8. Revi
“And the caves?”
Revi’s steward, a diminutive Elyri man with glittering grey eyes and dark hair the exact shade of green as a fir’s needles, scratched the side of his nose. “No new reports, Your Highness. Our men are still scouting them to ensure their safety.”
Revi huffed. He resisted the urge to rub his muzzle against his paw; just because he looked like a wolf didn’t mean he needed to act like one before his steward. “Very well. You may go. Take the Spring Court’s trade proposal to Enlo; he’ll write up a response to them.” Something far more civil than Revi could manage, given that the new trade proposal not only rejected their request for more food imports but also said the Spring King intended to cut back their shipments—and raise the taxes.
If they didn’t desperately need the food, Revi would have shredded the whole thing. It was insulting.
Restless and frustrated after such a fruitless morning, Revi abandoned the library. He needed some quiet, some time to gather his patience about him before he dealt with anything else for his Court today. A visit to his frostroses would help.
He stepped out of a side door into the sun, which glared down across the gardens. A few wispy clouds drifted through the sky, the only remnants of the rainstorm that had visited the night before.
Revi lifted his nose to the air and inhaled. A familiar scent came to him on the breeze, and he growled. What was the woman doing out here? Did she think to take another rose like her father had? He hadn’t seen much of her in the past week aside from dinners—which were rather quiet affairs, overall. They stayed on polite conversation topics, with Kienna occasionally asking him what the Elyri words for things were. But during the days, he only caught glimpses of her, often with Zoya.
He followed the scent, his suspicion growing as the trail led him closer to his personal garden. He’d let her keep that one rose as a sign of the bargain struck, but if she dared take another of his roses…
He stopped in his tracks when she came into sight around a bend in the path.
Kienna knelt a short distance away by one of the flower beds, pouring a pitcher of water on a wilting flower bush. Her dress trailed in the dust around her, not that she seemed to notice.
She clutched the pitcher in her hands, a drop of water rolling down its side. The ground around the bush before her looked wet.
He stared, unsure what to do with the sight of her.
After a moment, she rose to her feet and stepped back onto the path. A frown marred her face as she contemplated the bush. When she turned back to the castle, she started at the sight of Revi; pink flooded her cheeks. “Were you watching me?”
He moved forward, tilting his head toward the bush. “We have gardeners to do that.”
Her fingers tightened on the pitcher, and her gaze flicked to the bush. “I just thought... they’re probably very busy with the entire grounds. And perhaps wouldn’t mind a little help.” Her brow furrowed as she studied the plant. “I don’t understand why the plants struggle here. It rained last night—stormed, even. I heard it pounding against my window.” She looked back at him, her eyes searching his. “Why does your Court look like it’s in the middle of a drought?”
He shifted, kneading his claws into the ground as he grappled for an answer. He didn’t know what to do with this strange woman who seemed to care so much. Yes, she was living here for a year, but this was not her Court. She didn’t know that its future rested on her.
She continued, unaware of the direction of his thoughts, “When my father came home with that rose, I expected this place to be vibrant. Instead, it’s…” She waved a hand out toward the struggling flora.
“Why do you care?” He prowled forward a step as the questions burned out of him. “What is it to you the state my Court is in? Shouldn’t you be pleased that your captor is in such dire straits?”
“No.” She shook her head, her hands twisting around the pitcher’s handle. “Why would I be? I wouldn’t wish this plight on anyone. Even if I don’t entirely know what the plight is.”
The fervency in her tone was startling. How could she care so much for a place she’d only been for a week?
Her gaze trailed back to the browning bush, and her next words were soft. Perhaps not meant for his ears, but of course he heard them anyway. “Is there nothing in your Court still thriving?”
He frowned, taken aback by the sudden desire to comfort her, to prove all was not entirely lost yet. He could—he would—still fix this somehow. Protect his people. He’d even do it without her help. He didn’t need her. Even if he did find her far more intriguing—even… alluring, with her strange propensity to care despite having no reason to—than he’d ever expected to find a human.
“Follow me.” He stalked past her, his shoulder brushing her hip. The back of her hand grazed against his side as she fell in beside him, her slippers scuffing softly over the dirt. He was intensely aware of her touch on his fur. She didn’t remove her hand, didn’t shift away from him.
They walked in silence for a few moments before Revi cleared his throat, the noise more of a growl than any sound a person would make. At that, she flinched.
He pretended he hadn’t noticed. “Did you enjoy gardening before? In your homeland.”
She recovered quickly. “Occasionally. It wasn’t my favorite pastime, but I would do it with my mother.” She glanced sideways at him. “I’d ask if you do, but I can’t really imagine it.”
His chest prickled. “Why? Because I’m a beast? I can dig plenty well.” He gouged his claws into the earth for emphasis.
She tensed beside him, and a thread of annoyance bled into her voice. “No. I was going to say because you’re a prince. As you pointed out yourself, you have people to tend the grounds for you.”
“…Oh.” He started walking again.
“You know, it doesn’t really matter what you look like.” Her voice was timid, and her fear contradicted her, but as he gave her another sideways glance, she warmed to her topic. Even the fear bled away from her scent as she continued, “Just because you look like a wolf”—she gestured to him—“or a giant cat doesn’t mean you aren’t simply a normal person too. You don’t have to act like you’re as beastly as you look.”
He studied her for a moment, utterly bemused by her words. It was impossible that she believed that. “I’m exactly as beastly as I look, Lady Kienna. You would be wise not to forget it.”
“Are you?” The question was quiet. He pretended not to hear it.
“Where are you taking me, anyway?” she asked after a short pause, raising her voice to a normal volume.
He side-eyed her. “You’re terrible at keeping to the no questions rule.”
Her eyes widened, and then she huffed, a smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. “You started asking questions first. Perhaps you’re a bad example.”
He blinked. Was she... teasing him? He shook his head and pushed away the confusion of feelings the idea raised in him. “Regardless, here we are.”
They turned the last corner in the path, coming around the towering bushes that guarded this side of his garden from view of the castle.
She gasped at the sight before them. She took a few faltering steps forward, her hand raised toward the frostroses, before she froze and shot a glance at Revi.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you don’t like...”
He pushed down on the possessive feeling rising up in him and shrugged one shoulder. He had brought her here. It made no sense to threaten her off them now.
“Just don’t pick any,” he said in a low growl.
She nodded her head. “They’re even more beautiful in their natural environment.”
Revi gave another low growl of agreement.
The bush towered over Kienna’s head, blooms bursting from every side of it. In the sea of failing life around them, this was the one explosion of vitality. She slowly circled it, brushing her fingers across every petal they passed.
He felt oddly pleased at her wonder, her delight, as she admired the frostroses from every angle. It was like seeing them anew himself. Perhaps it was just her running her fingers across the petals; he could almost imagine he felt a phantom touch along his shoulders. Maybe he did. These were tied to him, after all. He shivered. It was far too easy for his mind to take the idea of her fingers and expand on it, on how soft her touch would be against his skin.
If he had regular skin. The thought soured it, and he shook the idea away.
When Kienna returned to his side of the bush, her brow was creased in another frown. “These are beautiful. But… how can they thrive when the rest of your Court is dying?”
Revi shifted. “These will always survive while I’m alive. They’re a manifestation of my magic. In a way, they’re an extension of me, and I of them. My magic flows from it, and into it, keeping it strong.”
Her eyes widened, and her hand froze on a rose. She looked back and forth between him and the bush. Her hand drew back slowly. “Do all fae have a special rosebush?”
“No.” He padded closer and nudged a flower with his nose. The leaves nearby tickled his whiskers. “Only Elyri from the royal family—those directly in line for the throne—have their magic manifest in a physical form. And it’s not always roses. My father has a pine, my mother moss.”
Kienna looked around, as if she expected to see those nearby.
“They’re closer to the front of the castle. But they don’t stand out as much as the frostroses.” His hide prickled at the painful reminder. “Come. I have duties to attend to.”
She nodded, grazing her fingers across a large rose one last time before they started back toward the castle.
“Thank you,” she said after a few minutes, “for showing me these. Perhaps if they can survive this strange drought thanks to you, the rest of your Court will too.”
His steps faltered as he looked up at her. She gave him a small smile, a dimple forming on one cheek, before hurrying ahead.
He watched her go, his thoughts tilting in her wake. She was just a human.
And yet he found himself encouraged by her words. By her belief in him, however superficial. He didn’t need her to fix his curse—but he wanted to get to know her better, to understand how she could give her belief and kindness so freely.
Yet she still flinched when he growled. Wisps of fear still swirled with her scent when she was reminded of his beastliness. And he couldn’t blame her. Who wouldn’t flinch? Who would want to converse with an animal? Bitterness welled in him.
If he wanted to get to know her, he’d have to do so beyond his cursed forms. And there was only one way to do that.