He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

Dark, chestnut hair swept elegantly over his brow. Head held high, his olive brown face glimmered in the sunlight, flawless as a chiseled stone statue. His eyelashes were full and long, his nose straight and refined, and the curve of his soft smile formed a perfect outline of Cupid’s famous bow. She stared at him from behind the green, blossoming trees, watching as he strode regally through the wood, and sighed.

Looking at him was like looking into the surface of the sun. The sight was impossibly beautiful and bright, able to light up her day in an instant. And yet it blinded her. Caused her to burn with the heavy weight of her unsung love. The worst part was, she knew nothing would come of it. She knew he would only hurt her, in the end. She’d heard the stories of Ameinias and Dané, tragic tales ending in blunt rejection. But she could not bring herself to focus on anyone—or anything—else. All other joys were dim candles compared to her lovely Narcissus.

She craned her neck to get a better look—and stumbled, leaves rustling and twigs snapping on impact.

“Is someone here?” Narcissus glanced around viligantly, shielding his eyes with his hand. Blushing, she stood, her cover blown.

“Here,” she called. May as well take her chance now, she thought, stepping toward him with the sweetest smile she could muster, arms outstretched. His dark eyes focused on her, looking her up and down, and for a moment, hope blossomed in her chest. No one had ever won his affections before, true, but who was to say she couldn’t be the first?

Then he scoffed under his breath.

“I can’t stay,” he said. She blinked, tears filling her eyes.

“Stay.” Sculpted nose now wrinkled, he shook his head.

“I don’t want you to love me.” The harsh words cut deep, like shards of glass in her chest. She never should have tried to speak to him—at least before, she still had the possibility of a chance. Now she had nothing but a sad, withered heart. Trailing behind him as he turned away, she could only grasp his elbow and whisper one last plea.

“Love me.”

He faced her, a sneer contorting his rosy lips.

“Get away from me.”

She fell to the dirt, blubbering nonsense as she watched him leave. More than anything, she wanted to run after him and tell him how much she loved him, needed him. How his face was like an angel’s and his voice was music and, though she’d only known him a short time, she couldn’t imagine her life without him in it. She wanted to scream and cry and spill the contents of her heart out into the world with her words.

But she could not even string together a single, proper sentence.