Page 89 of Female Fantasy
But like the ancient, mythical maecena, it never comes.
All I feel, once the shock settles, is a sense of nostalgia. Of déjà vu. It’s as if I’ve spied an old childhood friend with whom I’ve lost touch or a family member who has been exiled from Thanksgiving. Seeing them again is surprising—comforting, even.
But it doesn’t send a tingle down my torso or make my breath catch.
Can this be it?
Could years of waiting for the perfect man culminate in such an anticlimactic moment?
A wave of panic washes over me as a new disturbing thought sets up camp in my brain:What now?
But you know what? No. I refuse to let this be the end of my story with Ryan Mare. I need to get closer. To engage him in conversation and hear the deep rumble of his voice. Maybe then, our bond will kick in.
My heart will recognize what it’s been missing.
What if your heart has been whole all along?Imaginary Nico asks.
“Shut up,” I mutter to absolutely nobody.
It’s decided, then. I need to see this through.
Love at first sight is an overrated trope anyway. Who the hell likes reading instalove?
Resolute, I collect my things and follow Ryan Mare down a quiet side street before I can change my mind.
I wait until Ryke, his Upper Shoal, the rest of the sentries, and I have retreated to the main dining hall for dinner.
By the time they are on their second or third cups of ale, raucous laughter reverberates off the sand-papered walls, and someone plays the opening notes of a war ballad. This is when I excuse myself to my chambers. But instead of retreating to my waterbed and continuing to recuperate after my brush with death, I look behind me until I am sure I am not being followed, then slip out of the fort. Before I do, I grab the dorsal fin, the smallest and lightest item from the trove, and nestle it beneath my skirt. Then I swim as fast as my legs can carry me, as far as my air bubble can afford. Past the moat, away from the big pearly gates. I am not thinking clearly, moving without a plan of action.
All I know is that I need to get out.
Out of the palace. Out of the ocean.
I need to be somewhere I can finally breathe.
I cannot be molded into the mer’s secret weapon. Not when I have barely begun to step into my own power, to understand my own strength as a human woman with the blood of a goddess, a sea ancestry. I have no idea what I am capable of and cannot fathom finding out for the first time on a battlefield.
Not that anyone has asked for my opinion.
In the eyes of the mer, my command of the treasure trove is a sign from the holy Furnace and its Fates. This fight is my destiny, regardless of whether I choose it for myself.
And Prince Ryke…my Ryke…
He may believe he loves me. Truly, down to his very bones.
But I know the truth.
I was willing to sacrifice everything, to forfeit my life, to help him regain his strength.
That is love.
I love him, body and blood and soul.
But he does not love me. He is merely confused. What he actually hungers for is my life force. He craves more of my energy. I saw the way he eyed my wrist, my neck, my veins, even as I searched for his eyes. The sparks between us must be the result of some kind of pheromonal release in the aftermath of our joining.
The only thing that I cannot account for is the tender way he held me. Declared me his. Looked at me with suchadoration, so much worship, that I felt myself every bit the deity his people have declared me to be. I wanted to become the person he saw. To be worthy of him in that way.
What is that if not love?
