“Florien has been quiet,” I commented.
“He knows to stay hidden,” Rivyn replied. “It is no hardship to him to while away the time in our bags, growing fat on the food you keep supplying him. By the time we reach Arsiath, he will be a fairy ball, unable to fly due to the weight of his stomach.”
I giggled at the image that brought to mind and rolled onto my stomach so I could look up at him. He brushed his lips over mine, his dark hair falling over us both, before leaning back against the lip of the bath, the tips of his hair spreading in the water and his eyes closing to slits, their blue trapped within the dark points of his eyelashes.
“You are like a magic spell,” I told him, admiring his beauty. “Night, amber, sapphire, and wine, mix well in a bathtub to make a Fae Prince.”
