Xanas are half nymph and half fairy. They live near fountains, rivers, and waterfalls—anywhere there is pure water. When the female creatures are sad, their aura takes on a mauve hue known throughout the supernatural world as vernal purple. It’s when they’re at their weakest.
One must be very careful around the nymph fairies. Like sirens, they lure you with their beauty and promises of great treasures. If angered, they can easily become disenchanted and spell you, causing you to rush to your drowning death in a fit of insanity.
A few moments later, I sense her.
“I know you’re there. You can come out,” I say quietly.
Silence.
Exhaling, I release the torrent of water back into the brook, causing the entire creek to glow purple for a brief moment before, little by little, the color fades away.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” I state.
“I am not afraid,” she replies, with an edge in her angelic voice.
“Then come out.”
“I can summon those who live in the shadows,” she says.
“I’m not here to harm you. I sensed your unhappiness.”
A quiet settles between us again before she speaks.
“Sensing my emotions is not possible. You are a gargoyle, not a nymph or empath,” she points out.
I lean back on my hands. The smooth moist stone calms me. “My powers are driven by nature and the elements. Therefore, I am sensitive to fairies and nymphs.”
There is a silent pause before she whispers. “Only two elemental gargoyles exist. Both are of royal bloodlines.”
“I guess that makes me one of two,” I reply haughtily.
Several moments pass, and just when I think she’s vanished, a cool breeze begins to circle around me, sending shivers across my skin. I remain quiet and still as the forest becomes sluggish, as if in slow motion. Colors swirl beside me, and finally the young woman appears.
Guarded, I blink several times at her form before relief washes through me. Though her expression is serious, her silver eyes are filled with kindness and warmth.
She smiles tenderly before dipping her head toward me, bowing slightly as a show of respect.
The motion grants me a full view of her headband, which is made of intertwined white branches. Each twig is embellished with shiny flecks that sparkle when the moonlight bounces off the water and hits them.
When she returns to her full height, I notice her skin has the most amazing sheen to it, appearing silvery. Even her lips, nails, and eyelids are gilded with the grayish color.
“Your Highness, it is an honor,” she greets.
My eyes roam across her face, taking in the white branches that also frame her slender visage. The adornments begin at her eyebrow area and continue to the bottom of her chin.
She’s lovely.
The nymph lifts her overly long, thick lashes and flashes a pretty glance at me, while she fidgets with the stiff skirt of her dress. It reminds me of a ballet costume.
Warily, the Nordic beauty takes a seat next to me, and once comfortable, her slender shoulders visibly relax.
I offer her a kind smile, forgetting just how breathtaking nymphs can be when they show themselves. Their beauty is designed to allure and seduce you. It can cloud your mind with thoughts of want and sexual pleasure.
She glances at me as she takes out a small platinum comb and begins to obsessively brush the long pieces of white-blonde hair falling in large ringlets down her back. Each elegant motion she makes is more fascinating than the last. I’ve never been this close to a nymph before.
I recall my mother once telling me that a xana’s need to brush her hair is not born out of vanity, but is instead a way they comfort themselves when scared, forlorn, or unnerved.
“My pick is spelled with moonbeams. It’s why my hair is luminescent.” Her voice is musical as she speaks.
“It’s very pretty.”
“I’m Freya,” she replies.
“Serena.” I continue to stare at her. It’s hard not to.
“Have you not met a nymph before, Serena?”
“I haven’t,” I admit.
Freya’s eyes widen. “Oh my,” she exhales.
My gaze shifts to the forest, and then back to her. I motion to her compulsive brushing.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Freya.”
She falls silent for a second before her comb disappears.
“You summoned me, by turning the stream vernal. It was an invitation, was it not?” Her tone is unsure.
“I noticed your amethyst hue earlier and your sorrowful cries floated to me. Why are you so melancholy?” I ask.
Freya’s voice and face are calm, despite the uneasiness that is emanating off of her. “It was not my intent for you to hear me shed tears, Serena. My deepest apologies.”
“I’m a good listener, if you’d like to talk,” I pose.
“You are most kind to offer, Princess.”
I sigh. “I’d prefer not to be called that.”
Freya’s expression pinches. “You are not kind?”
“No—um . . . Princess. I’m not fond of the title.”
She laughs lightly. “Don’t be daft. A princess is who and what you are, Serena. You were born of a noble bloodline. As the next in line to the throne, you are a royal protector.”
Apparently nymphs are literal. Avoiding her statement, I flick beams of light off the brook. Each gracefully skims the water’s line, bouncing and making contact with a few of the dragonflies encircling us. With each strike, the insects begin to glow vernal, reminding me of lightning bugs.
“Bloodlines don’t make you regal, Freya.”
She regards me, considering my words quietly before she speaks again. “I’m afraid in our world, they do.”
“I’m meant to be more than a royal legacy,” I counter.
Freya swings her feet in a child-like manner. “Noble birthrights are essential,” she shoots me a side glance. “My father, Oren, is the emperor of the water fairies. My mother, Lily, is a simple woodland nymph. One day, she woke up to discover that she was to become the empress consort of the water fairies—an appointment given to her by her best friend, the queen of the woodland nymphs.”
I exhale into the night. Freya is royal. “Then you understand the struggle and chains of noble obligations.”
Silence falls over us for a while before her gentle voice cuts through it. “Many years ago, the woodland and water realms were on the brink of war. My parents’ union was symbolic. A promise, that from that day forth, and forevermore, both realms would live in harmony and peace,” she inhales. “But as with most accords, there is a cessation.”
“A cessation,” I repeat, playing with the word. “If your parents’ marriage no longer preserves the suspension of hostilities between the two realms, there must be a new cessation, right?” I ask.
Her head nods. “I’ve been promised to a very handsome nymph prince. A prize amongst our kind. Sadly, he has a penchant for bedding many of the females within our world.”
I flinch. “I’m guessing congratulations aren’t in order.”
Freya’s expression becomes crestfallen. “Regardless of the prince’s side interests, the alliance of our kingdoms is important to the survival of our kind, Serena. Our unification will extend the peace treaty, preventing further conflict.”
“I’ll never understand why a feud between power-hungry realms is cause for an arranged marriage,” I muse.
She offers me a hesitant smile. “It would seem you have much to learn with regard to the supernatural world.”
“Enlighten me, then,” I suggest.
“The forests need water in order to endure. In turn, the water fairies reside within the safety of the thriving woodland walls. We are all connected, Serena. Every realm in existence, including the earth realm, relies on the others for survival. If our two realms were to go to war, everything surrounding us would cease to exist, because everything depends on water and the
forest’s endurance in order to live and thrive. Especially the human souls you’ve sworn to protect. The forest is of critical importance to mundane life. The trees produce the very oxygen they breathe. And without water, the earth realm would perish. If there are no human souls to protect, then your race would also cease to exist. You see, Serena, we all have our parts to play when it comes to royal obligations and maintaining the supernatural balance.”
My gaze shifts across the dark forest. “I understand the delicate balance needed across realms. But you don’t love him, this . . . nymph you’re betrothed to?”
“On the contrary, I love him with every breath I take.”
I place my hand over hers. “Then why are you so sad?”
She exhales. “He has only agreed to the marriage because his loyalty to his lineage will not allow him to do otherwise. Even though we’ve been friends since birth.”
Unrequited love is the worst kind.
I squeeze her hand. “I wish I could offer words of encouragement,” I pause. “I’ve never been in love. So, I’m unsure of what to say in order to help ease your sadness.”
“Never?” Freya asks, surprised, before turning her hand over and entwining our fingers as if we’re two young friends on the playground.
I shake my head slowly. “Never.”
“Close your eyes,” she demands.
My brows pinch.
“Just trust me,” she pushes.
My lids slide closed and suddenly, I feel the warmth of her energy flood through my hand, up my arm, and into my heart. It grows and ebbs like the tide. It’s the most beautiful sensation. Encompassing me, it wraps itself around the pulsing organ. Oxygen has lost value as my heartbeat rhythmically begins to throb in a smitten chant.
I smile, allowing the happiness and love she feels for her intended to fill me and make me whole. It’s the highest high.
“That is what the feeling of love is,” she whispers.
Then, in an instant, as if a thunderstorm has rolled in, I feel scared, alone, and cold. I’m burning with bitterness, foolish optimism, and dangerous confidence.
As the storm carries on, the warm, happy feeling rips itself away, and in its wake is frigid destruction. The agony of her loss is too much, and I’m forced to yank my hand away from her with a pain-filled scream.
Tristan
I felt her fear before I heard her screams. Serena’s anxiety rushes into me through our bond. Attempting to ignore her unease, I move toward where she is. As her terror surges through me, it takes every ounce of my willpower not to just teleport to her, using an unwelcome protector gift from my father.
As I close in, I detect movement in front of me. Quietly, I approach. Then, acting out of instinct, I instantly rush through the last bit of wooded area that separates us.
Startled, Serena leaps off the rock she was seated on and attempts to crouch in an offensive maneuver, but she’s not fast enough. I wrap myself around her and teleport her away from whatever it was that had her screaming as though her heart was being torn from her chest.
When I reappear a few feet away with her securely in my arms, she spins and throws me a defiant look, before quickly jerking out of my hold.
The second I let her go, Serena slams her hands into me, sending me backwards. Unable to catch my footing, I land on my ass. Hard. Fuck, that hurts!
“Tristan?” she exhales roughly.
I groan and sit up. “Raindrop.”
“What the hell are you doing?” she yells, placing herself in a protective stance, bracing for another attack.
Her bright eyes linger over me before meeting mine.
“It’s okay,” I offer gently. “Everything’s okay.”
“What?” Serena barks out, confused.
“I’m here to save you,” I explain. “You’re safe now.”
As if I’ve punched her, she rears back. “Do I give you the impression that I’m a damsel in distress?”
Her words render me speechless for a moment, before I compose myself. “I heard you screaming,” I point out.
“Your Highness?” A surprised female voice interrupts from behind the angry gargoyle who is staring me down as if she doesn’t know whether to kiss me or punch me.
At first the nymph has no effect on me, but gradually her voice penetrates, gaining my attention. I snap my head up and recognition assaults me, as I meet the silver stare of the panicked female.
Distressed, she takes a step toward us, but Serena spins quickly and steps in, blocking me from her.
I watch, confused. Is she—protecting the xana?
“I’m fine, Freya,” Serena assures, placing her palms up.
“But—” the xana begins, and I cut her off, standing.
“Her Highness said she was fine, nymph.” My tone is final.
Serena’s attention shifts back to me, and she takes a step in my direction, lifting her chin. “I don’t know who you think you’re speaking to, Tristan, but you have no right to use that tone with her. Nymph or not, she deserves respect.”
Freya bristles and whispers. “Actually—”
I shoot Serena a haughty look. “That so?”
Serena snorts. “Freya is not subservient simply because she is a nymph and you are a protector.”
“I bet her intended feels otherwise,” I snap.
Freya frowns, and I suddenly feel like the asshole I am.
Letting out a deep breath, I lean toward Serena. “Interesting stance on nymphs you have, raindrop.”
The gargoyle’s jaw tightens and for just a second, I think she’s actually going to take a swing at me. Some pathetic part of me wishes she would, so I could feel her skin on mine again.
We all stand in silence for several minutes, not saying anything else, until the tension eventually begins to ease.
When I finally feel Serena’s emotions calm, I relax.
With a lazy grin, I stretch my arms over my head, causing my shirt to ride up a bit at the bottom. Both ladies flush at the sight, averting their gazes when I catch them.
Serena clears her throat. “Why are you here, Tristan?”
I return her stare with a shrug. “I was walking and heard you scream. I thought perhaps you were in . . . danger.”
Her gaze narrows at the lie, as does the nymph’s.
“As you can see, I’m not in . . . danger,” she mocks.
“Why were you screaming then?” I counter.
Serena looks to Freya, who offers a slight shake of her head, before turning her attention back to me. It’s obvious they’re working together to hide something. Interesting.
“I, um,” Serena stretches.
“Yes?” The annoyance in my voice is unmistakable.
“Thought I saw a frog.”
“A frog?” I repeat in disbelief.
“Yes.”
“You’re afraid of amphibians?” I question.
“Terrified.”
“Of a toad?”
“Toads, newts, salamanders, all amphibians really.”
I try to hold back my smile. “Why is that?”
She swallows, uncomfortable with lying. “Well,” her eyes dart around the forest, searching for an answer. “They’re tailless and slimy. Unpredictable when they leap,” she adds. “Full of warts and stuff,” her voice trails off.
I watch her fake a shiver for effect. It’s awkward, yet amusing, that she thinks I’m buying her pathetic reasoning.
“They also have that weird sac in their throat that makes that awful croaking sound,” Freya adds in a murmur.
Serena nods her head in agreement. “That, too. The,” she forces out the words, “weird sound, thingy, they make.”
I raise a brow and press my lips, while filling my tone with sarcasm. “I can see how that would be . . . terrifying.”
“Petrifying, really,” Serena continues.
“Chilling, even,” I add.
“Horrifying.”
“Frogs!” I announce.
“Crazy.”
We hold one another’s gaze in a gentle manner. The connection between us is palpable. For one perfect moment, everything around us fades out and it’s just me and her. No one else. It’s strangely peaceful.
Serena stares at me, unblinking, her lips slightly parted, as her gaze falls to my mouth.
Like a magnet, I’m drawn to her, and take a step in her direction, but stop when Freya throws me a withering glance. The xana flicks her hair and huffs at being ignored, causing Serena to look away, breaking the spell.
“SERENA!” A male voice barks loudly from behind me.
Our moment now gone, Serena studies the ground with great intensity. My jaw clenches at the heated sound of her guard, Rulf. The need to protect her, even from him, boils.
Having two protectors, one who is actually bonded to her and another who is assigned, is going to be an issue.
It’s too bad that only one of the three of us knows about the bond, which means I need to keep myself in check and not kick his ass every time he gets near her.
“SERENA!” he repeats in a roar, emerging from the trees and stomping toward us.
“What the hell is going on?” Rulf bites out.
A playful light crosses Serena’s features like a mask she’s put on. She smiles brightly and uses a lilt in her tone.
“Hey, Rulf. What are you doing out here?” she asks, as if she ran into him at the store.
Rulf’s dark gaze falls across the three of us before landing on his charge. “Magali was worried that you might have gone and done something . . . stupid,” he states.
She smiles weakly. “I usually do. About once a day.”
With a cold glare thrown at Freya and me, he continues. “It’s not appropriate for you to be consorting with nymphs.”
Serena crosses her arms over her chest and shoots her guard a warning look. “Freya is a new acquaintance, and Tristan is a protector. There is no danger here. And even if there were, I am a gargoyle and can take care of myself.”
“Regardless,” Rulf exhales. “I’m here to take you back.”
Oddly enough, Serena’s gaze meets mine, her eyes seeking my permission. My nostrils flare at the thought.
She doesn’t want to go with this idiot any more than I want him to be the one to take her. Rules are rules, though. I step forward, giving her my undivided attention.
Vernal Page 7
