Page 44 of A Storm Rises
She rose from the water and examined her palms. How did that blue energy power come out of her? If the power lived within her, maybe she was the Only One, not Mateo. But how? And wouldn’t she have known? The notes that came under the door into her bedchamber must have meant something.
Trust your instincts, not your past.
Be brave, for a new path is on the horizon.
Instincts. Path. What did it mean? Maybe Mateo had ideas. Maybe he channeled his power through her. She stretched her legs and arms underwater. She twisted her torso from side to side. Feeling as good a new, she made her way to the pond’s edge and walked out.
Water dripped from her naked form, the sun warming her like a wood stove. She slipped on her lower lacework and then her upper lacework. But her blood-stained, filthy tunic and dirty pants lay crumpled on the spongy grass. Scooping them up, she returned to the water. After a quick scrub, she laid the clothing out on a flat stone. Time to talk to Mateo.
Grasshoppers jumped as she picked her way through the wildflower-filled grass. Mateo turned and dusted off his pants when she approached. Standing tall on the rock with the sun shining down on him, he looked like a radiant god—a vision of perfection. He smiled and crouched down, stretching his arm out toward her. “Please, let me help you.”
She took his hand. Tingles raced all over her body at his touch. His strong gaze roamed her face and then darted to her lacy chest covering and exposed middle. She welcomed his glance and hoped he would never stop. Standing before him on the rock, she wasn’t sure what would happen next because suddenly her mind drifted to their dance. The closeness of their bodies. Their almost kiss.
But Mateo had other things on his mind. “Are you better?” He motioned toward her back.
“A little achy, but that is all. The water did its job.” She sat, and he joined her.
His forehead furrowed. “A lot has happened, and we have much to discuss.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” Pushing aside her desires, she tucked wet strands of hair behind her pointed ears. Everything she wanted to talk about cluttered her mind, with one thing overriding all the others. She held her palms up. “How did I do that?”
“I don’t know.” He hovered his hands over hers for a few seconds. “From the moment I stepped into the carriage to come here, I have been told that I am this so-called Only One. The witch from my village even claimed I had Strong blood in my veins. But they must have meant you. They must have meant Stromm.”
“Strong blood? As in Strong Haven?” That did not make sense. Her closest and most trusted confidant, Nia, told her Mateo was the Only One. “I, too, have been told that about you. But I never heard anything about the Strongs. That bloodline is extinct.”
Mateo sat back. Intensity darkened his gaze. His jaw tightened. “No one decides my fate. Not a prophecy and not a witch.” His piercing stare returned to her. “All we have is the here and now. The hunt. We must go back.” His voice lowered. “One of us must win, one must lose.”
He was right. A sick feeling churned inside her gut. Powers aside, they needed to finish what they started. And they were the last two. She found a stick and started tracing the surface of the boulder. She repeated his words in a whisper, “One of us must win, one must lose.”
He let out a sigh. “That is right.”
A trio of wood sprites swooped downward toward the pond. They flitted with high-pitched laughter, skirting the top of the water before soaring away. Watching the tiny creatures, she longed to go back to her life before the hunt. Back to a time where her life wasn’t at risk and her crown wasn’t in jeopardy.
She pulled her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees. There had to be a way for both of them to get what they wanted—the seeds for Mateo and the victory for her. The command to ensure Mateo’s last place finish be damned. They needed a plan, a solution.
Her thoughts returned to the hunt’s qualifier. She and Engrendorn were neck and neck the entire event until she got distracted at the last minute by a butterfly. He swooped in and dashed across the finish line first. But what if they had crossed the finish line at the same time? What would have happened?
Hope sprang inside her. She grabbed Mateo’s arms. “I know what to do.”
“What?”
“We each capture our prey and finish the hunt together.”
He paused and furrowed his brows. “A draw? So, we both get the rewards and avoid the death penalty?” He cupped and stroked his chin. “Has something like that ever happened?”
“I do not believe so. But as the Stromm princess and daughter of the High King, I will get you however many seeds you need, regardless of whether there is an issue with the reward. For your family and for all of the Sublands. We just need to cross the finish line together.”
His mouth parted, and he sat back, looking almost dazed. “You would do that for a lowborn half-fae from the Sublands?”
“I would do that for you.” She placed her warm hand on his awaiting knee.
He scooted away and rose to his feet. He faced the falls. A soft breeze whisked between them. The water trickled. Had she upset him with her suggestion? Said the wrong thing? She hoped not. She joined him at the boulder’s edge but stayed silent, waiting for him to speak.
He sighed and stared into the distance. “All my life, I have carried a hatred for you Stromms.” His words came out like a whispered confession. “And now here I stand with one who is willing to help me and my people.” He faced her, his intense gaze igniting a flurry of desire within her. “I stand with the one who makes my insides flutter like fireflies.” He wrung his hands. “She makes me forget who I am. I am wholly unworthy of her.”
His vulnerability tugged at her like a fierce current, pulling her into the depths of his truth and the profound abyss of his being. Echoes of pain emanated from Mateo, like a haunting and rhythmic melody. That pain, combined with reservoirs of immense strength, meant he had weathered countless storms and would weather countless more. Through all his complex ways, she felt as if she was seeing him—the real Mateo, for the first time. But seeing him was not enough. She needed to feel him.
Her pulse quickened. Should she open her heart to him? Tell him how he burned a fire inside her? How she would toss her duty and her station in life for him? But what would happen to her then? Her solution was simple for the hunt. But this force that united them was like their dance, intricate and unpredictable, where every step held the weight of the unknown. A war raged inside of her—what she should do versus what her heart wanted. Duty or love.
