8. Sapphire

Sapphire

I stand up, make my way into Zoey’s bathroom, and turn on the sink.

In the fae realm, the water responded to me like an extension of myself. But now, I don’t know how to begin.

Zoey leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me with a mix of curiosity and concern.

Pressure builds in my chest. I have to do this. If I don’t, she’s going to make me go to the hospital. It’s probably the same thing I’d want her to do if the situation was reversed.

But last night was real. I’m sure of it.

So, it’s time to show her that I’m not losing my mind.

I clench my fists by my sides, frustration bubbling under my skin as I stare at the water with every ounce of determination I have.

Nothing happens .

I try again, and still, nothing.

“Sapphire,” Zoey says softly. “Maybe we should go back to my room?”

“No,” I snap. “I can do this.”

Her silence tells me she doesn’t believe me, and my fingers twitch with the need to do something—anything—to prove I’m not crazy.

This is my chance. If I can’t do it, then?—

Crack.

The shower head snaps off, spraying water all around the bathroom.

“Crap!” I cry out, jumping back as cold water hits me in the face.

It’s getting on everything—me, the floor, the mirror, Zoey.

Zoey gasps and scrambles for towels, trying and failing to stop the chaos. “What the hell, Sapphire?”

“I didn’t mean to,” I say, and I hurry over to the shower, jumping up on the bathtub ledge and fiddling with the faucet as best as I can through the water spraying out of it.

I can do this. It’s just like when the sink breaks at the bar. The only difference is that this time, it’s bigger.

Finally—and I don’t know if it’s because I got my magic back under control, or because I have experience with fixing broken faucets—I get it to stop .

Once sure it’s most likely not going to explode again, I look around the bathroom.

The floor is covered with water, the rug is sopping wet, the walls and mirror are drenched, and Zoey looks like she just came inside from a rainstorm.

She’s staring at me, wide-eyed, speechless for the first time in her life.

“I guess that was my magic,” I say, wiping water from my face, my pulse still racing.

“Do it again,” she says, and she’s smiling in excitement, the soaked bathroom forgotten.

“You want me to break your shower again?”

“No—don’t do that,” she says quickly. “But maybe you can use this magic of yours to clean up the mess?”

I take a deep breath, taking in the situation around me. Water’s everywhere. The idea of controlling it—cleaning it up—feels impossible.

Then again, everything that happened last night sounds impossible, too. And I’m so close to getting Zoey on my side.

And apparently, the way to convince her is by cleaning up her bathroom.

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll try.”

I look around and focus, letting the memory of the stream flood my senses, remembering the way the water bent to my will.

Come on, I think. Move .

At first, nothing happens.

Then, I feel it. The smallest pull, like a thread of energy tugging at the air around me.

I have a grasp on it. Now I just need to…

Keeping my eyes laser focused on the puddle in front of me, I concentrate, willing a few droplets to rise from the floor.

They do.

Now, they’re suspended in midair. It’s like someone pressed pause during a movie, except everything other than the floating droplets is still playing.

Zoey’s eyes widen, and she steps closer, poking at a droplet in front of her.

Immediately, it and the others fall back to the floor.

“Wow,” she says, and this time when she looks at me, it’s not with fear, or worry. It’s with awe. “Can you really not lie?”

“Seriously?” I ask. “I made your shower explode and lifted water off the floor, and the thing you care about is whether or not I can lie?”

“You should test it out,” she says, not bothering to answer my question. “Like you did with the water.”

“Don’t we have more important things to worry about?”

“Wow,” she says, smirking. “You really can’t lie.”

“I can’t believe this is what you’re focused on.” I shake my head and manage to raise more droplets up from the floor, so they move around me in what feels like a moment of pure magic.

“Just try it,” she says, and I can’t help it—I push some of the water forward, so it splashes on her.

She’s completely unfazed.

“Lie. Right now,” she continues, her smirk growing wider. “Tell me that… you wish you’d said yes to Matt’s proposal.”

“I definitely don’t wish I’d said yes to Matt’s proposal.”

“You don’t even realize you’re doing it.” She laughs. “You’re just… talking around lying. Unbelievable.”

I press my lips together and glare at her, suddenly aware of the truth of what she’s saying.

Have I ever been able to lie? I don’t know. I’ve never felt great about lying, so I guess I’ve just danced around it. It’s always felt simple enough.

But when I try to tell Zoey that I’ve lied before, I can’t. The words simply won’t come.

“Fine,” I admit. “Apparently, I can’t lie. Happy?”

“Yes.” She grins—looking almost as conceited as Riven. “I am.”

I roll my eyes at her smug grin and refocus on the water around me, relieved when the magic comes to me way easier than it did during my first few attempts.

The water shifts and swirls, and I manage to pull some from the soaked rug, the mirror, and even Zoey’s drenched hair. It collects into a ball in front of me, and I stare at it in amazement as it sparkles under the light.

It’s like the magic is speaking to me. Telling me it’s mine to command.

Confident about my abilities now, I step aside and guide the floating ball of water into the bathtub.

Halfway there, it wobbles and splashes to the floor with a loud splat, soaking everything again.

I curse in frustration, squeezing the water out of my hair.

Zoey bursts out laughing, wiping water from her face. “So, you’re not exactly the fae version of a cleaning service yet, but still—that was amazing.”

I rub my temples, a headache brewing. “I’m glad you’re entertained.”

She grabs a towel from behind the door and starts mopping up the floor, still grinning. “This is incredible. You have magic. Not to mention a gorgeous, male fae who apparently has some weird, magical bond with you and rides around the forest on a white leopard.”

“We’re supposed to be focusing on getting back my bracelet—not on Riven,” I remind her.

She finishes wiping down the counter and tosses the towel into the sink. “So, we’re heading back to the forest?” she asks. “To go to his realm?”

“Ideally, yes,” I say. “But practically… Riven told me th ere were creatures out there. Ones that could kill us if we’re not careful.”

“You’re sounding just like Aunt Martha,” Zoey says. “Focusing on what’s practical instead of on what’s possible.”

“I’m not like Aunt Martha,” I say, irritated at the comparison.

“Since you’re saying it, and you can’t lie, then I guess you believe it,” she says. “But you definitely sound just like her right now.”

I sigh, knowing she’s never going to let the whole “not being able to lie” thing go.

“We’ll be fine,” she continues, waving me off. “We’re just going to look for your bracelet in the bushes, grab it, and come right back. We’ll stick close to the stream. Plus, it’ll be daytime. How dangerous could it be?”

She says it so casually, but I can tell by the gleam in her eyes that she’s dying to see the fae realm for herself.

Of course she is.

She wouldn’t be Zoey if she wasn’t.

“You’re not just interested in the bracelet, are you?” I ask. “You also want to go sightseeing?”

“Can you blame me?” She shrugs, not bothering to hide it. “You’ve been telling me about this beautiful place with magic and fae and hot men riding leopards. Of course I want to see it. And you want to get your bracelet back. Our interests are aligned. Isn’t that why you rushed over here in the first place? To get my help?”

“You’re forgetting one important thing,” I tell her.

“And what’s that?”

“Riven and I made the deal that I can’t go back to the fae realm for a year.”

She scrunches her brow, deep in thought.

We’ve already reached a dead end. Because I’m not going to be able to get my bracelet back. Riven’s deal made sure of it.

I pretty much knew that before coming over here. But I also knew that I needed to tell my best friend what happened.

I didn’t want to deal with this alone.

“Loopholes,” Zoey finally says, and she goes back into her room, giving me no choice but to follow. “That’s how you’re avoiding lying—you’re finding loopholes to step around telling the truth. Riven threatened using the loophole of how he never said when he’d get you back home. It was his way of getting around what the deal initially seemed to be. Maybe we can find another loophole now.” She stops pacing, zeroing in on me. “What was the exact wording of the deal?”

I think back, combing through the memory.

“He said that if I agreed to stay in Presque Isle for a year, he’d bring me safely home,” I say, sure of it.

“That’s it? ”

“Yes. That’s it.”

“I can work with that,” she says, pacing around her room again. “He said he could get around his side of the deal by not immediately bringing you home. Because the two of you didn’t specify timing.”

“Yes,” I say, curious about where she’s going with this.

“I think timing is key here,” she continues.

“How so?”

“Because he said you needed to stay in Presque Isle for a year. But did he say that the year needed to be all at once? Like… can it be spread out over time? A few weeks here, a month or so there? Can it just add up to a year?”

“I don’t know.” I smile, since as crazy as it is, she might be on to something. “But there’s only one way to find out.”