Chapter 51 At the Snap of Her Little Fingers
AT THE SNAP OF HER LITTLE FINGERS
THAREN
Emarelia stopped Tharen outside on the stone ledge, just before she left.
She waved a hand to Merath, urging her on. "Go ahead, love. I’ll be down to the boat in a moment." Her attention fell to Tharen. "I need to speak with the Prima."
The way she said his title lanced against his flesh.
They’d stopped by to visit Luella. Tharen wondered if the two lovers enjoyed Luella’s company more than anything.
They sure as fuck weren’t here to see him.
The females had taken a particular liking to Luella, especially Emarelia.
It was strange to see his predecessor show such feelings for another.
When she’d met Luella the very first time, she had revealed that Luella was a mirror image of her true mother—Liana.
Tharen hadn’t realized how close Emarelia had been to the Queen of Luna, but watching her with Luella was like watching a mother with a daughter, almost.
Tharen couldn’t help but notice how Luella would always stare at Emarelia with wonder as the female let vines curl from her fingertips and air rustle through the room like a gentle storm.
His lamb had barely asked about her mother and father during their time here, but that wasn’t because Emarelia didn’t bring it up. She tried. But Luella didn’t let those conversations last long; she always left.
Merath narrowed her eyes, her long dark curls blowing in the breeze. It had kicked up after their visit—after Emarelia had mentioned Luella’s mother, and Luella had swiftly changed the subject.
"You sure you don’t want me to stay?" Merath purred, placing a hand on Emarelia’s shoulder as she curled around her. The Ignis fae was taller than Emarelia, and glimmers of fire sparkled in the air around her in warning.
Emarelia’s lips twitched. "I can handle him. Go."
Merath flicked out her fingers, and the tips of Tharen’s boots lit with fire, threatening to burn him. He growled lowly, and water splashed from his fingertips as he put the small fire out.
"Just testing your reaction time," Merath called over her shoulder as she turned to leave down the stairs to the boats, hips swishing like her long, thick curls.
Alone with Emarelia, Tharen gave her his attention. "What is it?"
She sighed, her short hair fluttering in the breeze.
"I worry for Luella," she said lowly. Through the arched door, they both stared, as if pulled by an invisible force, to where Luella sat with Azgorath, swirling a glass of wine in her hands as she stared at her blanket-covered lap. "She keeps ignoring what is to come—her destiny. I know you won’t share the prophecy with me. I don’t expect you to.
It is not for my ears, but if she keeps shoving this all down—the truth"—Emarelia shook her head—"it will come back to hurt her. "
Tharen knew that already. They all did. Maybe even Luella. He called her a fumbling little lamb, but she wasn’t quite so fumbling anymore. She was… smart. He sucked salty air through his teeth at the thought. A compliment? Who was he fucking becoming?
"What do you want me to do, hm? Tie her to a chair with my vines and force her to stay still while we make her confront her past?"
Emarelia’s lip curled. She was a delicate-looking female.
Looks were highly deceptive. "You need to speak with her seriously about what is to come.
You cannot allow her to dance around this anymore.
You need to train her magic, and she needs to step into her destiny.
If you keep allowing her to push this all away, you will not like the end result. "
"She’s—" Tharen’s gaze kept being tugged to Luella.
"She’s been through a lot. A godsdamned lot," he stressed.
"You see her magic—what it can do. The evidence is all around us.
" His hand cut through the air. "This is all her. You weren’t there that day at the castle. You didn’t see the destruction she brought.
A hurricane, at the snap of her little fingers.
" Tharen snapped his own; the harsh noise echoed between them. "She can do the same godsdamned thing here, and none of us could stop it. So you look me in the eyes and tell me it’s better to make her confront her past, then let her think everything is okay, so she won’t grow volatile and let her feelings drown us all. "
Emarelia’s face softened as Tharen spoke.
"You care for her," she said softly.
Tharen felt that strange twinge in his heart again. "I don’t want her power to be the end of us all. That’s not care—that’s self-preservation."
A glimmer of red made them both look down the steps, where Merath sat in the small rowboat, arms crossed as she watched them. Fire danced in her palm, casting shadows on her deep skin. Waves trickled faintly as they lapped against the stone steps far below.
"Speak to her. Don’t let her hide any longer.
It will benefit no one if her magic shows its face—because it will sooner or later—and she isn’t equipped to handle it," said Emarelia, her sharp eyes searching Tharen’s in a way that made him feel fully exposed.
She added, "You don’t give her enough credit. "
Tharen watched as she walked down to the boat, and it bobbed across the ripples of soft waves, becoming a blot in the distance—all the while, feeling Luella’s air beat against him.