She nodded. “I know that now. But I’m so confused.” Her eyes roamed Lillington’s square, all the people out here for her. This was the life she could have led. It was what she could have again. She voiced the treacherous thought. “Did I make a mistake by not returning to Bryonica?”

Fordham tugged her in closer. She rested her cheek against his chest. “It was the only choice you had at the time. Your father spent twelve years convincing you not to come back here. And he did it successfully. You would have picked anything over coming back.”

“Not anything. You.”

He held her closer in silence. Things neither of them could say hung heavy in the space between them.

As the party came to a close, the littlings were put to bed, lovers held each other tighter, and the magic of the evening faded. The faerie lights dimmed. The food was gone. The ribbons no longer glowed. Even her frost-drop crown withered on her head. Once picked, they only ever lasted the course of an evening.

She plucked the white flowers from her hair with a sigh. “It was lovely while it lasted.”

“Let’s get you back,” Fordham said, taking her hand and guiding her to the horses.

She let him help her back on the horse, and they leisurely took the road back home. They passed a contingent of guards again. They nodded their heads as Kerrigan passed with Fordham, and she smiled brightly at them. She was glad that her father’s men were protecting the village. It made her rest better at night.

Halfway back to Waisley, she decided that she wasn’t ready for the night to be over.

“Come with me,” she said, turning the horse off onto a well-worn path.

“Kerrigan,” he called. He huffed behind her from the path. “Where are we going?”

But she didn’t respond. Just kept leading the horse deeper into Corsica Forest. Then, she heard Fordham trot in after her.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he grumbled.

A smile quirked on her lips. She’d heard that before.

After fifteen minutes, she pulled off onto another trail, and the forest opened to reveal a series of pools. Despite the snow coating the ground and the chill in the air, none of them were frozen over.

“What is this place?” Fordham asked.

“The Corsican Hot Springs.”

Kerrigan dropped down and tied her horse to a nearby tree. Fordham did the same but with a furrowed brow. “I can see that. What are we doing here?”

Kerrigan answered by plucking at the laces on her dress. His eyes went wide as she dropped the dress onto the forest floor, leaving her in nothing but her shift.

42

The Hot Springs

“Kerrigan?” he said softly.

“I thought you were the one who didn’t care about nudity,” she challenged.

“Yes, but…”