipate others’ emotions the way I can.

Eventually, as they start to embrace, I tear myself away, return to the stream, and follow it in the direction of the waterfall.

I have no idea why tonight, of all nights, it is this place I am drawn to. It holds so many memories that – for an entire century – I have avoided it. And yet, it is as beautiful now as it was then.

Shimmering in the moonlight, the pool is crystal clear, disturbed only by the water that cascades down the rocky face of the falls. As I approach, the mist catches the light and creates an ethereal veil between forest and falls.

I walk to the water’s edge and let my bare toes caress the smooth pebbles.

It all looks exactly the same. But so much is different.

I am so different.

Chapter Three

KAYAN

ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO

I will never stop being transfixed by the way her freckles look in the moonlight. Not that she isn’t beautiful in daylight, too. But like this... under the shadow of the trees that line the pool, she is incredible. Perhaps because this is one of her favourite places; one of the few places she can be still and quiet without the clamour of other peoples’ feelings pressing down upon her.

“You know what amazes me about you?” I speak before I can stop myself, aware I sound like a soppy, lovesick young fae but unable to make myself care because tonight I have to tell her how I feel or I fear I might never be able to speak to her ever again. Even though I’m sure she knows – she’s an empath, how could she not know? – I have to say it. I have to speak the words out loud, so I am not in any doubt about whether she reciprocates or not.

Alana stops, wriggling her toes into the gaps between the smooth pebbles on the shore. “My talent for skimming rocks?” She picks one up and throws it with perfect aim and skill so it skips and hops across the surface before disappearing a few feet in front of the falls.

I tilt my head and try to stifle a smile. So many in our village see her as weak, but I know the truth. She is strong – physically and mentally – and she has so much more power than she realises. “Well, there is that.” I try to skim a stone and fail miserably. As it falters partway across the pond, I feel my wings flicker and the familiar swell of cool, tingling energy swirling in my veins – water inside my blood. Stepping stones of water bubble up to help my pebble all the way to the other side of the water.

“That’s cheating.” Alana frowns at me and folds her arms in front of her stomach.

“What amazes me,” I say, scuffing my foot on the ground as I tuck my hands into my pockets, “is that I still feel like I’m finding out new things about you even after all this time.” I look up, meeting her eyes. “We’ve known each other our entire lives. But you still surprise me, Alana.”

For a moment, she holds my gaze, but then she tucks a strand of auburn hair behind her ear and turns away. Focusing her attention on the lake, she says, “I wish I could surprise everyone else.”

A sigh makes her shoulders ripple. I want to reach out, put my arm around her, and pull her into a tight embrace. But I can’t. That’s not what we do.

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