Chapter 31
Maren poured the pot of ash onto the ground, marring the white marble floor of the Magmara room, then she dumped another pot of dirt that we’d taken from the garden and tossed it over the top. I had to fight a laugh as she pounced on top of the pile, mixing it together with her hands.
“Doesn’t the dirt need to go in the pot?
” I asked as Maren rose from the ground, crossed the room to the barren fireplace, and grabbed the metal poker, dropping clumps of soil with every step.
She started poking at the dirt, swirling and mixing everything together—even though she’d just done that with her hands.
Her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, the corner of her tongue sticking out of her lips.
A chuckle bubbled up my throat, but I bit it back lest she think I was laughing at her and quit dirt mixing.
I couldn’t help but think she was…cute. No, not cute. Beautiful. Even covered in smears of soil and ash. But I couldn’t admit that aloud. Then I’d have to confess to feeling something for a human.
Centuries of the curse had passed, and I’d been plagued with a deep numbness, unable to feel.
But the moment I chose to save Maren’s life, and then brought her here, something deep, deep inside of me started to unfurl, like the petals of a blooming flower.
It was a small ember at first, but the closer I got to Maren, the more it flared, burned, grew.
I was a fool. I couldn’t have feelings for a human. Especially this human.
One way or the other, she would die. There was no future for us. There was no happily ever after, as the humans liked to call it.
No, Eroth was only death and dying ever after.
“It needs to all be thoroughly mixed. The pot was too small to do that,” Maren explained, her voice cracking through my thoughts and bringing my focus back to the dirty room, bits of ash floating in the air and tickling my nose.
A streak of dirt was smeared across Maren’s cheek and nose, and I bit the inside of my lip. As much as I enjoyed the look of concentration on her face as she slowly started shoveling everything back into the bucket, I couldn’t help but take pity on her.
It took longer than it should have to call on my magic, but it finally heeded me and, with a swirl of my hand and a light flick of my fingers, the ash and dirt mix swirled into the air before neatly depositing itself back inside the bucket.
Maren stared, blinking repeatedly from where the pile used to be to the now-filled bucket. Then her brow furrowed as she glared at me.
“You mean you could have done that the whole time?” she demanded, smearing more ash on her face as she swiped a hand across her forehead.
“Simple Magic,” I said in explanation, unable to keep the corners of my lips from curling up.
Maren’s darkening glare had me barking out a laugh.
“Sorry, darling. It was fun to watch you tackle a pile of dirt, but I couldn’t take the ash floating in the air any longer.”
Both of us froze as the term of endearment slipped through my lips. I hadn’t meant to call her such a thing, but it felt so natural coming out. What is happening to me? The old Rhydian never would have used such a term, even before the curse.
Maren kept looking at me and then the floor, a distinct blush coloring her face. I couldn’t tell if she liked that I had called her that, or if I’d made her uncomfortable. There were too many emotions roaring through her for me to get a grasp on what she was truly feeling.
Now that I’d said it, I had the sudden urge to do it again. What was happening to me? I was Rhydian Malathar, Prince of Eroth. I didn’t say things like that. I didn’t call women darling.
Finally, with a shake of her head, she shoved whatever she felt down deep and pushed to her feet, lifting the bucket with a quiet grunt. She carried it over to the balcony where the moonlight was the strongest.
“Do you have the seed?” she asked, turning to me with hands on her hips.
Nodding, I crossed the room to the little credenza situated against the wall, pulled the key from my pocket, and unlocked the top drawer.
Inside was the relic Maren had retrieved from Mount Kharos.
It was warm to the touch as I held it between my fingers, though it wasn’t glowing like Maren had said it had in the cave.
I waited, wondering if it would do so now, but nothing happened as it sat in the center of my palm.
My shoes thudded on the floor as I walked back to Maren, giving the relic a firm twist. It split into two pieces, and I dumped the contents of it into her waiting hand.
A tiny golden seed landed in her palm.
My heart stuttered a beat at the sight of it.
If this didn’t work, there were no other options.
The hope that Eroth wasn’t completely dead, that I could be freed from this curse, was housed in this tiny kernel.
Oblivious to my inner turmoil, Maren wasted no time and lowered to her knees, gently pressing the seed into the soil. Down, down, down, until I could no longer see it. She brushed the dirt from her fingers, then grabbed the pitcher of water and poured a healthy dose on top.
When she was finished, Maren just stared at the bucket with her eyes narrowed, as if the seed would instantly sprout. Minutes passed, and I didn’t know what to do. Did I leave her here to tend to the seed? Or did I wait? My thumbs twiddled together uncertainly.
This infernal human had me second-guessing myself at every turn and I hated it.
But also, kind of…didn’t hate it.
I forced my anxious breath to slip silently through my lips, unwilling to give away how scared I was that this wouldn’t work.
When I couldn’t take the crushing weight of the silence any longer, I asked, “Now what?” feeling like she’d just buried my hope like one buries the dead.
Those eyes pierced into mine, giving a much-needed jolt of life to my heart.
“Now we wait.”
***
Day one of waiting for the seed to sprout.
I scowled at the dirt from where I sat on the floor, the Magmara looming beneath its glass prison behind me. Candles sat flickering around the room, offering a touch more light than the moons shining through the balcony doors.
“It’s only been a few hours,” Maren said, amusement in her voice as she watched me frown at the bucket. She sat next to me, leaning back on her hands.
“It feels like days.”
“Princes aren’t much for patience, are they?” she chuckled.
“I’ve never had much need for it.”
“No time like the present to learn.”
I glanced at her. “Where did yours come from?”
Maren shrugged. “Between putting up with my father’s…moods, and growing up on a farm, patience is the name of the game. You can’t force people to change or things to grow. You can help them, feed them, and nurture them, but in the end, there’s nothing to do but wait.”
I considered her words, staring at the moist dirt that hadn’t changed since she’d planted the seed. Waiting was infuriating, a waste of time. How did she do it?
“And when things didn’t grow?” I asked, feeling a strange spark flit through my stomach as I met those gray eyes.
“Then you try again.”
Day two of waiting for the seed to sprout.
Was it a sign of immaturity that I wanted to bang my head against the wall over and over?
I didn’t know if I was simply bored from nothing happening, or if it was all this anxious energy about my life dwindling with each second that passed that had my feet moving toward the wall, forcing my face into the rough wood.
My forehead was sore by the time I felt a hand on my arm.
“Rhydian?” Maren’s soft voice asked. I paused but didn’t look at her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing has happened,” I bit out. I’d been in the room with the Magmara for countless hours now, unable to get myself to leave. I wanted to be here the moment that sprout popped through the soil. If it ever did.
Maren snorted. “Have you thought about doing something else? Distracting yourself? You’re going to drive yourself crazy just sitting here waiting.” She walked over to the pot and poured water over the soil again.
“What do you suggest I do?”
“Do some cleaning? Play a game with Nico?”
At my snort, Maren smiled. “How about something simple, like read a book? That’ll pass the time.”
With the mention of reading, I had an overwhelming desire to take her to the library. It consumed my thoughts and before I could think my actions through, I grabbed her hand and started tugging her along.
Surprisingly, she didn’t fight me.
“Where are we going?” she said breathlessly, trying to keep up with my long strides. Her hand was warm and soft in mine. I was surprised to find I liked it.
“I want to show you something.”
That was all the explanation I had time to give before the giant double doors loomed in front of us. I wasted no time pushing them open and pulling her inside.
Though it was still an effort, I managed to summon my magic for a brief second, and her mouth flopped open as the lanterns on the wall illuminated, revealing wall after wall of floor-to-ceiling shelves filled to the brim with books.
The air was stuffy, and smelled like old paper, but I found it strangely comforting.
“This is my library,” I explained.
Maren gaped at the full shelves surrounding us.
“There are so many,” she whispered.
“There are books here as old as Shadow Ire itself. Generations of Malathars have added to the collection.”
Maren spun in a slow circle, taking it all in.
“Do you like it?” I asked, waiting on her answer with bated breath.
It took a moment before she responded, her countenance falling. “I don’t really read books anymore,” she said softly.
Not quite the reaction I was expecting. “Why?”