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16. Morna (2/2)

The bright afternoon sun filtered through green leaves and branches until it lay in dapples on the soft forest floor. The overhead shelter meant it was cold enough that Morna shivered a little at the transition, but the beauty of the shifting sunlight and shadows more than made up for it. Morna wasn't accustomed to walking in the wooded areas of Ittal, but the light green moss and deep brown bark of the trees seemed so perfect in the shade that she breathed out slowly. Afton pulled her closer, his arm curling around her waist snuggly.

A rough path had been carved into the woods by gardeners traveling back and forth between the garden wall and wherever they originated from. Afton and Morna followed it, walking over tree branches and rock slabs as they came, and forgetting that they had anywhere to be. An easiness fell over them both, stealing time and memory and leaving behind only a happy vagueness that floated Morna's heart and made her prone to bumping into Afton's hip with her own as they walked in tandem.

Afton played with her hair with his free hand, winding his fingers into her curls and then watching as they bounced back into place. Morna let him tug, even though she knew that it would look a mess by the end, because it made her smile to have him so casual around her. This was something she couldn't predict would last. Heirs did not form friendships with people who could not help their cause. A stray bond could mean a favor called in that might jeopardize the kingdom. So, Morna knew to cherish this moment with Afton while she had it.

They'd been walking for a while, though neither would know exactly how long, when the spell of lazy companionship was broken by the babbling of a brook. Morna froze dead on the path, but Afton kept walking. His arm around her waist pulled her forward until it was too late to turn back. She gritted her teeth as the hook sank deep in her stomach, the sound of water now joined by the winking flash of the brook snaking its way across the path and into a forest of ferns. The sickness of pent up yearning washed in a crushing wave over Morna until her vision blurred and her ears roared. Afton asked her something but she couldn't hear him. Only the water.

Her feet moving nearly on their own, she broke from his touch and focused solely on the brook. When her feet hit the water, it felt like a release of a dam. Her breath whooshed from her lips and she gasped as tears flooded her eyes. The water came up to her knees and she nearly sat down in it. Only Afton's voice kept her from dropping to the ground and letting the water engulf her.

"Morna, what's wrong?" he asked, hovering on the bank. He didn't want his boots wet, or perhaps he just didn't want to be closer to her than he had to. Morna choked on a sob and turned away, looking into the woods on the other side. Her relief to be in the water mixed with a burning shame.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Just go on without me."

He'd want her gone, just like all the others. Like Papa and Mama and Brenna and her aunts. She was too much trouble, too strange to even begin to understand. How could she even blame him if he wanted to return to the group and leave her behind with this ridiculous call to water? He had so many other things to worry about, adding her peculiarities to the list was not something he should be burdened with.

She waited for the sound of his retreating steps, dreading them and yet longing for them so that she could drop into the water without worrying about him seeing her shame. They never came. Instead, she heard splashing behind her, and then the feel of Afton's hand on her waist. He turned her slowly, his other hand running under her chin and tipping her head back so that he could look her in the eyes. He was a blur through her tears.

"Tell me what this is all about," he said, whisper soft. His hand dropped from her waist to twine around her own hand.

And she told him. In gasping, short, shattered sentences she told him about the obsession that she'd never even talked about with her own family. She told him of all the times she'd nearly drowned in the lake behind her old home, and of the aversion to baths and fountains that was necessary to stay in control. But not only did she tell him the tales of her wandering into water, but also what it felt like. The dread that never left her, and the exhaustion that haunted her every waking hour that she wasn't giving into the call of the water.

"I fear that one day I'll be so worn out with fighting that I'll simply not wake up," she said. "Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't be easier to let it win and end the constant battles."

"No," Afton said, bending to catch her other hand and bringing both of them to his chest. His face was mere inches from hers, his eyes tender. "Never say that, Morna. The fight is always worth it because you are worth it."

"But why do I feel this way?" she asked, frustration and desperation giving an edge to her voice. "What sickness do I harbor? It isn't natural to want to drown yourself. It's disgusting."

"It's not," Afton said, kissing her knuckles. She blinked in surprise at the feel of his lips, momentarily jarred from the darkness of her despair.

Afton continued, "How can it be disgusting when it is something that comes from you? You're so far beyond anything that I ever thought could exist in this world, Morna. You offer your friendship to me without expectations of gaining anything from my position. You make me laugh and you talk about books and music and everything that brightens my day. Just seeing you lifts my heart."

"A- Afton," Morna murmured, so startled she tried pulling away. He didn't let go of her hands, though his grip was gentle. "I don't know what to say to such..."

"Then don't say anything! That's what I love about you, Morna, you don't say things you don't mean."

Morna's ears rung with the mention of love. It reverberated in her chest before coming to an earth-shattering rest in her heart. Afton saw the change in her face, and he stilled.

"Morna."

With shaking voice she answered, "Yes?"

"This curse that haunts you," he said, his hands stealing from her hands to her face. "I'll love it if you let me. I'll love it... just as much as I love you." As his lips shaped the words that stopped her heart, he leaned in close and let them brush against her own. She stood stock still at first, not wanting to scare him or not wanting to scare herself. But then his kiss deepened and she pressed forward, crying so hard that she shook beneath his mouth. He held her steady with one arm, and she knew that if he hadn't she would have fallen over.

Even though it was her first love, she knew it would be the only one she'd ever have.


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