20. Deep Waters

20

Deep Waters

Safira Chastain

I 'd always enjoyed the autumns, and my first experience of the crisp cold of a montane autumn left the tropical turnings of the season far in its wake. In the University towns, autumn came as a quiet changing of what grew and flowered, the stunning heat of summer slipping towards comfortable humidity. At Barixeor, autumn swept in with towering thunderstorms and winds that kissed gold and crimson into the leaves of the trees. Pines hunkered down, their sap-wells turning to hard resin. Squirrels and chipmunks scurried through the woods, putting away stores of nuts for the winter cold.

I knew how to set a garden for winter, though I'd never done it on my own before, and I did it with joy. Flowers got dead-headed, seeds collected before the finches could get to them, and perennials mulched. I transplanted the more fragile of the plants to trays and set them up in the cold frames to ease them through the winter. Celyn joined me on the island a great deal of the time, sometimes as a man but more often as a horse. I fed him the bean plants, which he ate with gusto.

But gardens in any season are poor places for having a tumble with your beau, and despite the growing chill of the air, I spent a great deal of time in Tsirisma Lake. The volcano beneath us kept the water warmer than a typical alpine lake, and as the winter crept nearer, I finally got to see why he'd been given that name.

Celyn brought me to the hot springs that fed the lake, the steam rising from the water where it met the air. Fish darted in those pools of warmth, the vegetation growing dense and lush from the constant flow of minerals. We explored the whole shore of the lake over the course of weeks, until finally Celyn took my hands, swimming backwards towards the depths of the lake.

"What if I get tired?" I asked, the nervousness of being far from the shore asserting itself, though I let him draw me towards the clear blue heart of his lake .

"I will carry you," he replied, his eyes soft.

"I might get cold."

"You will not." Celyn smiled, the corners of his horse's eyes crinkling with good humor.

"What if I drown?"

He stopped towing me out, drifting towards me instead. Celyn wrapped his arms around me, his warm body fitting itself to my shape. "You will never drown in me, Safira," he murmured against my skin. "No harm will ever come to you in my waters. I swear it to you." The water-horse of Tsirisma Lake nuzzled my neck, his breath warm, holding me close. "If you tire, I will carry you to rest. If you chill, I will lay you down where the heat of a volcano seeps into me. If you drown, it will only be in pleasure." He kissed my throat, then my mouth, all sweet affection. "I promise, Safira. Give me one more gift of trust. Breathe beneath my waves. You will not be harmed."

The idea filled me with visceral fear. I did trust Celyn. But... "How do you know?" I asked. "How can you be sure?"

He smiled again at that, his wet fingers pulling hair out of my face. "You will not be the first."

That surprised me, my eyes going round. "I won't?"

"No." He shook his head, cupping my face in my hand. "A thousand and more years ago, it was a small boy, his makeshift raft breaking beneath him. Three thousand before that, a young woman who sought to drown herself, seeking death from the man who held her enslaved." A vicious expression crossed his face. "I held her safe, and showed him the errors of his ways. She worshiped me until time caught her in a softer embrace." Celyn shook his head like a restive horse, tossing his dark hair behind him. "You will not drown, Safira," he said in a softer voice. "Let me show you my depths."

"Okay," I said, my voice coming out tiny.

Celyn looked like he might say more, but I seized my one moment of courage. I thrust out my breath and dove, kicking out towards the depths of the lake. The need for air clawed at my ribs. My mind wouldn't let me do the thing I knew would kill me. I would die, I knew I would die—

Celyn re-formed in front of me, his beautiful eyes full of worry. I grabbed his face, focusing on the pale blue of his gaze, forcing the panic away. His hands curled around my wrists, and I breathed the lake in.

Despite every expectation, it didn't hurt. The cool water filled my body, like drinking a glass of ice-water on a hot day, sending a pleasant sense of relaxation through me. My lungs had to work harder, the water so much more viscous than air, but when I paused to hold my breath, I didn't even need to do that much. The water sustained my breath better than any lungful of air.

My eyes widened in surprise, and that expression softened all of Celyn's fears. He relaxed, his expression softening as he took one of my hands and planted a soft kiss on my palm. His dark hair drifted around his face as we sank into the deeper waters, the arcs of his black lashes as dense as the darkest night. The beauty of that sight made my heart ache. This was Celyn—who he truly was. Surrounded by the lake with beams of sunlight dancing past us, deep underwater, I finally got to see the true face of the man whose kiss I craved, and he was more beautiful than I had ever imagined.

"I told you," his voice said into my mind. His eyes opened, turning to look into mine again. "Harm cannot find you within my waters."

And, gods, I believed him, total certainty sinking into me. I'd thought Barixeor Spire could be the one place in the world where I could be safe, but I'd never been able to fully shed the fear. Here, in the crystalline waters of Tsirisma Lake, everything else vanished. There was nothing that could touch me here. Nothing but Celyn, and he only ever touched me with kindness and desire.

Wondering, I traced my fingers down his bare chest. Tsirisma Lake. My Celyn, who held me safe.

He shivered from the touch and kissed my fingertips. "Come with me," he said with his best allure. "Let me show you everything I am."

I nodded, a shy smile touching my face, and let Celyn pull me deeper beneath the waves.

I spent the entire day with him, and through the night. He showed me the patterns where the fish built stages to woo their wives, and the tall weeds where the bluegill made their nurseries. I ran my fingers down the spine of a pike as it slid through the waters, and startled a muskrat gathering water-weeds for her nest. It was all so beautiful and strange, and when Celyn asked if I might remain with him while I slept, how could I refuse?

In the morning, eating a much-belated meal, I weathered Marin's looks of concern without comment. She'd suffered worse than me at the hands of mages, and yet I caught her chatting with the new Spirekeeper as if they were friendly acquaintances instead of master and servant. She didn't even know Celyn. Her opinion of him – of us – had nothing to do with who he was, and everything to do with prejudice.

At least Bashen didn't treat me like I was playing with fire when I came into the Spire with my hair wet. He seemed to approve, even, though he didn't offer any more commentary on the topic. I didn't raise my relationship with Celyn, so he was content to let it lie. I appreciated that a great deal more than meaningful looks from Marin or thoughtful ones from the sorcerer.

One day, when the clouds scudded cleanly across a rain-scoured sky and the winter cold nipped at my cheeks, I paused in conversation to watch a flock of swans take flight, following their white bodies as they threw themselves up into the sky. They wheeled over the lake, picking up stragglers, then turned and flew in a deep vee out of the caldera, heading for places unknown.

"I wonder where they go," I murmured, mostly to myself, my foot falling still where I had it dipped into the water. Despite the halo of ice at the shore, the water beneath wasn't cold enough to bite, a comfortable temperature for someone who'd been swimming in it since the summer.

"We could follow them," Celyn replied, smiling up at me from his position sprawled in the lake.

I laughed at that; the swans were already out of sight. "Swans are a great deal faster than a woman afoot, I'm afraid."

"Not faster than I." He smirked at me.

"Are you offering to let me ride you, then, water-horse?" I asked, smirking right back. "Will you carry me willingly, so I can see where the swans go?"

His face went soft, lips parting. His mouth moved, as if he wanted to speak. "Are you asking?" The words were breathy, catching in his throat.

Shyness caught at me. I tucked a curl behind my ear, kicking my toes through the water. "You offered, once," I said with a little smile. "We don't have to chase swans. But I thought it might be... fun? At least, if that's something you'd like."

A smile spread across his face like the dawning light. Celyn pushed himself up, the water cascading down his body. "I have never before carried someone for the sake of enjoyment. Yet I love the feel of your thighs gripping me, and the weight of your body resting in my waves." He started shifting, his tail swishing behind him as dark fur bloomed into being, spreading up his legs like black frost. "It would be my pleasure."

Celyn tossed his head as he stepped fully into his equine form, his long mane flopping over his crested neck. He stepped forward and offered me his head, pressing up against my chest when I stroked his strong jaw. I kissed him softly at the base of his ear before standing, then released him to put my boot back on. Tsirisma Lake might have been warm enough to dabble in, but the rest of the world certainly wasn't friendly to bare feet, especially wet ones.

When I tied my laces and stood again, Celyn pivoted and knelt, offering me his back. With a frisson of exhilaration running through my chest, I got astride my lover, gripping his mane and sides. The bare back of a horse is a slippery seat indeed, but as Celyn got to his feet, I didn't slip. A water-horse can control the body of any who touch him, and he kept me on his back, holding me there with an ease I knew had to have been born from carrying those who'd tried to capture him.

I didn't feel scared, though. The emotion that rioted through me bordered on fear, a wild joy that left me breathless. As Celyn's muscles bunched beneath me, I started laughing, helpless to resist the force of that joy. He whinnied, rearing up in a horse's exuberance, then leapt forward into a pounding gallop, all but growing wings as he raced across the surface of his lake towards the distant memory of swans.