Neridia couldn’t believe it, but so far, the first date was turning out to be a total success.

Maybe all that work will actually pay off!

She’d left nothing to chance this time. After a long string of disastrous dates with the freaks and perverts who were attracted to her own online profile, she’d gone fishing for herself.

She’d scoured the profiles of every man within a hundred miles. She ignored their pictures—except to weed out the ones who were clearly far too good-looking for someone like her—and concentrated on their words. She’d created spreadsheets to analyze their professed interests and backgrounds and dreams, comparing them against her own.

Out of a sea of disappointment, she’d found Dave.

He came from the Loch Ness area, just like her. He liked classic Hollywood movies and gardening and long hikes through the Highlands, just like her. He dreamed of having two kids and a dog one day, just like her. He was even Scottish-Chinese, so he’d understand the challenges of growing up looking a little different from most of the other people around.

To top it off, he was a park warden! There couldn’t be a more perfect match for a conservationist. They were clearly made for each other.

And there wasn’t the slightest chance that he would ever, in a million years, message her.

So Neridia had screwed up her courage, tweaked one tiny fact on her own profile… and messaged him.

As she’d hoped, they’d instantly hit it off. Now, after two months of increasingly flirtatious online conversations, here he was, sitting in a romantic little pub on the north shore of Loch Ness. With her. And, to all appearances, having just as good a time as she was.

Neridia pinched herself again, just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

“I wish we’d done this sooner.” Dave wagged a finger at her teasingly. “I warn you, I’m not going to let you find excuses to delay our next date for another two months. No matter how busy you may be.”

Neridia shifted a little in her chair, a stab of guilt twisting her stomach. She was glad that her dark skin hid the blush rising in her cheeks.

Despite what she’d told Dave, she hadn’t been busy at all. It had been the same quiet, lonely routine as always—long, solitary treks cataloging evidence of deer activity for her job, followed by long, solitary evenings back in her small lakeside cottage. She could have gone out to meet Dave at any time.

Except, of course, that then he would have seen her. And that would have been the last she’d have seen of him.

“Oh, w-well, there’s been a lot of work to do, what with the proposal to reintroduce wolves into the area,” she said, her words sounding unconvincing even to her own ears.

She’d never been a good liar. Dave was looking at her a bit funny, as if he could tell something was up. Seeking to distract him, she placed her hand on his, smiling across the table at him.

“I’m glad we got to know each other first, before we met in person.” That was perfectly true. “Don’t you think there’s something to be said for discovering who a person is on the inside before getting distracted by what they look like on the outside?”

Dave’s furrowed brow smoothed. “Oh. And your profile picture only showed your face…Neridia, did you deliberately delay meeting me because you thought I wouldn’t be interested once I saw all of you?”

She flinched, unable to meet his eyes. “I’ve…had some bad experiences.”

“Then those guys were idiots.” She looked up in surprise, and discovered that he was smiling at her. “You’re stunning. Maybe some fools can’t appreciate a curvy woman, but I certainly do.”

“U-uh, um.” She was tongue-tied by mingled fear and hope, simultaneously marveling at how perfect he was and utterly terrified that she was about to mess it all up.

I’m never going to get a better opportunity to broach the subject.

“It, I, well…” She let go of his hand, before he could notice how much her own palm was sweating. “Um. It wasn’t my weight that I was worried about.”

Dave’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What do you mean?”

She’d made sure to arrive at the pub a full hour before they were due to meet, to ensure that she’d be safely seated behind a table before he arrived. He’d clearly been a bit surprised that she’d stayed sitting down when he’d walked up, but better to be thought a bit odd or old-fashioned rather than revealing her secret too soon.

I have to do it. I can’t stay sitting down for the rest of my life. He’d be bound to notice eventually.

“Your glass is empty,” she said, striving for a casual tone and no doubt failing miserably. “I’ll go get the next round, shall I?”

She took a deep breath, steeling her nerves.

Then she stood up.

Dave recoiled as hard as if she’d just tasered him. “Holy fucking shit!”

She’d changed one tiny detail on her online dating profile. Just one number, one single digit. She’d told herself that it was okay, that men did it all the time.

Of course, they were usually adjusting their heights in the opposite direction.

Still, it wasn’t like she’d claimed to be short. Dave should have been prepared for her to be taller than him. Five foot six inches was pretty tall for a woman, after all.

From Dave’s expression, six foot six inches clearly went past “tall” and into “monstrous.”

The raw dismay and revulsion in his previously friendly face rocked her back on her heels like a shotgun blast to the heart. She stumbled as she caught the backs of her knees on a neighboring table. Off-balance, she flung a hand out to catch herself, and only succeeded in upending the entire table with an almighty crash of breaking glass. The gang of men who’d been seated around it surged to their feet with startled curses.

“Hey, bastard-!” The angry voice stopped dead as the speaker got an eyeful of her unmistakably female curves. “Jesus Christ, the circus must be in town.”

“Nah, it’s just one of them lads what pretend to be lasses,” slurred another drunk. Neridia yelped, batting his hand away as he made a grab for her breasts. “I’ll prove it. Burst them balloons down the front of that dress.”

“Whatever it is, it spilled my drink,” growled a heavyset man who barely came up to Neridia’s elbow. “Nobody spills my drink.”

Neridia cast a frantic glance at Dave, but he was still staring up at her in frozen shock. He didn’t make the slightest move to help her as the pack of men closed in.

Turning on her heel, she fled, driven as much by that blank look of rejection as by the gang of angry drunks looking for revenge. Her stupid, oversized elbows and feet knocked into more tables and chairs as she stumbled for the door. Angry exclamations rose around her, turning into startled gasps as people craned their necks to gawp up at her.

She burst out into the night air and ran blindly down the street, hot tears of humiliation spilling from the corners of her eyes. She didn’t know where she was going, or care. All that mattered was getting away.

I should never have come. I should never have dared to hope.

I should know better by now.

This was why she never went anywhere, outside of her tiny home village where everyone already knew her. She hated being at the center of attention. She hated the way her size dragged every surrounding eye to her. She hated hearing the whispered and not-so-whispered comments rise in her wake.

Maybe it would have been tolerable if she’d been supermodel-skinny to go with the supermodel height. But a ridiculously tall, fat woman of color? The sort of comments she attracted weren’t ones of admiration. She was too big in every way. She occupied too much space just by existing.

Her lungs were burning in her chest. She was forced to stop, gasping for breath. Looking around, she realized that she’d unconsciously fled straight to the lake shore. Loch Ness spread out before her, vast and serene under the glimmering stars.

Stepping off the path, she picked her way down closer to the water. The lake’s surface seemed curiously agitated tonight, even though there was no wind. Small waves lapped over the rocks, their gentle murmur washing away some of the hurt in her heart.

She’d lived next to Loch Ness all her life, and its lonely shores had always been a place of refuge. She liked the unapologetic bigness of it, and the way it made her feel small in comparison. It was vast and wild, and yet no one could deny that it was beautiful.

She had so many happy memories of standing by the lake at night, just like this. Feeling so totally at home, surrounded by beauty and love, with the waters sparkling in front of her and a large, strong hand engulfing her own…

Neridia’s hand crept up to her neck, closing around the pendant she always wore. The single, large pearl felt warm to the touch, heated by her own body. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine it pulsed with a life of its own, like a steady, protective heartbeat.

“Miss you, Dad,” she whispered, tears prickling her eyes again.

“Oi!”

Neridia leaped at the shout, letting go of the pearl. Whipping round, to her horror she recognized the five men whose drinks she’d spilled in the pub.

There was nowhere to run. Heart hammering, Neridia could only back away as they came stumbling and swearing down the rocky slope of the lakeshore toward her.

Her left foot splashed down into cold water. For a split second, she had a mad urge to turn and dive, anything to avoid the pack of men…

Water may look pretty, my Neridia, her father had always said when she’d been little, usually while pulling her back from trying to toddle straight into the loch. But you must never forget that it is also deadly. Don’t allow it to lure you into its trap.

There was no escape that way. And though she was big, she wasn’t a fighter. She didn’t stand a chance against so many men.

“Oi, freak show!” one of them called out again, with the loud aggression of a very drunk man spoiling for a fight. “You ruined our night!”

“I-I’m so sorry.” Neridia’s mouth was dry with fear. “It was an accident.”

“Apologies won’t buy us a fresh round.” Another man thrust out his hand, palm open. “Twenty pounds. Each.”

Neridia reached for her purse, only to realize that she’d forgotten it in her headlong flight from the scene of her humiliation. Water swirled around her ankles, waves rising higher even though she hadn’t moved. It was as if the lake itself was responding to her distress, the previously calm waters becoming more and more agitated.

“I, I left my money behind in the pub,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm, as if they were all just having a perfectly civilized discussion. “But of course I’ll pay you. If we just all go back-“

“Do you take us for fools?” The spokesman for the group knotted his fists, scowling at her. “You think we’re going to let you just stroll back into public and scream for help? No, you pay us here. Now.”

“I can’t!” Neridia flung out her hands so that they could see she wasn’t lying. “Look, see, I don’t have anything!”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “What about that pretty trinket round your neck, eh?”

Neridia’s hands flew protectively to her pendant. “No. You can’t have that.”

“Fuck me, it’s a real pearl then?” One of the other men let out an impressed whistle. “What’s something like that worth?”

“I think it’s worth five spilled beers,” the spokesman said. “Hand it over, and we’ll call it quits.”

“No!” Neridia would have backed away from him even further, but the water was up to her knees now. She didn’t dare go any deeper. “Please, don’t. It was a present from my late father. It was his final gift to me before he died.”

“I see. Means something to you, does it?” The man’s face twisted with gleeful malice. “Good.”

Without warning, he lunged for her. Neridia tried to evade him, but two of the other men cut her off. In seconds, they had her pinned, rough hands closing on her wrists and forcing her arms down. The spokesman snatched the pearl pendant from around her neck, easily breaking the thin golden chain.

“No!” With the strength of desperation, Neridia twisted free of the men restraining her. “Give that back!”

The man dangled the pendant from his fist, taunting her with it. “Come and get it.”

“Your challenge,” said a deep voice, impossibly, from behind her, “is acceptable.”

Neridia whirled, and found herself staring at a man as he rose out of the lake. Water streamed from his immense shoulders and bare, muscular back. He didn’t stand up fully, but halted in a kneeling position, head bowed respectfully. His long hair shadowed his face, droplets of water glinting like diamonds in the narrow dreadlocks.

“My lady,” he said to her, completely ignoring the gang of men goggling at him from the shore. “Forgive my intrusion, but I cannot help but notice that you appear to be in need of a champion. If you would allow me the honor?”

Neridia stared at him, utterly lost for words.

Whoever he was, he appeared to take this as assent. He raised his head, his features still in shadow, and looked across at Neridia’s would-be attackers.

“I am the Walker-Above-Wave.” His voice rang out like a church bell, sending shivers through every bone in Neridia’s body. “Emissary to the Land from the Pearl Throne, Knight-Poet of the First Water, Sworn Seeker of the Emperor-in-Absence, and Firefighter for the East Sussex Fire and Rescue Service. You appear to have a treasure which does not belong to you. I strongly advise that you return it.”

As one, all five drunks gaped at him.

“You what?” one of them said at last.

“I am the Walker-Above-Wave,” the man began again, speaking more slowly this time as though he’d just revised his estimate of their intelligence sharply downward. “Emissary to the-“

“You’re fucking mental, is what you are.” The man still clutching Neridia’s pearl rallied, knotting his free fist. “Piss off, fishboy. This is none of your business.”

“As I now have the great honor of being the noble lady’s Champion in this matter, I believe that you will find that it is.” There was an odd, musical quality to his voice. Neridia couldn’t quite place his accent. “Do you wish to withdraw your challenge?”

The spokesman set his feet in an aggressive stance. “There’s five of us and one of you, fucker.”

“Ah.” The man nodded gravely, his mane of dreadlocks shifting over his massive shoulders. “Yes, that is an inconvenience. I too have other matters to which I must attend tonight. Though it is unorthodox, in the interests of concluding this disagreement swiftly, I would be pleased to duel you all simultaneously rather than sequentially.”

“Whazzat mean?” one of the drunks said, looking at the leader for translation.

The spokesman’s scowl deepened, as if he thought the stranger was mocking them all. “It means he wants to get his fucking thick head kicked in. Get him!”

It happened so quickly, Neridia could barely follow the stranger’s movements. One second, he was kneeling at her feet; the next, he’d surged past her, a solid wall of muscle interposed between her and the gang. The first two drunks to reach him were met with a blur of motion that sent them staggering back as if they’d run straight into a cliff face.

That was enough to give the rest pause. The stranger settled back into a poised, balanced stance, hands held loose and relaxed. Despite the fact that he was facing off against a pack of angry drunk men while wearing nothing more than a pair of swimming briefs, he seemed for all the world to be enjoying himself. He was even humming, a strange but unmistakably cheerful tune.

The gang closed in again, more cautiously this time. Neridia noticed that the leader was hanging back a little, letting his friends throw the first punches. She didn’t like the cold, calculating expression on his face. She wanted to shout a warning to her strange champion, but didn’t dare interrupt his concentration.

Still humming, the stranger blocked every would-be attack with his left arm while returning powerful blows with his right. Yelps and shocked curses filled the air. In short order, one man was staggering back clutching a broken nose; another wheezed helplessly on his knees, all the breath driven out of him by a seemingly casual fist to his stomach.

One of the remaining men evidently decided that he didn’t want a drink that badly, and started backing away. The stranger’s humming sharpened, like a violin crossed with a wolf’s snarl. He lunged after the retreating man, one enormous hand closing over the back of his neck.

“Only a coward seeks to retreat from a challenge honorably met.” The stranger straightened, lifting the man clean off the ground without any apparent effort whatsoever. “But if you insist, allow me to assist you.”

He spun, as if throwing a discus, and released his grip. The unfortunate man was sent hurtling through the air, limbs flailing.

Open-mouthed, Neridia followed the drunk’s trajectory. He splashed down into the shallows a good fifteen feet away.

Most of the other men retreated in a hurry, scrambling over each other in their haste to get out of the stranger’s reach. Only their leader remained, still holding Neridia’s pearl.

Except now, in his other hand, he was also holding a knife.

The stranger’s humming cut off abruptly. He went very still, focused on the blade. The man holding it grinned with vicious satisfaction.

“Not so tough now, are you?” he taunted, making the knife weave like a snake about to strike. He definitely knew how to use it. “That’s changed your tune, hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” the stranger replied, clear contempt ringing in every word. “I sang for the joy of challenge, and there is no challenge here now. Only the tedious task of exterminating vermin.”

The man’s face darkened as he worked out the insult. He paused for a second, mouth half-open as if trying to come up with a witty retort.

“Motherfucker,” he spat, and lunged.

Neridia shrieked, instinctively surging forward. She had no idea what she’d intended to do—grab his arm? Try to distract him? Protect her champion by getting stabbed herself?—but as it turned out, the stranger needed no assistance. He calmly sidestepped the attack, the knife missing his bare chest by mere inches. Grabbing the man’s arm, he gave it a sharp twist.

The leader screamed, the knife falling away from a suddenly limp hand. He sagged, only the stranger’s grasp keeping him upright.

“I can only break your bones,” the stranger told him, without any hint of pity or remorse. “And bones quickly heal. You have broken your own honor, and from that injury, there is no recovery. Go, and live with your shame, all the remaining days of your worthless existence.”

The stranger plucked Neridia’s pearl from the leader’s other hand, then tossed the man aside like a piece of garbage. The leader staggered back, curled over his broken arm. The other men grabbed him, hustling him away with nervous backward glances.

The stranger stared after them until they’d disappeared from sight, then turned, holding out his hand. Neridia’s pearl gleamed in his broad palm.

“My lady,” he said, and the voice which had been so fierce mere moments ago was now as soft and gentle as the ripples murmuring against the shore. “Thank you for the honor. I believe this is yours.”

Still feeling as if this was all some sort of dream, Neridia was already reaching out for her pendant. As her fingers brushed his skin, a jolt went through her. It was like a static shock, except a hundred times more powerful…and pleasurable. She gasped, her head jerking up.

For the first time, their eyes met.

“Yours,” the man repeated, his musical voice fading to the merest whisper. “I am yours.”

Neridia couldn’t take her fingertip off his palm, that strange, warm energy sparkling down every nerve of her body from just that tiny contact. She couldn’t stop herself from staring up into those incredibly blue eyes-

Wait.

She was staring up into his eyes.

Neridia blinked. She shot a swift, disbelieving glance downward, expecting to find that he was standing on a rock…but he wasn’t. His bare feet were at the same level as hers.

And he was taller than her.

She had only a split second to gape at the impossibility, before he crashed down to his knees in a spray of water.

“Forgive me,” he said brokenly, pressing his forehead to her hand like some ancient knight swearing fealty. “I have failed you. Forgive me.“

“Please stand up!” Neridia seized both his forearms, tugging. “I want to-I mean, I’ve never-just stand up!”

He allowed her to pull him back to his feet, unfolding again to his full height. Neridia’s breath caught in her throat.

I’m dreaming. This has got to be a dream.

She barely came up to his chin. His deep chest was thick with muscle, the gleaming skin a shade or two darker than her own. Every line of his body screamed power, from his impossibly broad shoulders to the hard curves of his thighs. He was so outsized and yet so perfectly proportioned that he seemed more a work of art than a man; some sculptor’s final masterpiece.

“You’re tall,” she said stupidly, and could have kicked herself. It was what other people always said to her. “Sorry! I meant, you’re taller. Than me.”

He started to sink back to his knees, and she hastily waved her hands to stop him. “No! I like that you’re tall! Um, not that you care or anything, it’s just-“

“I care,” he interrupted her. His eyes were still very wide, as if he was as shell-shocked as her. “I care very much.”

He brought up one of his hands, almost but not quite brushing her face. Very slowly, never actually making contact, he traced the curve of her cheek. Neridia trembled with the desire to lean into his touch, to close that last distance between them…but she didn’t dare.

Despite his gentle words, the stranger’s expression was pure agony. He had the look of a man abruptly confronted with everything he ever wanted…and could never have.

“Oh, my lady.” Water ran down his face. “Where were you?”

Neridia could barely process the question, still lost in disbelieving wonder. “When?”

“Now. Then. Always.” The man dropped his hand, gesturing out at Loch Ness. “All this time, you were here?”

She nodded. “I’ve always lived here. Why?”

Her simple assent seemed to hit him like a blow to the gut. He closed his eyes tightly, as if he couldn’t bear the sight of her any longer.

His obvious pain made her own heart clench in response. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I…I…” All his previous eloquence had apparently deserted him. “I searched for you, my lady. I swear to you, I searched.”

He searched…for me?

Some long-silent part of Neridia’s soul sang in pure joy, even as she tried to wrap her rational brain around what was happening.

Before she could ask him what he meant, the man took a deep breath. His chiseled features settled into a look of grim, stoic determination. Setting his shoulders as though lifting a heavy burden, he opened his eyes.

“What is your name?” he asked her.

“Neridia,” she said. She braced herself for the inevitable comment. “Neridia Small.”

He shook his head. “Not your air name. Your real name.”

Caught off-balance by this unusual response to her painfully ironic surname, she could only blink at him.

“Come.” The stranger turned, and started wading deeper into the loch. “Swim with me.”

Neridia found she’d actually taken a step after him. The chill kiss of water against her knees brought her crashing back to sanity.

“Wait!” she called after his retreating back. “I can’t-wait! I don’t even know your name!”

He was chest-deep in the water already. He looked back over his shoulder at her, and her heart broke at the despair in his eyes.

“I will tell you,” he said.

And then-