Corin had given Océane the most wonderful afternoon. As usual, he had been charm itself and amused her with stories about his life. They were mostly stories that made her laugh at his expense, and she liked him all the more for that. He made her feel as though there was simply nowhere in the world he would rather be and whether it was true or not she was happy to believe it. The picnic had been delicious, and far from looking at her with disgust as she ate like a glutton, he seemed to enjoy her enthusiasm, and encouraged her to try everything on offer. Now they sat, replete, looking out at the rain sheeting down on the lake in front of them. The thunder storm that had been threatening all day worsened with every moment and the rain had begun in earnest the moment they had entered the folly.
There was a lull in the conversation, nothing awkward, just the comfortable sort where both parties were at ease and willing to admire the scenery for a moment. Océane sighed, feeling it strange to find such contentment given the circumstances. She listened to the rain as it hit the deep, cold water and smiled as thunder rumbled overhead once again. She had always loved storms, even when she was a child. Somehow knowing that everyone must submit to the power of nature, that no matter if you were a lonely, dependent child or a successful adult you could do nothing to stop the onslaught of the tempest was a thought that had comforted her. Everyone was equal in the eye of a storm. Turning a little, she stole a glance at Corin out of the corner of her eye. He was sat back in the corner of the folly, angled towards her but with his head turned to look out over the dark water. His gaze lifted to the troubled sky overhead and she felt suddenly afraid for him as the glowering clouds seemed to reflect in his eyes. She wondered just what it was that made him look so lost and she wondered if he would allow her to be his friend, to give him someone to confide in. She remembered what he had said when they first met, that Laen was his oldest and dearest friend but that he would stand against him if he tried to start a war with the human world. Perhaps that was what made him look so sorrowful.
She considered the tension between the two men earlier when Corin had interrupted something and she hoped he hadn’t misjudged things. As far as she could see, she was only making things far worse for them both. The thought of the two of them fighting each other made her hands sweat, and she rubbed them on her dress. Though why she should worry about Laen was quite beyond her, she only knew that she did.
Corin looked up, obviously feeling the weight of her gaze on him, and he gave her a smile that made her breath catch. Not because it was flirtatious or seductive but simply because he seemed to sense her concern and was grateful for it. She returned the smile and watched his expression change, saw desire darken his eyes, and she looked quickly away. She was well aware that he had been on his best behaviour, although she had to admit to a moment’s alarm when she had seen the secluded setting for their picnic. She knew now that he was a terrible womaniser; or perhaps it was a wonderful womaniser. So far, however, despite her misgivings it had been delightful. She couldn’t help the suspicion, however, that there was an ulterior motive at work somewhere and she wished she could figure it out. Her instincts told her there was something inherently good about Corin and she had decided to trust in the belief that despite his sly nature, his actions were motivated by the best of intentions.
She would just have to wait and see.
***
So far, Corin congratulated himself, he had behaved impeccably in very trying circumstances. A picnic in a folly, in the pouring rain seemed to him to be the most perfect of settings for seduction, and yet he had kept his distance and his flirting to a minimum.
Frankly it was killing him.
Worse than that, the girl seemed to be at ease with him, which was troubling to say the least. Generally speaking a woman found alone in his company would either throw herself at him with no encouragement whatsoever or was as tense as an antelope in a lion’s den.
This was new and would be rather puzzling if not for the wistful expression on her face. He knew with no question in his mind that despite everything he had done, she would rather be sat here with Laen than with him. It seemed grossly unfair, but then you couldn’t fight chemistry. On the one hand he was glad; he would give anything to see his friend happy and if it meant he could see that the human race really was just the same as the Fae then he should welcome it with open arms ... and he did.
He did.
Truly.
He watched the rain tear at the treetops like a lover shaking his mistress in a jealous rage and he tried to smother the feelings that threatened to bubble up and overwhelm him. It was getting harder, so much harder to keep everything at bay. To carry on laughing and presenting this shallow façade to the world, to his family, his lovers ... to everyone he cared for.
He wondered how long it would be before he was swallowed up by the jaws of a fate he could do nothing but run from, when the burden would finally drag him down into madness or worse - destroy everything he loved. He almost wished it would happen now... He was so tired, tired of running.
He looked up to find Océane watching him with such concern in her eyes that his heart ached. He wondered what it would feel like to be loved by someone like her and to spend his life loving her in return. He imagined his home filled with their children, laughing and shouting and causing chaos, and he felt overwhelmed with longing. He watched as she saw the need in his eyes and quickly turned away, and he knew it was not something he was ever destined to have. He swallowed down the bitterness that followed the realisation and focused on the job he had been given. That, at least, he could accomplish.
“Do you trust me, my dear?” he asked.
He watched her eyes widen and could almost see the words not as far as I could throw you flicker through her mind but then her expression changed and she seemed to consider her answer more thoroughly.
“Yes.”
Corin sighed inwardly. “What, no maybe or I’m not sure, a definitive yes?”
Océane chuckled, clearly amused by his demeanour, and she nodded.
He huffed and sat back, folding his arms. “You really shouldn't, my dear. I’ve warned you before, the Fae are a tricky race and most untrustworthy.” He sat forward again, looking at her intently. “Are you quite sure?”
She snorted with laughter. “Would it please you if I changed my answer?”
“No, no ...” He waved his hand dismissively and sighed. “I’m just not sure how I feel about being trustworthy. On the one hand I’m very glad, as I need you to trust me but on the other it makes me feel like I’m your favourite Uncle or something, and that is most discouraging.”
Océane reached out and patted his arm in a consolatory manner. “I’ve never had an Uncle, favourite or otherwise, but I’m quite sure if I did he would be nothing like you.”
Corin’s lips twitched in amusement and he took the hand on his arm in his and kissed the knuckles gently while looking deep into her eyes. It was an old-fashioned move but one that never failed to steal a woman’s breath - human or Fae. But he found nothing in her eyes aside from affection and friendship. He was taken aback by just how much that hurt. He let her hand go and busied himself for a moment by putting the picnic things back in the hamper.
Friendzoned.
He had heard the expression the last time he had been in the human world and had been puzzled as to its meaning. He felt he had just been given an example that explained it in stunning clarity.
He ignored the look of surprise Océane gave him before she helped him pack the things away. They both knew if he had been going to make a pass at her, that would have been the time and he tried hard not to notice her relief. She looked puzzled, as if she was aware she had hurt his feelings but couldn’t figure out how.
By the time the picnic things were packed away, Corin had his charming smile firmly back in place and he withdrew her book carefully from his jacket pocket.
Océane bit her lip.
“You are a very talented young woman; it is the most beautiful binding I have ever seen, and I have quite an extensive collection,” he told her, stroking the delicate design with a careful finger.
“Thanks,” she muttered and looked at her feet.
Corin took hold of her hand and gave a gentle squeeze.
“Don’t worry, my dear, I’m not going to interrogate you but I would like you to tell me the absolute truth.” He used his free hand to turn her head so she could see the sincerity in his eyes. “Will you do that? Please?”
She looked up at him and he could see the fear in her eyes. “You won’t believe me.” She snorted and shrugged hopelessly. “I don’t believe me! It’s ... preposterous!”
He returned the book to his pocket and clasped her hand between both of his as though he was giving her his word. “I promise you that I will.”
She looked out over the dark water and he did the same. He would not pressure her into speaking. She would tell him when she was ready. He suppressed a shiver, the only warmth in his body the place where his hands held onto Océane’s and watched as the rain beat down upon the surface of the lake with fury, as though envious of its voluminous depths. Océane sighed and was silent for a moment more before she blurted out her answer. “I made it up.”
Corin nodded. “How?”
“What do you mean?” She looked at him, her expression one of incredulity and disbelief that he could simply accept her answer.
He turned her hand and traced a pattern on her palm. “I mean did you sit down and think about what you wanted to write, did you dream about it, did you wake up one morning and the story was there in your head? What made you write about him like this?”
Océane frowned and looked back at the lake. Corin thought she looked uncomfortable, and gave her hand another gentle squeeze before letting it go. “It will be our secret if you prefer, my dear, but I really have to know.”
She slumped back against the wall of the folly and stared out at the same view. “To tell the truth I can hardly remember. I’ve always made up stories you see ... in my head. Day dreams I suppose but ... But I don’t often write them down.” She lifted her hand to her mouth and chewed at a nail as Corin waited for her to continue. “As far as I remember I made him up when I was a teenager,” she said, her cheeks flushing as she spoke. He could sense that she really hated talking about her past. She clasped her hands in her lap, the fingers entwined so hard her knuckles turned white. “I--I was very unhappy. You see I was orphaned when I was a baby and I had just been rejected by a possible family. I had stayed with them for a few weeks but ... it didn’t work out. They thought I was too old to fit in with them. They said I was too difficult.” His heart contracted as he saw a tear slide down her face and she brushed it away with an angry movement. He didn’t know what to say to her. More than anything he ached to take her in his arms, to hold her and promise that he would never let her be alone again, that neither of them would be alone again, but he knew she would not want that, so instead he stroked her hair gently, tucking a strand behind her ear. “I am so very sorry, Océane, truly. I had no idea.”
She shrugged as though it was unimportant, as though it hadn’t shaped her whole life. “It was a long time ago.”
“And so you made up the story of The Dark Prince, about a boy who was hurt by his family and swore to take his revenge?”
She nodded and smiled at him gratefully as though she was relieved that he had understood and she didn’t have to explain it to him. “I ... I would lose myself in books and make-believe worlds. My mind was always full of these most amazing Fairy stories.” She laughed and shook her head. “I have no idea where they came from ... Some of the things I came up with were ...” A strange expression lit her eyes, as though she was afraid but she shook it off and gave a sheepish grin. “And I just ... made him up.” She took hold of his hand this time, looking at him with wide eyes. “Do you believe me?”
He squeezed her fingers gently before getting up and pulling her to her feet. “I believe you.”
Océane looked at him as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Hope glistened in her eyes and she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Corin. Thank you so much.”
Corin smiled at her and nodded, and thought that a kiss had never made him feel so very sad in all his life.
“Come, my dear, it appears the rain has eased for a moment so let me take you back before Laen decides to try and drown us again.”
She stopped in her tracks, frowning at him. “Before Laen decides?”
Corin looked down at her and was glad for the sting of the cold air against his face. “Why yes, have you still not understood?” He gestured to the unhappy scene around them as the wind and rain beat against the landscape. “The land is tied to us in every way and the weather in our land is no exception. It reflects the mood of the ruler.”
There was a dissonant growl of thunder in the distance and lightening branched out across a sullen sky that grew darker by the moment.
He heard Océane gasp as another clap of thunder assaulted their ears and vibrated up from the ground so hard it made his teeth rattle. “Shit,” she whispered, but the wind tore away her obscenity.
“Quite so, my dear,” Corin said over the din. “I think we should make haste.”
They set off back through the woodland. Corin knew exactly what he would face when he got to the castle and he welcomed the thought of it. He felt suddenly that he wanted to go home, back to his own land, even though he felt sure it would be raining there too.