the strange and wonderful sensation of kissing his hand.
Knowing that Leif was just a creation of my imagination dredged from my subconscious to help me find my parents did not stop me from wanting him. Each night I went to bed yearning to meet him in my sleep. As the nights passed and the dreams remained absent, not only did I miss him—horribly and ridiculously—but I felt the link to my birth parents become more and more tenuous. If I didn’t have the gift they’d left for me, it would have been difficult to believe they even existed.
I knew every detail of the jewellery box. It was oval in shape, made of smooth honey-coloured wood—the grain streaked with gold. In the centre was a painting of a man and woman embracing, utterly captivated with each other. She looked up to him, her pale blond hair flowing down her back. His hands rested on her hips as he returned her attention. The more I studied the image the more I thought I saw the hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. The box sat in the middle of my bedside table, the gem-like stones that formed a chain of flowers around the edge of the lid flashing rainbows around the room when the sun fell on them.
On the fifth night I imagined I heard Leif calling before I’d even lost consciousness. He was waiting by the river and smiledwhen he saw me. But the expression soon flickered away to reveal one less comforting.
‘I have news, Marla, and I’m afraid the knowledge of it might change how you think of me.’
I looked up into his dark and worried eyes and knew that I could feel nothing but love for him. ‘Impossible,’ I said, shaking my head. His face relaxed into relief and my heart swelled. ‘I’ve missed you, Leif.’
His mouth curved into an adorable grin. ‘How much have you missed me?’ He reached for my hands and laced his fingers with mine. My heart reacted instantly, a tiny drum picking up its pace.
‘Much,’ I answered honestly and sighed long and loud as I brought one of his hands to my lips.
He laughed, but I didn’t care—I was too lost in pleasure.
‘We need to talk,’ he said when I released him.
He led me to the edge of the river and sat on one of the rocks there, leaving a space for me beside him. I sat close, basking in his warmth; it was like having my own sun. He glanced down, noticed me watching him, and wound an arm about my shoulder. Yum. His heat zinged into me, filling me all the way to my fingers and toes.
‘I have much to tell you but I think first you need to know more about me.’ He paused for a moment. ‘I am not common Fae, Marla.’ Was there even such a thing? The words ‘common’ and ‘Fae’ simply did not belong in the same breath. I waited for him to continue. ‘I am prince—the youngest in the royal bloodline.’ He seemed to become more upright as the words left his mouth, his chin lifting a little.
Leif watched me, quiet, while I considered this new information. I not only had myself a faery, I had myself a faery prince!
‘Leif, if you’re a faery prince and I’m your betrothed, does that make me a faery princess?’
‘You will be when we are married,’ he answered. ‘And one day you will be my queen.’
‘Married! You’re a bit young to be thinking about that, aren’t you?’ I said with what I hoped was a casual chuckle. But inside I’d gone all quivery.
‘It is usual for our kind to marry young, especially when the marriage is between the betrothed.’
‘Isn’t it always?’
‘Occasionally the non-betrothed will marry, but it rarely happens by choice. As I think you have discovered for yourself, the pull of attraction between the betrothed is quite irresistible.’
‘Oh yes,’ I agreed.
He smiled and brought me closer. ‘Usually the Fae will only marry another if the connection to their other half has been broken. There can be love and desire between the non-betrothed, but not that same level of perfection.’ His eyes were full of meaning, but I had no idea where
Knowing that Leif was just a creation of my imagination dredged from my subconscious to help me find my parents did not stop me from wanting him. Each night I went to bed yearning to meet him in my sleep. As the nights passed and the dreams remained absent, not only did I miss him—horribly and ridiculously—but I felt the link to my birth parents become more and more tenuous. If I didn’t have the gift they’d left for me, it would have been difficult to believe they even existed.
I knew every detail of the jewellery box. It was oval in shape, made of smooth honey-coloured wood—the grain streaked with gold. In the centre was a painting of a man and woman embracing, utterly captivated with each other. She looked up to him, her pale blond hair flowing down her back. His hands rested on her hips as he returned her attention. The more I studied the image the more I thought I saw the hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. The box sat in the middle of my bedside table, the gem-like stones that formed a chain of flowers around the edge of the lid flashing rainbows around the room when the sun fell on them.
On the fifth night I imagined I heard Leif calling before I’d even lost consciousness. He was waiting by the river and smiledwhen he saw me. But the expression soon flickered away to reveal one less comforting.
‘I have news, Marla, and I’m afraid the knowledge of it might change how you think of me.’
I looked up into his dark and worried eyes and knew that I could feel nothing but love for him. ‘Impossible,’ I said, shaking my head. His face relaxed into relief and my heart swelled. ‘I’ve missed you, Leif.’
His mouth curved into an adorable grin. ‘How much have you missed me?’ He reached for my hands and laced his fingers with mine. My heart reacted instantly, a tiny drum picking up its pace.
‘Much,’ I answered honestly and sighed long and loud as I brought one of his hands to my lips.
He laughed, but I didn’t care—I was too lost in pleasure.
‘We need to talk,’ he said when I released him.
He led me to the edge of the river and sat on one of the rocks there, leaving a space for me beside him. I sat close, basking in his warmth; it was like having my own sun. He glanced down, noticed me watching him, and wound an arm about my shoulder. Yum. His heat zinged into me, filling me all the way to my fingers and toes.
‘I have much to tell you but I think first you need to know more about me.’ He paused for a moment. ‘I am not common Fae, Marla.’ Was there even such a thing? The words ‘common’ and ‘Fae’ simply did not belong in the same breath. I waited for him to continue. ‘I am prince—the youngest in the royal bloodline.’ He seemed to become more upright as the words left his mouth, his chin lifting a little.
Leif watched me, quiet, while I considered this new information. I not only had myself a faery, I had myself a faery prince!
‘Leif, if you’re a faery prince and I’m your betrothed, does that make me a faery princess?’
‘You will be when we are married,’ he answered. ‘And one day you will be my queen.’
‘Married! You’re a bit young to be thinking about that, aren’t you?’ I said with what I hoped was a casual chuckle. But inside I’d gone all quivery.
‘It is usual for our kind to marry young, especially when the marriage is between the betrothed.’
‘Isn’t it always?’
‘Occasionally the non-betrothed will marry, but it rarely happens by choice. As I think you have discovered for yourself, the pull of attraction between the betrothed is quite irresistible.’
‘Oh yes,’ I agreed.
He smiled and brought me closer. ‘Usually the Fae will only marry another if the connection to their other half has been broken. There can be love and desire between the non-betrothed, but not that same level of perfection.’ His eyes were full of meaning, but I had no idea where
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