Page 63 of A Magic Deep & Drowning

The bickering fell away at once as everyone looked up at Clara. Her voice was quiet but steady. “It is no great thing. I was supposed to be taken as a child, and I was not. I resolved to stay beneath the water and face the punishment ruled to befall my parents and my people, only leaving because I thought I could save the lives of those on land. But if my staying here serves as fodder for Thade’s vengeance even a little, then please, let me go back. I am tired,” she added, her voice finally breaking.

Maurits had never cared for Helma, who was always circling Clara like a sheepdog a lamb. The first time he’d seen Helma in the kitchen of Wierenslot he’d recognized her for what she was. Now though, as she tutted protectively about Clara, he felt a surge of gratitude that she was in his beloved’s life and would keep her safe where Maurits could not. Helma would not let Clara make such a foolish sacrifice.

“If that is your wish, sparrow,” Helma said, tears gathering in her eyes.

No, he was wrong. He hated Helma. She was as bad as the rest. The moss maidens bent their heads in unison, even thekabouters silent in their admiration. Everything was spiraling out of his control too fast.

Desperately, he caught the moss maiden’s attention, his racing thoughts hardly formed before she began translating for him.

“The prince... the prince escorts her,” she told the rest of the creatures. “It is his condition.”

Helma looked as if she wanted to argue, but she gave one look at Clara and her shoulders fell in a slump. “Very well. I may not trust your kind,” she told him, “but I trust your love for Clara. I give my little sparrow’s heart into your keeping, and trust that you will do everything in your power to protect her until she chooses to step into her fate.”

It was all he could do to give a tight nod. It wasn’t a satisfactory solution to the problem of Thade. It wasn’t any kind of solution. But everyone else was apparently satisfied, and so, one by one, the Old Ones left the way they had come. The widde juvven evaporated back into the mist, the moss maidens into the shadows of the leaves. The elves took flight, floating up into the canopy, until it was only Helma, Maurits, and Clara in the dusky trees.

Clara was standing very still, hands folded in front of her waist, the first rays of moonlight gently caressing the planes of her cheeks. If he were being honest with himself, none of his reasons for agreeing to accompany her were so noble. But being honest did not come naturally to him, and he only knew that he needed to be as close to her as possible, for as long as possible.

After a painful eternity, Helma cleared her throat and looked between them. “Well, I suppose you’ll be wanting me gone now,” she said, the tremble of her lip belying her flinty tone.

“Oh, Helma.” Clara threw herself at the older woman, wrapping her arms around her. “I never want you gone. If Iever said as much, you must know that I was only being very foolish and spoiled. You are my best friend.”

Maurits made a study of the moonlight through the tree branches while the two women said their goodbyes. He was sure Clara was too good for Helma, but he would not deny her the chance to say farewell to her friend.

When both of the women’s cheeks were streaked with tears, and they had finally pulled away from each other, Helma marched up to Maurits, stopping just in front of his tail. “You will take care of that girl.” She leaned in close, dropped her voice to a sharp whisper. “If there is even one thing that you can do to prevent this transaction, then you must do it. I do not know what it will take to stop Thade, and I do not believe that he will be satisfied with what he already vowed was not enough. Clara is a stubborn little mite, and her mind is made up. I cannot ask her to live with the guilt of knowing that she should have been taken when so many others were.” Helma threw an aching glance at where Clara was still standing, before leaning in closer and taking Maurits’s hand in her own. “But if you see even the slightest chance of saving her, you take it.”

It did not matter that Maurits had no voice, for even if he did, what could he say to that? Nodding, he tried to withdraw his hand, only for Helma to tighten her grip. “Even if it means forfeiting your life.”

Her gray eyes bore into him a moment longer, and then she was releasing his hand and striding back to Clara. Helma gave her one last hug, and then left them alone in the clearing together.

Clara watched her friend leave. When she could no longer make out the white swish of her skirt in the darkness, Clara finally turned back to where Maurits was still sitting on the rock, his tail swept to the side.

“Did you know that Helma was...” She searched for theright words, still unsure of what had just happened. “Did you know that she could summon the Old Ones?”

Maurits nodded, though his expression gave nothing away about what he thought of this.

“I suppose I should be hurt that she was not truthful with me all these years,” Clara said, toeing a small stone in the grass with her bare foot. “But then, all the stories she told me... maybe I allowed myself to grow out of the magic, the belief in them after I was a child. Maybe I would not have believed her, in any case.”

Loneliness crept in. Maurits made no move to come to her. If he had the power to shift his shape, he was not using it. It was too painful to admit to herself that she had been hoping for something more from their reunion, that after all the false starts and deceits that they would have some sort of perfect understanding when they finally saw each other again. “I am ready,” she told him, her voice flat.

Maurits slid off the rock, easily pushing himself up with his arms and slipping into the water. Color touched his cheeks, and he did not meet her eye until he was in the safety of the canal.

She swept her gaze over the clearing, committing to memory the sensation of the night breeze against her skin, the subtle smell of damp earth and distant woodsmoke. Even the knot of hunger in her belly was a reminder that she was human, that she was alive.

When she had finished bidding the land goodbye, she allowed Maurits to give her breath for the water. She crouched by the edge of the canal, and he tenderly lifted her in by her waist, bringing her down to him. His touch ignited her despite the cool bite of the water.

Her pulse fluttered beneath his fingers as cupped her jaw. He knew that he had been found out, and that Clara would not tolerate his breath in the form of a kiss again. But thewarmth in her eyes gave him hope that his touch was not altogether abhorrent to her. Without breaking her gaze, he slowly trailed his finger down the elegant line of her throat, stopping just above her collarbone in the delicate hollow where Thade had put a charm, but which now sat empty.

And then they were plunging below in a spray of bubbles and sparkling water as he took her back to the place he had vowed to save her from, and to the fate that awaited them both.

Chapter Forty

A soft green light was diffusing through the grotto, hazy orbs sparkling like the heralding of the widde juvven in the clearing. But no women materialized here. It was only Clara and Maurits, alone again. She quickly wriggled out of Maurits’s arms as they surfaced, and hauled herself up onto the rock before he could help her.

While she took a moment to wring out her skirt and put herself to rights, Maurits inventoried the grotto. He would have liked to have warm blankets and more of the comforts she was accustomed to already prepared for her down here. But there had been no time, and besides, he thought bitterly, she would not be here for long if she had her way. Instead, he rifled through his childhood collection for anything that might be useful to her, which was admittedly not much. A comb. A bent spoon that, with some polishing, could be used as a mirror.

Clara gave a soft clearing of her throat, signaling that she was done. When he turned, he found her staring at the small seaweed bed where she had slept when he’d first brought her here. He had often wished that he had the ability to know what she was thinking, but now that he had sharpened his powers, he found that he could not bring himself to violate her in that way.

“I don’t think I shall ever get used to the cold here,” she said, heedless of the turmoil brewing within him. “It seeps into me, down to my bones.”

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