The speed of my fall drags my head under and water enfolds me into cold darkness. I force my eyes open to get my bearings, but all I can see are the billowing folds of my dress. Precious seconds slip by as I paw my skirts aside. When my view is no longer obstructed, I catch a glimpse of the surface. The moon, a glowing pearl, ripples far out of my reach. I must have sunk farther than I thought.

I drag my arms through the water and kick my legs. My movement is slow, but the moon grows ever slightly larger and the water a little colder. When my lungs start to burn, I try not to panic. I claw my way toward the pale light, fighting for every inch. The motions grows more difficult with each pull.

Relief floods me when hands grab me around the waist.

But these aren't the hands of my rescuer. Instead of helping me to the surface, they pull me deeper into the water. I drive an elbow behind me and hit something hard. A stomach? A ribcage?

The hands slip, but they are quick to recover.

Black spots appear in my vision, but I still fight. I fight against my attacker. I fight to reach the surface, but my limbs move slower and slower.

A sadness grows in me when I wonder if this was how Morel felt when he died. Desperate. Fighting till the bitter end.

My lungs spasm and water rushes in when there is no air to be found. I can fight no more. The water has won. Reflexes take over and my hands fly up to clutch at my neck and the wretched choking feeling. My vision fades in and out, but the last things I see is Destan pushing me deeper and deeper into the warm embrace of the water's depths and the glow of the moon getting smaller and smaller behind him.

***

My eyes fly open and my body expels the watery contents of my lungs and perhaps my stomach onto the lawn. When I'm done, I fall onto my back and draw in a rattling breath. A group of shocked courtiers crowd around me. Their faces depict the range of emotions from concern to disgust to entertained and it makes me cringe. The sight of them is nothing compared to the sight of Destan kneeling at my side. Anger and fear roar over everything else in my mind. I swing a fist across my body and clip him square in his perfect jaw.

The crowd gasps in shock and delight. I cry out as pain shoots through my hand. I must have caught Destan off guard to land the blow. He recovers quickly and takes hold of my wrists before I can take another swing at him. If I could I would, but he is out of danger. A single punch was all I had left in me. I fight to keep my eyes open, but an inviting blackness nudges at the corners of my vision. Still, I have enough fire in my belly to fix Destan with a warning glare before I pass out again.

***

The smell of freshly baked bread greets me before I open my eyes. I blink away sleep and take in my surroundings: a spartan room with a sloped ceiling bisected by the wooden crossbeams of a roof. The walls are painted a soft white and display elegant little landscapes in simple wood frames. The glow of morning sunlight fills the room with a warm haze. The peacefulness of it all lasts only a moment before the previous night's events come rushing back.

I startle when I spy Destan seated in a leather armchair. Upon seeing me awake, he jumps to his feet. I attempt to rise, but something holds my hands and feet in place. My breath quickens when I find my wrists and ankles are tied to the posts of the bed.

Destan senses my panic. "Please, Florette. Please calm down."

"What are you doing?" The words come out in a croak. My throat is raw and every grating breath is painful. "Why am I tied up?"

Destan takes a step towards me.

"Get away from me!" I try to yell but the words come out in a bark no louder than a whisper.

"They're for your safety." He rubs the shadow of a bruise on his jaw. "And for the safety of others."

I strain against the ties. "For my safety? You were the one trying to drown me!"

Destan's face falls. "No. I was trying to save you, but you fought me the entire way — not that I should be surprised. I suspect your stubbornness will be your eventual undoing, but you don't seem suicidal."

"No. No I'm not," I grate out.

"Then what were you doing? What happened on that boat?" His clear eyes press against me, burning with a concern that unsettles everything in me.

I glare at him. "Untie me and then we'll talk."

He purses his lips. "Fine. But if you take another swing at me I'll clap you in irons."

"I'd like to see you try."

He ignores my blustering but a smile lifts the corner of his lips. We both know he would win in a fight, but I'd certainly never make it an easy one.

He tries to work the knots loose, but my struggling has pulled them tight. My breath catches in my throat as his fingers brush against the tender skin of my wrist. If Destan hears the change in my pulse, he doesn't remark on it.

With all my limbs free, I shift slowly into a sitting position and Destan returns to the armchair across the room. My head aches in protest to the movement. I clutch a hand to my head and I'm surprised to find that my wig has been removed. It's likely I lost it in the canal, but I'm more concerned with the realization that I'm only wearing my nightgown. "Where is my dress?"

Destan's cheeks flush and he fixes his gaze to the floor. "Lavernia came by. She and her maids got you out of your wet clothes and into bed. The physician has been by as well. He believes you'll make a full recovery."

"And is this..." I wave a hand at the drab little space and pull the blankets around my shoulders for modesty's sake, "an infirmary?"

"It's..." Destan keeps his eyes lowered. "It's my room."

"Oh," is all I manage to say. The room appears to be just a place to sleep in. It's cozy, but his office seemed much more lived in.

A few awkward seconds pass before Destan says, "Je suis desole. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, but I didn't want to carry you, dripping wet, through the palace. It might have raised more questions–"

"Of course," I reply.

He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Now. Would you care to tell me what happened last night?"

My stomach clenches as certain parts of the evening's events come to mind. "What parts could you overhear?"

"I caught snippets of your conversation throughout dinner. Start with the concert. I had to leave to handle an issue with the king's guards."

I recount the entirety of my conversation with Charlotte, Jeanne, and Louise, with exception of my admission of wanting to kiss Destan. I succeed at relating the entire tale without blushing, but my eyes snag several times at the scar on Destan's lip. It doesn't help that he worries the scar with his thumb when he's thinking. "It was the strangest feeling. When they told me to tell the truth, I actually wanted to tell them anything. When they told me to drink I drank without reservation."

"L'influence," Destan breathes. "The gifts of the Fae vary from person to person, but this gift is exceptionally rare."

"And incredibly dangerous. We are lucky they were only interested in my relationship with you. I could answer their questions selectively, but if they asked specifically enough, I would have been powerless to hide anything from them."

"And it is Madame Jeanne la Marquise de Buchard who has this power?"

"Yes..." I pause. "And Queen Henriette, which brings me to how I ended up at the bottom of the canal."

Destan ducks his head and lets out a long sigh through his nose.

"Apparently, Jeanne didn't extract the exact information Queen Henriette wanted from me," I continue. "She wanted to know 'if something had begun, something that can't be undone.'" I watch Destan for his reaction, but the spy is too good at hiding his emotions. "Then she used L'influence to command me to go for a swim. Even the fact that I don't know how to swim didn't stop me. I'm surprised and quite alarmed that she used her power so openly. Perhaps she thought I would attribute my complaisence to the champagne and not magic."

I stop when I think Destan might say something, but he doesn't. His eyes are unfocused as if his thoughts are elsewhere.

I continue on, desperate to fill the heavy silence. "I still don't understand what happened when I went under the water. I must have been at least somewhat confused by too much drink, because I could have sworn you were pulling me down instead of up. The moon was behind you — at least I think it was—"

"Florette." The seriousness with which Destan speaks my name stops me short. "For the sake of transparency I must tell you something." If I hadn't had his attention before I have it now. His gaze holds mine intensely, unflinching.

"D'accord," I reply with a nervous laugh, but I won't let my eyes waver from his.

"Do you remember what I told you some time ago about my instinct to protect you?"

I nod.

"Well, I wasn't completely honest and what I suspected. The desire of a Faerie to protect another is often the first sign of a bonding. A mating bond."

My heart twists inside my chest. Destan waits for my reaction, but I have too many questions running through my mind to think straight. Instead, I let him continue.

"There are two ways Fae can be bonded. In rare cases the bond is instant. Eyes meet and boom." Destan laces his fingers together. "Their lives are forever intertwined. It doesn't necessarily mean love right away, but it's something deeper and irreversible. A connection that cannot be severed."

"And what's the second way?" I ask, my hands trembling as I clutch the blanket tighter around me. I'm not sure if it's nerves at what he might say next or if it's exhaustion setting in from the previous night's ordeal.

"The second way is slower and follows an equation of sorts. Or hurdles — except you can cross them in any order. Shielding, sacrifice, physical intimacy, and finally the sealing, but that comes last. As I'm sure you've guessed, and as Queen Henriette suspected, I have begun shielding you — I will protect you at all costs."

"I see... but I'm not a Faerie." Guilt turns sickeningly in my gut. "As unlikely as it is, I'm sure I would defend you if you were unable to defend yourself, but just last night I punched you... in the face. Why does Queen Henriette care that you're shielding me? I clearly can't share in these instincts because I'm human."

"I know," Destan says. "But she is thinking of her sister. Once the bond has begun, it cannot be undone. At this stage, I could walk away from our bond with little consequence on my side, but I'll never bond with another until you die."

I go still as I feel the icy stab of fear. "Was Queen Henriette trying to kill me?"

"I don't think so. I believe she was only trying to see if I was shielding you. Perhaps she was trying to kill two birds with one stone."

"Will she try to kill me now?"

"I don't think so. I'm only a demi-faerie and was of little interest to them to begin with."

"Then I have ruined the Order's plan to get you into the queen's inner circle."

"Perhaps it's for the best that you ruined our plans. You are the first to discover Queen Henriette's possession of L'influence."

I straighten. "But this bonding — that's not fair to you." Or to me.

"Perhaps not, but please know that I don't expect anything from you — it's why I didn't want to tell you."

"So why are you telling me now?"

"Because bonds are rare. I didn't want to alarm you until I was certain, but now I want you to have all the information you need to make sure you don't unintentionally do anything to deepen my bond to you."

Realization dawns on me like a punch to the gut. He doesn't want to be bonded to me. It's not like I wanted to be his mate, but his rejection of me still stings. "I'm sorry your bond has been wasted on someone who cannot be bonded to you in return," I reply, unsuccessfully hiding my bitterness. "I don't want to make things worse for you so what shouldn't I do?"

"Obviously avoiding romantic physical intimacy shouldn't be a problem for us," he says with a grin, though he looks almost pained at the thought of it.

My bitterness turns to shame at the realization that he is so repulsed at the prospect of kissing me. "What about sacrifice? What kind of sacrifice?" I ask, desperate to change the subject.

"To deepen our bond, we must sacrifice something deeply personal for the other."

"Oh. That should be easy to avoid." I certainly don't feel in a sacrificial mood.

"Maybe, but I just sacrificed all my progress with Mademoiselle Charlotte and Queen Henriette to save your life."

My stomach drops. "Well, has the bond grown stronger? Do you feel any different about me today than you did yesterday?"

He shifts nervously in his chair. "Possibly. I don't know. This is all new to me."

His answer isn't helpful so I move on. "So what is the sealing."

"That — that is when we both agree to seal our bond. It's a ceremony of sorts so there's no chance of stumbling into that one."

"So that's it? I shouldn't kiss you or sacrifice something for you?"

"Not unless you want me to become obnoxiously territorial, jealous, and clingy, it's for the best."

I wrinkle my nose. "Perhaps it is."

His brow furrows and his lips draw into a frown. "I'm am truly sorry, Florette. I didn't want to put all this on you. Believe me, if I could cut out that part of me, I would, but here we are." His pain is clearly evident on his face.

His pain tugs at my heart and something snaps in me. "Don't say that!" I say in a rush of emotion. "You have saved too many lives, mine included, to talk about yourself like that. Your instincts are part of who you are. Inconvenient for us though they may be, we are all made of parts good and bad."

The pain on Destan's face is replaced by something else. His eyes dance over me, but he doesn't speak.

"I should really go," I say to end the prolonged silence.

At my word, Destan seems to find himself again. "There's a dress for you at the foot of the bed. Lavernia said you shouldn't have any trouble with it on your own." His cheeks flush.

I glance at the simple cotton dress. "I should be fine."

When I don't move, Destan clears his throat awkwardly. "I'll wait in the hall."

He steps out and I throw on the dress. It feels strange without a corset beneath it, but I only plan to wear it back to my apartments. I button up the front panels and my mind feels as jumbled and sluggish as my fingers. I don't know where to begin: my hurt feelings or the logistics of avoiding a deeper bond to Destan. Both fight for my attention now that I'm alone with my thoughts.

I finish dressing and pull on the pair of boots that wait for me on the floor. I have much to think about, so when I slip into the hall and find Destan occupied in conversation with one of his guards, I slip away. I'm certain he notices; nothing escapes his attention, but he doesn't even spare me a glance over his shoulder.