Chapter 11 Sasha
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SASHA
Ismoothed the deep blue silk of my gown for the tenth time, then caught myself and forced my hands still. The fabric whispered against my skin with each movement and looked elegant but not overly formal. I’d chosen it specifically to appear diplomatic, whatever that might be.
The lie sat heavy in my chest.
Savory perched on the back of the chair across from me, her black eyes far too knowing.
The gardener who claims she’s only watering for duty’s sake still chooses the finest blooms, she said.
“I’m representing the witch kingdom now.” I adjusted the neckline. “It would be disrespectful to appear slovenly.”
And the extra time with your hair? Was that diplomatic necessity?
I touched my locket. “Can’t I simply want to look presentable for dinner?”
You’ve never fussed this much over appearance before. Even at formal witch council meetings, you did not dress with anticipation.
“I didn’t fuss.”
You changed gowns three times.
“Twice,” I snapped, then realized that didn’t help my case. “And I was simply ensuring I projected the right level of formality.”
Savory made a sound suspiciously like a chuckle. The heart plants seeds the mind hasn’t given permission to grow.
I wanted to argue, but the truth stuck in my throat. I had taken extra care with my appearance. The deep blue brought out the color of my eyes, and I’d left my hair down rather than braid it, letting the dark waves fall past my shoulders. The gown’s cut flattered without being too obvious.
And I’d done it all while telling myself it meant nothing.
After taking a deep breath, I left my bedroom and walked into the sitting area, Savory swooping out to join me.
The fire crackled in the hearth, giving the room a rosy glow. Even the wilted plants scattered throughout our suite looked slightly less droopy, as if they’d sensed the shift in the room’s emotional energy.
Or perhaps that was my imagination.
I moved to the window, looking out over the gardens below. Twilight had settled in, and the magical lights had begun their nightly awakening. But all I could focus on was the nervous flutter in my belly.
This was ridiculous. I was a strategist, someone who thrived on planning and analysis. Dinner with my husband shouldn’t reduce me to this anxious mess of contradictions.
Yet here I was, caught between wanting to keep things professional and genuinely curious about who Dominic was beneath the crown and charm.
People depended on me to stay focused. My sisters had needed me strong after our parents died, and now an entire court needed me to help solve new problems. Romance was a luxury I couldn’t afford, a potential weakness that could make me miss crucial details.
But then I remembered the way Dominic had knelt in the greenhouse this morning, gently encouraging the dying flowers. I’d found genuine distress in his eyes when his giggling interrupted our wedding vows. He’d sent a meal to our suite because he’d suspected I’d lose track of time.
The decorative vines along the windowsill had straightened slightly, their leaves looking less curled than they had an hour ago. The small potted fern on the side table looked greener, more vibrant.
Were they responding to my emotions, feeding off whatever hopeful energy I was apparently broadcasting?
Your magic knows what your mind refuses to acknowledge, Savory said.
Before I could reply, Dominic stepped into the sitting room.
It was all I could do to breathe.
He wore a burgundy tunic with subtle gold embroidery, the color bringing out the green in his eyes. His dark blond hair had been styled in a way that looked elegant yet tousled, and the smile he gave me when our gazes met sent heat through my chest.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
“Thank you.” I fought the urge to smooth my gown. “You look very nice as well.”
Nice? Savory sounded incredulous. The king looks like he stepped from a painting, and you say ‘nice’?
I ignored her.
Dominic crossed the room to join me near the fireplace. “I hope you’re hungry. I may have gotten a bit carried away with the menu planning.”
“You planned the menu?”
“And personally selected every ingredient.”
Someone knocked on the door, and Dominic crossed the room to open it. Alaina and two staff members entered, carrying trays laden with covered dishes. The scent of roasted meat and herbs filled the air, making my mouth water.
“Your Majesties,” Alaina said with a warm smile. She caught Dominic’s eye and gave him a wink before directing the staff to arrange everything on the table.
I watched them work, noting the care they’d taken with presentation. This wasn’t standard court fare. Everything from the choice of serving dishes to the arrangement of garnishes spoke of personal attention.
“This looks wonderful, Alaina,” I said as they finished. “Thank you for preparing it.”
“It was my pleasure, Your Majesty.” She glanced between Dominic and me, her expression knowing. “Enjoy your evening.”
After they left, Dominic moved to the table and pulled out a chair for me.
I settled into the seat, aware of his proximity as he pushed the chair in.
He chose the chair that lets you face the best garden view, Savory said. Small considerations reveal deeper care.
Dominic took his own seat and began uncovering the dishes. “I should probably mention that I personally tested all this food with my magic. There should be no contamination, no interference in our meal tonight.”
“You can detect the contamination?”
“Subtly, yes. It’s similar to what you described feeling in the tea leaves, that sense of wrongness.
I tested everything in the kitchen before selecting ingredients.
” He served roasted quail onto my plate.
“The vegetables are from sections of the garden I tend myself, and the herbs are from my private stores. Nothing that’s been sitting in the general kitchen supplies. ”
“That’s brilliant,” I said. “So we can confirm the contamination is widespread in the court’s regular food supply.”
“It appears so.” He added spring vegetables to my plate, then his own. “Which suggests either a contaminated common source or deliberate tampering on a large scale.”
I considered the implications. “If it’s deliberate tampering, the perpetrator would need extensive access to the kitchens and storage areas. Someone trusted, or multiple people working together.”
“My thoughts exactly.” He poured wine into our glasses. “We could set up surveillance. Magical monitoring of the preparation areas, perhaps discreet observation of the staff.”
“Without making anyone feel accused,” I said. “We don’t want to create paranoia or damage morale if this turns out to be accidental contamination.”
Dominic nodded, then caught himself and smiled. “Although, I was actually hoping we could avoid discussing court problems for at least part of dinner. Is that terribly irresponsible of me?”
I opened my mouth to redirect us back to strategy talk. It was safer territory, more comfortable than whatever personal conversation he was suggesting. But his expression made me pause.
He looked hopeful but uncertain, like he was taking a risk by asking.
“That’s not irresponsible,” I heard myself say. “What would you like to talk about instead?”
His smile widened. “Tell me about your sisters. What was it like growing up with them?”
The question caught me off guard. I’d expected more political discussion or perhaps questions about witch magic versus fae abilities. Personal history felt more vulnerable somehow.
But also…nice.
“Cyrene and Adele are wonderful,” I said, taking a sip of wine to buy myself a moment. “My cousin, Victoria, too. Her parents travel a lot, so she spent a lot of time at Grandmother’s with us. Though the three of them drive me absolutely mad sometimes.”
“Younger siblings and cousins tend to do that.” He tilted his head. “What are they like?”
I relaxed as I talked about my sisters and cousin.
How Cyrene’s joy magic manifested even as a child, making her naturally cheerful and optimistic.
How Adele’s weather abilities had caused impromptu snowstorms whenever she had nightmares after our parents died.
And how Victoria’s bright mind kept my own hopping.
We ate as we talked.
“I essentially raised my sisters,” I said, immediately worrying it sounded like boasting. “I mean, we had our grandmother, of course. But someone needed to manage the day-to-day details. Make sure they ate properly, kept up with their studies, learned proper spell control.”
“That’s an enormous responsibility for someone so young.” Dominic’s expression held no judgment, only understanding. “How old were you when your parents died?”
“Fourteen. Cyrene is the youngest, and Adele’s the middle child. Victoria is Adele’s age.” The familiar ache settled in my chest. “They needed me to be strong, to have answers. I couldn’t afford to fall apart.”
“So you became the strategist. The planner who anticipated every problem before it could hurt them.”
The accuracy of his observation startled me. “Yes, exactly.”
“They’re grown. Two are married.” He leaned forward, his green eyes intent on my face. “What do you need now, Sasha?”
The question hung between us, far more intimate than court politics or magical contamination. I touched my locket, buying time while I searched for an answer that wouldn’t reveal too much.
“I don’t know,” I finally said. “I’ve spent so long focusing on what they need that I’m not sure I know how to think about my own wants.”
“Well, start small.” His tone lightened. “What do you miss most about home?”
I considered the question. “The gardens at my grandmother’s estate. They’re different from fae gardens. More structured, I suppose, but also deeply peaceful. I used to spend hours there when I needed to think.”
“What made them peaceful for you?”