Page 9 of A Realm of Fire and Ash

"What time is it?" I ask.

He stills. "Um, just past midnight, I think. They don't give us clocks in our cells."Another way to make them pay for their crimes.

"Seventy-thousand, four-hundred and forty-six days." I breathe, but barely. The walls I've built around me crumble in his arms. That's how long I've gone without his touch. The number on the other side of it, infinite.

Vitadamnationemis his sentence. That's the rest of his life, and for an immortal, it's forever. And it’s all my fault.

I’d been so reckless. He shouldn’t be here, rotting away.

Grief clings to me so tight, I choke on it. I've known this man since I first ventured out of Castanea as a rebellious twenty-something, thousands of years ago. We weren't allowed to leave, but I did. I sneaked through the watering hole portal to the surface, traversed the barren landscape, and bumped into the most stunning man I'd ever seen at a beautiful waterfall.

His silver wings were tucked against his back, but his long, dark hair whipped wildly in the light, spring breeze.

The water cascaded down his strong shoulders in silvery ribbons. He dove off the edge of the rocks and into the pool of fresh water below without so much as a splash to mark his entrance. For hours, he swam back and forth, diving and swimming underwater for remarkable lengths of time like some kind of creature from a fairytale. And to me, he really was. I'd only known about the fae in Castanea.

For hours, I watched him scale the rocky face and dive off, never revealing myself to him. It wasn't until later he admitted he'd known I was there the whole time. Merfae have a fae-like appearance as well as silver wings and gills at will. Rows of razor-sharp teeth appear when he's fighting. Eyes the color of a stormy sea, he stripped me bare before I stood a chance.

"What happened to your sight?" He caresses my brow. Merfae can see in the dark just as well as in the light thanks to a preternatural form of echolocation that works on both land and in the water.

I can't make out his features, but I can tell it's pitch dark down here. The power must've gone out. A steady drip of water in the space tells me he's at least got access to some form of way to release his magic.

"My eyes were seared by a malfunctioning scanner, and then I tripped down a hole and ended up here."

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "Though I can't say I'm upset you found your way back to me. I've missed you."

"I still carry your shell."

"After all this time?"

"Always." I lift my wrist, waving my hand over the dark, heart-shaped glass, lighting it up so he can see the exquisite shell inside. He'd given it to me the day we met.

I've never met another merfae on the mainland aside from Wilder's parents. The rest of his order prefer to live deep in the Triune Sea. Every fourth Sunday, though, I visit his mom and dad. Without him around, they get lonely.

They spend most of their time in their merfae form, living beneath a shipwreck at the North end of Convectus. All I have to do is park my toes in the sand and wait. Within an hour, they’re joining me at shore, their merfae forms shifting into fae while we catch up. I like to drop off a type of syrup I make from the sap of a tree near the waterfall in Castanea in exchange for their company. A small sliver of familiarity to get me by.

Wilder hoists me up, cradling me in his massive arms and carries me closer to the sound of trickling water. "Here, Little Bird." He nestles me closer to his chest as we're plunged into water.

I gasp from the cold, clawing at his arms to draw heat to me. He chuckles.

"I'm going to heal you now."

Nodding, I cling to him as he presses a kiss to each of my eyes, his saliva always having had a healing effect on me. His faint outline becomes clearer until I'm met with his steely grey irises, and I begin to weep, the sight of him almost too much to bear. Long, dark hair falls in damp waves over his shoulders and down his back, past the waistband of his soaking wet prison-issued uniform. High cheekbones and a sharply angled jaw give him a harsh, unforgiving beauty I know all too well. I want to run my fingers over his features, trace the arrow of his eyebrows, caress the angular lines of his chin. I want to kiss him but settle for squeezing him harder and placing my head against his chest as silent tears spill down my cheeks.

His lips meet my neck, heat searing me as he whispers against my skin. "Don't cry, Little Bird."

By the Gods, do I cry. For the man I love more than life. For my best friend. For the years that have separated us.

When he'd been sentenced, they had to sedate me for a month. And when I woke, all I could do was shriek and tear into anyone who got in my way when I tried to get him out. I'd spent fifteen years suspended in a cryochamber as a result. There, I underwent mandatory intensive rehabilitation, therapy, and mental health counseling to help reprogram me. When I got out, I began my attempts to peacefully see him. I'd come a long way from being that broken girl, watching as they slap his magic suppressant bracelet on him as they haul him out of the room.

And in mere hours, I'm back to being that blubbering mess again.

Wilder continues healing my injuries with his kiss, the warmth doing more than just restoring my health. Merfae have something in their saliva that helps, even without using magic. By the time he reaches the gash on my leg, we're both panting.

Our whole lives, stolen glances, tense exchanges, and heated make-out sessions were the extent of our adventures in sexual frustration together.

And because Wilder's likelihood of meeting his anchor while cordoned off in a prison basement is next to nothing, he'll remain a virgin.

I'm a terrible person because the thought of that isn't as unsettling as it should be.

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