Havenfall (Havenfall #1)(8)

Still, it’s hard to believe the inn hasn’t been here forever—it looks so timeless, so natural. The inn is massive, built right into the side of the mountain so it looks almost like it’s growing from the earth. A sprawling creation of cedar and slate, girded by staircases and balconies. A waterfall behind the inn turns into a winding stream that circles the inn like a silver ribbon before feeding into Mirror Lake. A wide paved drive in front holds a mixture of cars and horse-drawn carriages, cherry paint and polished wood, chrome fenders and the flanks of horses standing side by side.

Haven—not the town, but the world, Earth—doesn’t have its own magic, obviously. That’s why the other realms see it as neutral territory. But the spark that lights up in my chest as we crest the ridge is a kind of magic too, I can’t help but think.

We coast down the slope toward the lake. Taya’s spine is rigid, her knuckles tight on the handlebars. She stops the bike before we reach the bridge and kicks out a foot to hold us upright.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. My voice comes out embarrassingly high and breathy. I want to leap off the bike and run. All my tiredness seems to have evaporated. But Taya is still.

“That’s a lot of water,” I hear her say, quietly.

“We don’t have to swim across it. There’s a bridge.”

“I see that.” She turns back to give me an irritated glance, and one of her braids hits the side of my helmet. She swings off the bike, forcing me to grab the handlebars to stay on. Something in her voice lets a chill seep in. I dismount too and pull off the helmet, my legs cramping and my heart beating fast from the ride.

It’s easier to look at Taya when she’s glaring at Mirror Lake and not at me. She’s smaller than I originally thought, shorter than me and slight beneath the bulk of the jacket. Her face is closed off, expressionless.

“It’s safe,” I say. “Look, all those cars got across it fine.”

“You can go ahead if you want,” she says, standing stiffly beside the bike. “I’m walking, so I’ll be slower.”

My stomach twists. She did me a solid, taking me here after I made her crash, even if it was 50 percent her fault. It feels wrong to just leave her now. “I’ll come with you.”

Her mouth turns down, but she nods, and we walk over the water, Taya wheeling the bike in neutral along the bridge and me trailing behind. She flinches when the old wood creaks beneath us. If she notices how the ground is dry here—despite the all-consuming rain in Haven—she doesn’t comment on it.

Halfway across, a gust of wind sweeps down the mountain, making the trees and the bridge sway, and Taya freezes. I almost run into her.

“Sorry,” she whispers.

“It’s okay.” I mean it this time, because I know what it’s like to have seemingly irrational fears.

“We’re blocking the bridge,” she says.

“It’s late. I doubt anyone else is coming tonight.” But my words don’t seem to land. Taya is staring straight ahead with a lost expression marring her face. I think of something to distract her. If she’s going to be here all summer, maybe it doesn’t matter if I tell her a secret or two.

“My uncle says this water shows you as your best self,” I say, drifting to the wooden railing to my right. “Do you want to take a look?”

A harsh laugh escapes her. “Not really,” she says, but puts down the kickstand and joins me anyway.

As our images form in the water below, I almost wish she hadn’t.

I’d forgotten why I always avoided this lake when I ran around the grounds as a kid with Brekken. His reflection matches him perfectly, but for me, Mirror Lake seems to reflect something other than real life and nothing I could ever aspire to be. The Maddie in the water looks serene and happy. Even without a smile this Maddie looks ethereal, like nothing anyone says—nothing the world can do—can touch her.

And that’s not me. Not the girl who feels constantly scraped raw by the cruel words that have sunk through my skin and nestled in my heart, braiding with the poisoned strands of lingering memories to create something heavy, dense, and thorny. The Maddie in the water is just another bit of Havenfall magic. A fantasy.

I glance over at Taya, the ease of earlier having vanished, hoping she isn’t looking at my reflection. She’s not. She looks troubled, her brow furrowed and lips flattened into a line, even though her reflection seems to more or less match what I see.

Before I can think of something to say, she crouches down, picks up a pebble stuck in between the planks of the bridge, and splashes it into the water. It sounds like breaking glass, and I flinch. The water ripples, silver and black, sending our reflections to the depths.

“My parents died in a car crash going off a bridge,” she says evenly, without looking at me. “In case you were wondering why.”

I wish I had a better response than “That’s horrible. I’m sorry.”

She shrugs. “I’m fine now. Just not a fan of big bodies of water.” Gripping the railing tight, she looks over at me with those uncanny eyes. Sorrow curls in my stomach, heavy and cold. “What about you?” she asks. “Why are you here and not home working, or partying, or whatever it is normal people do with their summers?”

I feel my walls going up, my wariness rising. She’s shared a secret and now she wants one in return. Maybe the near-death experience we had earlier has pushed Taya to trust, but not me.