Page 93 of Whispers of the Water

“No, no. Stay,” I said, wiping at tears. “I’m fine. I was just worried about you and everyone else.”

I told her what Myra had said, and she groaned. “Shit. I thought I was out of their sight range. I was trying to get close enough to confirm the identities of those in the house. We haven’t been able to I.D. anyone other than the group you came with, Yasmine Cashing, and Aidan Lovehue.”

“Well, don’t worry about identifying anyone. Stay back from the house. Please. I can’t even think about what would happen if you were caught.”

“As you wish, Princess.”

Letting out a breathy laugh, I rolled my eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“Yeah, yeah. No formal shit. Blah, blah, blah.”

Taking a deep breath, I smiled into the mouthpiece. “I love you, Dallas.”

“I love you too, my little strudel doodle.”

“Much better.”

We hung up, and relief settled deep within my bones. Everything was fine. She was fine, the group was fine. We only had two days left of this trip, so as long as they stayed back from the property as I’d instructed, there shouldn’t be any more issues. They’d stayed hidden with only one slip up for this long. They could avoid being spotted for two more days.

“Are you okay?” Rune asked as he squatted in front of me.

“Yes. Thank you. Sorry about your kitchen sink and for freaking out. I just—”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I get it. You were worried about your friend. I’m just glad everyone is safe and away from the house.”

“Me too. Hopefully, they stay away for the remainder of the trip. What are you going to do about Myra? She’s expecting you to bring back …”

Rune shrugged. “I’ll tell her I didn’t see anyone when I went looking.”

I slowly nodded, though my mind was already moving on to new worries. It hadn’t truly hit me until right then that my being here put me and my whole Water Fae team at risk. As Princess, my life was tied to so many others. Dallas, Rance, Imani, everyone. My safety and their safety were linked. From now on, I had to think about more than just my own well-being as I traversed the world. That realization had the weight of a thousand lives falling onto my shoulders, and it took every ounce of strength to not let myself crumble beneath the load.

After a moment of silence, Rune asked, “Do you want to do something? Just the two of us?”

Sensing that Rune was looking for a distraction for me, I met his eyes and processed his words. Quirking a brow, I glanced at the bed. “Just us two?”

Chuckling, he grabbed my hands and helped me to my feet. “Not what I had in mind. At least, not right now. I was referring to something else.”

“Oh.” I tried to not sound disappointed, but judging by his smirk, I failed. Clearing my throat, I asked, “What did you have in mind?”

“I thought we could go to my room.”

Confused, I looked around the bedroom. “I know I spaced out for a minute, but I’m pretty sure this is our room.”

“I said my room. As in, my old bedroom from when I lived here.”

Curiosity and sudden excitement had me nodding with wide eyes. “Yes. Yes!”

I followed him out of the room and realized we were just going down the hall. We came to the same door I’d seen Rune enter on our very first day here.

“I never let anyone into this room.” Rune looked back at me and continued, “I keep the room locked and off limits from everyone. It’s … sacred, I guess. It’s a tomb, really, of the past. My past.”

My heart clenched tightly, and I waited with bated breath as he slipped a key into the lock and turned. Swallowing hard, I clasped my hands in front of me as he held the door open.

Shelves lined one expanse of the wall, and books filled each of the ebony planks. The small ones contained poetry, short stories, fables, and plays. Thick tomes held works of art, reciting lost stories from eons ago or handwritten accounts in foreign languages, as well as books on architecture. The dust coating their crinkled, yellow pages was like a blanket, keeping them preserved for when their master came home.

Trinkets littered the floor and small tables throughout the room. Blueprints with elaborate sketches of buildings, envelopes with foreign stamps that looked like they held letters, and a vase of preserved flowers. Everything seemed so personal, so fragile, so bittersweet. But nothing tugged at me the way one side of the room did.

As I turned toward the one bare wall, my chest grew tight. The dark blue paint had cracked in places over the years, and cobwebs took residence in the corners. The naked expanse of plaster would have felt out of place in the room full of treasures if it hadn’t held one thing. I took slow, measured steps as the threat of tears built. Tacked in the center of the wall was a picture frame.

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