Page 88 of Ballad of Sea and Sky

“It would be far easier for you, though,” she said slowly, her heart thumping rapidly, “if I stayed. Wouldn’t it?”

Skies. I should tell her. I should tell her now that we were mates and I needed her to stay and I wanted her in every way, not just pretend.

But she should have a choice. What if telling her took that choice from her?

What ifnottelling her did the same?

There was no easy way forward here. I either lied, and made her furious with me down the line, or I told the truth and destroyed any free will she had.

The choice seemed a simple one, when put like that.

“I will not force you, Marina,” I said flatly, ignoring my tearing heart. “I vowed I would take you home myself if you can’t see my cause the way I do. I was serious. I’ll come up with some excuse to feed the council if necessary.”

I felt an odd sympathetic twinge of hurt in Marina at this. Skies, she thought I didn’t really want her. Before I could correct this error, she interrupted.

“And this marriage,” she said, the words spilling out of her in a rush. “Will there not be pressure from your council to formalize it? To send a message to my parents?”

Now I felt guilt gnawing at her, and I winced internally. I was fucking this up.

“You have nothing to feel guilty for,” I assured her, brushing another light kiss over her lips. “We can worry about what comes later after dealing with what comes next. And yes,” I added, trying to reassure her, “there will be pressure. You will have to insist it’s a selkie custom to wait or some other such lie.”

“I can do that,” she said, relief seeming to loosen that ball of anxiety in her chest. Finally, I’d said the right thing. “How long?”

I studied her face, every freckle familiar to me now. She would leave, and it would kill me, but it should be her choice.

“Two weeks?” I suggested, caressing her cheek. “A month? How long are you willing to give me, Marina?”

She pursed her lips in thought, and I prayed to the skies for peace with whatever she said next.

“A month,” she said finally, making my heart leap again like a damned fledgling during his first flight. “I can stay for a month.”

“Good,” I said, pressing my forehead to hers and breathing her in. I had a month with her. A month of this. It would have to be enough.

We sat in silence for a while, the full weight of what we were doing finally hitting me. My feelings for this female, this princess, were intensely more than friendship, and here I was potentially setting myself up for heartbreak.

But the glint in her eyes when I finally broke away, and the warm curl in her gut as I smiled, told me that mine were not the only complicated feelings here.

Perhaps she would choose me after all.

“One question,” she said, making me smile fondly and a little disbelieving at her. “In your culture, does betrothal mean the same thing it does in mine?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, raising a brow.

She flushed. “Mating.”

Fuck.

“No,” I said, weighing my words carefully, uncertain how much I should say. “Siren mates are always fated. The bond is felt by both parties and struck by the winds and stars. The pair finds each other and are inexorably drawn together. My mother once described it like finding the other half of your soul.”

“That sounds lovely,” she said, looking like she wished it could be the same for us.

Something—probably my conscience— screamed at me to tell her it was. That itcouldbe that easy. A bond fated by the universe would be undeniable, for both of our peoples.

“Would you want that?” I asked hesitantly. Perhaps this was my sign to tell her and let fate have its way after all. “To have no choice in who you mated?”

“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. Skies, it was like she was driving a dagger into my heart. At least I had made the right call not telling her yet. “I would want to be in love.”

“Me too,” I agreed, unable to keep the edge of bitterness out of my tone.