Page 154 of The Nymph Prince
Malik glowered at us the following day. “You left your room, didn’t you?”
“Why yes, Ihaveleft the room,” Lorcan answered, motioning to his body and turning in a circle. “I am in the tavern now. Alek must’ve used his magic on me.”
Reif only stared, as if bored, but I knew better. The corner of his mouth twitched.
“I meant last night, my prince.” Malik pinched the bridge of his nose. “Forget it. Knowing will only make my head hurt.”
The guard had eased up a little over the months. Now that Lorcan’s life wasn’t in immediate danger—and mine, either, for that matter—Malik wasn’t as tightly wound. He even had ale on occasion, which he’d never done in the past.
The table wench took our orders and left once she realized she wasn’t going to be getting any extra coin from us. She’d all but shoved her large breasts in Reif’s face and he’d sat there unfazed by her advances. Uninterested.
The strumming of a lute filled the room, soft but becoming louder.
An ache formed in my chest.
A year had passed since I’d seen Fletcher, but I still thought of him. When I looked to the stars or saw ships sailing by, I remembered him. He wouldn’t know me anymore.
“He’s talented,” Lorcan said before taking a drink of his ale and curling his nose.
“Who?” I’d been in a daze.
“The bard,” he answered, pointing behind me. “There’s something strangely familiar about him.”
That’s when I heard it.
“You choose the rose, love, and I’ll make the vow,” the bard sang as he strummed the lute. “And I’ll be your true love forever.”
That song. That voice.
My heart dropped into my stomach and I shot upward, flipping around to look at him.
A young man sat at the edge of the wooden stage holding a teardrop-shaped lute. Hair the color of fire, porcelain skin, and green eyes; he looked just as I remembered him.
It cannot be.
“Fletch!” I shouted, bumping into people as I ran toward the stage.
His head snapped up and his gaze darted around the room before landing on me. Only confusion touched his face. He had no idea who I was.
“Hello,” he politely said once I was close to him. “Have we met?”
Pain slashed through my heart, but then I reminded myself that he wouldn’t know me in this body. There was no way he could have.
“It’s a very long story,” I responded, fighting the urge to hug him. “How about I tell you over a drink?”
“Okay. Sure.” Fletcher smiled and stood up, carefully handling his lute. “I was due for a break anyway.”
“You work here?”
He’d been shy to play and sing for us on theCrimson Night, but with a little prompting—and okay, maybe a little shoving on my part—he’d eventually grown confident enough with the crew. But for him to play in front of strangers? I was proud of him.
“Yep,” he answered, walking beside me. “You know my name, but I didn’t catch yours.”
He froze when we got to my table. His eyes locked onto Lorcan, and I could see his mind at work.
“It’s you,” he said under his breath.
Lorcan cocked his head, his interest piqued. And then he broke out into a huge smile and looked at me. “You found him!”
