Chapter 17 Dominic
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
DOMINIC
Iwoke before dawn with the weight of yesterday pressing on my chest. My mother. The exile. The betrayal that still felt raw despite understanding why I had to do it.
I stared at the ceiling, watching shadows shift as early light crept through the curtains.
The memory of my mother’s face when I’d sent her away kept replaying.
The tears she’d tried to hide. The dignity she’d maintained even as her world crumbled.
She’d tried to help. In her twisted, misguided way, she’d genuinely believed she was protecting me.
That didn’t make it hurt less.
I rolled out of bed and made my way to the bathing chamber, letting hot water wash over me while my mind churned through everything. Betrayal mixed with guilt for banishing her. Anger at the manipulation. But underneath it all, a strange sense of relief that at least one mystery was solved.
The water couldn’t wash away the complicated mess of feelings, but it helped clear my head enough to face the day.
I dried off and wrapped myself in a robe, then strode back to my room. As I shut the door, Sasha’s opened and closed. She headed toward the bathing chamber.
Knowing she was here made the pain in my chest loosen. At least I wasn’t facing this alone.
I dressed quickly, choosing comfortable clothes rather than formal court robes. We had investigating to do today, and I wanted to move freely through the castle and grounds.
When I stepped into our shared sitting room, I found Sasha there, dressed in a deep blue gown. She stood by the side table, her fingers hovering over a small potted fern that had been wilting for weeks.
Savory perched on the windowsill, her head tilting as she watched Sasha work.
I stayed quiet, watching as her hands moved above the plants. I sensed she was finally trusting the magic flowing through her.
The fern’s fronds began to uncurl. Not in a huge way, but enough to show life returning.
She wasn’t just solving problems. She was healing things. The thought made my throat tighten with joy.
“You’re up early,” I said, my voice rough.
Sasha glanced over her shoulder, a smile crossing her face. “So are you. How did you sleep?”
“Not particularly well.” I moved closer, watching her trace the curve of a frond with one fingertip. “You?”
“About the same.” She turned to face me fully, her hands dropping to her sides. “Are you all right?”
The question sounded simple, but the concern in her eyes set off a dull throb beneath my sternum. “I will be.”
She nodded, understanding flickering across her face. Neither of us needed to rehash yesterday’s pain. Not when there was still work to be done.
I gestured to the fern. “It’s responding to you.”
“Only a little.” She touched another branch, coaxing it to unfold. “It wants to live. That’s what I’m sensing. The desire for growth is still there, just buried under whatever’s dampening the connection to the court’s magic.”
Savory made a soft sound from her perch.
Sasha’s smile widened. “She says plants mirror the emotions around them. This one is picking up hope.”
“Smart bird.”
“Don’t tell her that. Her ego is already insufferable.”
I laughed and waited until she’d finished before asking if she’d like to go downstairs for breakfast.
The dining room was empty when we arrived. Chairs magically slid back, and we sat.
Staff soon arrived, guiding platters of food to the table. They’d been instructed to throw everything away and start with fresh ingredients. The meal was simpler than usual, just bread, eggs, and fresh fruit, but I didn’t mind. At least we could eat without worrying about involuntary giggling.
As she ate, Sasha laid her notebook open on the table, showing me maps of the castle grounds and botanical references. She’d even sketched rough diagrams of the gardens, marking areas with the heaviest wilting.
I contributed what I knew about court layout, magical theory, and festival traditions while she took notes. Savory positioned herself on the back of an empty chair, observing both the room and us.
“The dampening feels different from your mother’s spell,” Sasha said, tapping her pencil against her notebook. “Like it’s been here longer.”
I considered that, reaching for my tea. “So we’re looking for something other than recent sabotage.”
“Exactly.” She flipped to a fresh page. “Here’s what I’m thinking. If I use my plant magic while you channel fae emotional energy, we could create a sort of magical contrast to map which areas show the strongest dampening effect.”
“A magical signature map,” I said, warming to the idea. “We can test whether our combined magic can temporarily revive plants and see how long the effect lasts.”
“And track the pattern of decay.” Her eyes lit up the way they always did when she was solving a problem. “If we can identify where the dampening is strongest, that might give us clues about where it’s coming from.”
I loved the methodical way her mind worked. “You approach this like a military campaign.”
“Mysteries are just puzzles with higher stakes.” She shrugged, not looking up from her notes. “The methodology is the same.”
I leaned forward to examine her diagrams more closely. “Your handwriting is beautiful. Even your investigation planning looks elegant.”
Color brightened her cheeks. “Focus, Your Majesty.”
“I am focused.” I grinned. “Just not necessarily on the plants.”
She shot me a look that was trying to be stern, but she couldn’t hide her smile.
We spent the next hour mapping out our investigation in detail. Historical research first. I remembered festival archives in the library going back centuries. We’d cross-reference any similar incidents, look for patterns in court staff, study recent magical events, and even weather patterns.
“We should check for records of emotional dampening spells,” Sasha said, making another note.
“Good idea.” I added that to my mental list. “Though I’m not sure our library has much to offer related to that.”
“Then we’ll have to be creative about what we look for.”
For the physical investigation, we planned a full day’s schedule.
Morning in the greenhouse and gardens. Midday interviews with botanical staff, conducted away from the main court.
Afternoon in the festival preparation areas, including the ballroom and ceremonial spaces where our rarer emotion-responsive flowers would be displayed.
We’d spend the evening testing our magical connection theory in different locations.
“We also need to consider motive,” I said, thinking through the political angles. “Who benefits from ensuring the festival fails?”
Sasha tapped her pencil on her lips. “Political rivals? Other courts who might want to undermine your authority?”
“Possibly. But the festival isn’t just about me. It’s sacred to all our people, a celebration of who we are as fae.” I frowned, working through the logic. “Who values control over genuine feeling? Who might see authentic emotion as threatening?”
“Someone afraid of vulnerability,” Sasha said softly.
Our eyes met across the table. The parallel to my mother’s fear wasn’t lost on either of us.
“We’ll need to cross-reference who’s been near the most affected plants with court schedules,” she said, redirecting us back to her notes. “Track movement patterns, access points.”
I watched her organize our findings in a systematic way, creating order from the mess. Warmth that had nothing to do with the tea glided through my chest.
Yesterday could’ve shattered my faith in everyone close to me. My mother’s betrayal could’ve made me retreat behind the charming facade I showed the court, trusting no one with the real me.
Instead, Sasha was showing me what a true partnership looked like. Not manipulation disguised as help, but genuine collaboration between equals.
My mother had tried to control who I was, to mold me into what she thought Sasha would want.
Sasha was helping me become who I actually wanted to be.
The difference felt profound.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, glancing up from her notes.
“That I’m grateful you’re here. That working with you feels right in a way nothing else has.”
Her expression softened. “I feel the same.”
We held each other’s gaze for a long moment, something unspoken passing between us. This wasn’t a declaration, but close. It was an acknowledgment that this partnership was becoming something more.
Savory made a pleased sound from her perch.
“What’s she saying?” I asked.
Sasha’s smile turned wry. “That some gardens need both structure and wildness to truly flourish. She’s being poetic about our investigative methods.”
“Smart bird,” I said again.
“Insufferable bird,” Sasha said, but her voice held affection.
As we continued planning, I noticed something odd. The flower arrangement on our breakfast table, which had been drooping when we sat down, was straightening. The blooms seemed brighter, more vibrant.
“Sasha.” I nodded toward the flowers. “Look.”
She followed my gaze, her eyes widening. Around the room, other plants were responding too. Vines along the windowsill were reaching toward the light and a few flowers poked out among the leaves.
“It’s us,” she breathed. “Our emotional connection is feeding them.”
I stood, moving closer to examine a wilted orchid on the sideboard that was visibly perking up. It wasn’t fully back to what it should be, but it was definitely improving.
“This is a clue,” Sasha said, rising to join me. “If we can figure out what we’re doing right, maybe we can replicate it on a larger scale.”
“Our emotional connection creates islands of healthy plant magic. Which means whatever’s dampening the plant’s ability to touch our emotional magic is targeting true feelings specifically.”
“And our partnership counters it.” She met my eyes. “At least temporarily.”
I brushed a strand of dark hair from her face. “I keep waiting for you to realize this is too much of a mess. That you’d be better off with a quieter alliance.”