His light brown hair is plastered to his forehead and cheeks, and his dark eyelashes glisten in the sunlight. His skin is perfection, not a freckle or a blemish on his gorgeous face. Lips the color of my mom’s prized pink roses are parted as he breathes.
The thin button-up shirt is molded to his body, and although most pre-teen boys don’t have much muscle definition, he does. He’s wearing loose-fitting khaki pants, and I wonder if he was at church earlier. I doubt it, though. There’s only one church in this small town, and there’s no way I would’ve missed him. New people stick out like a sore thumb around here, especially if they look like movie stars.
Maybe his family just moved to Ivesdale.
His eyes flutter open, and I swallow hard. I’ve never seen such a color on a person before—they’re lavender. It’s gotta be contacts.
I think of my own appearance, and self-consciousness makes me want to run away.
But I can’t.
I can’t allow this guy to get hypothermia.
“Take off your shirt,” I blurt out, and heat bursts over my cheeks as I shake my pink jacket and hat in his direction. “I mean, I won’t look or anything. You need to get into something dry.”
“Thank you, peasant.” He sits up. “But that’s not necessary.”
Did he just call me a … peasant? No. That couldn’t have been right.
“This water is—” Leaning his head to the side, he closes his eyes before opening them again. “About ten meters wide, yes?”
“About.” I nod. “Why?”
“The portal needs to be twenty feet to the east,” he mutters to himself. “Strike it all.”
“Huh? Strike… what?” Is he speaking the same language as me? His voice has a bit of an accent, but I can’t place it. It’s not quite British. He just hits his T’s a little hard and some of his vowels sound off.
Suddenly, I get a prickly sensation on my arm, then I feel a static shock on my wrist.
“Ow.” I rub the tingling spot.
“My apologies. I shouldn’t use such foul language in front of a lady. I didn’t think it would affect you here.”
“Affect me?” What the heck is he talking about?
“Yes. I shocked you.” It’s the first thing he’s said that makes sense.
“I’ll say. Finding you in my creek is the surprise of my life.”
“Well, I’m sorry for the inconveniences I’ve caused you.” Standing, he shakes his hair, spraying droplets all around him like a dog after a bath.
Confused, I dry my face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. “It’s no problem.”
Wringing out his shirt, he faces me. “You saved me, peasant. I owe you a boon.”
My jaw pops open. He seriously did call me a peasant. Rude. The pretty melodic lilt of his voice isn’t so cute when he’s calling me names. “Stop saying that.”
“What?” He seems clueless.
“Peasant.”
“Why? Are you royalty? Nobility?”
“No.”
“Then you’re a peasant.”
I’ve been called worse. Much worse.
But being bullied by kids at school isn’t the same as being insulted by the most perfect person I’ve ever seen.
“Stop.” I stomp my foot.
He sniffs. “I won’t take orders from a child.”
I sputter. “I’m almost thirteen, and you’re a kid, too. Whatever. We need to get you to the house so you can warm up. How long were you in there?” I point at the creek. “The closest neighbor isn’t for half a mile, and I’m pretty sure you didn’t come from the Hunts’ house.”
“What’s a hunts house?”
“Exactly.” If he doesn’t know the Hunt family, then he definitely isn’t from around here. “Where did you come from?”
“The Night Realm.”
“Oookay.” Maybe he’s worse off than I thought. Are hallucinations a symptom of freezing to death? “Follow me. My mom’s got hot chocolate.”
“Wait.”
The command stops me mid-turn, and I glance back at him. The sun shines down on his head, creating a halo effect. Geez. Could anyone be more gorgeous? It seriously isn’t fair how some people get genes like that. “What?”
He extends an arm. “Guide me to land.”
That’s when I realize he isn’t looking directly at my face. In fact, he doesn’t seem to be focusing on anything in particular.
I wave a hand. His eyes don’t follow. Just to be sure, I flip him the middle finger. No response.
“You can’t see?” I ask, my voice soft.
His lips press together, and he grits out, “Yes, I’m blind.”
“Oh.” Suddenly his rudeness doesn’t sting as much. “What’s your name?”
“Kirian.”
“I’m Quinn. Not peasant. Okay?”
“Okay. Since we’re requesting titles, you can call me ‘Your Majesty.’”
I bark out a laugh. “Uh, not happening.”
I pace over to him and stare at the hand waiting for me. I’ve never held hands with a boy, and the fact that I get to touch Kirian has me giddy inside. He gets to be my first hand-holding experience, even if it is just to help him get across the dock.
The second my skin grazes his, I gasp. Because he’s warm.
He’s not shivering. His lips aren’t blue.
That shouldn’t be possible.
Once our fingers link, sliding into place like two perfectly matched pieces, my heart goes wild.
Nothing has ever felt this right, and for a selfish second, I’m glad he’s blind. He can’t see how plain I am. For all he knows, I’m as pretty as Savanah Welch, the most popular girl in my seventh-grade class.
It gives me a boost of confidence.
But as soon as our feet get to the dirt path, he lets go. “Please direct me to the honeysuckle field, and I’ll be on my way.”
Still concerned for his health, I tilt my head. “Huh?”
I didn’t think anyone knew about the meadow but me. It’s smackdab in the middle of the forest in a large clearing. I like going there during the summer when the flowers are in full bloom.
“That’s why I’m here,” Kirian replies. “My mother likes honeysuckle wine. We don’t have those flowers in the Night Realm.”
There are too many things wrong with his statement. “First of all, I don’t know what a night realm is. Is that like a Dungeons and Dragons thing? Because I’d totally be into that. Also, it’s
