Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
Veria was two hundred and seventy-three years old.
Araya had spent the better part of the week gathering the nerve to ask after the older female casually mentioned that she’d known Loren’s father before he became king. Veria had just laughed, answering easily as Araya struggled not to choke on her tea.
“I’ve helped raise two generations of royals.
” Veria said with a laugh. “My mate worked in the palace in Tirnavel. With my skill at domestic magic, I was easily able to find a place of my own there. Corwin’s mother—Queen Kira—became a fast friend of mine.
By the time Corwin and Lysa had their own children, it felt like we were part of the family. ”
The words rolled easily off Veria’s tongue, but Araya’s mind reeled.
Of course, she knew fae were long-lived—but one hardly ever saw old fae in the New Dominion.
How did a single heart carry the weight of so many lives?
Centuries of memories, friendships, loss…
Would all those faces blur together, or would the grief of losing them burn fresh, each and every time?
“So you knew Loren as a child?" Araya asked, unable to help the pang of curiosity. "And Eloria?"
“I did.” Veria smiled into her tea. “Both little troublemakers. Eloria was always the craftier one—she used her illusions to sneak sweets from the kitchen. I’d turn my back for just a moment, and entire trays would vanish.”
The image made Araya smile, though it was hard to picture the elegant and composed regent sneaking desserts like a child. Even if she must have been a child at one point.
“And Loren,” Veria continued, “he and Thorne were inseparable. Brothers of the heart, we call them. They were always getting into things they shouldn’t, climbing trees, sneaking past the borders of the grounds.
I couldn’t begin to count the number of times they came back far later than they should have, covered in dirt with leaves stuck in their hair. ”
Araya frowned, trying to reconcile the image of a wild, carefree boy with the distant, unyielding male she knew. Had he just… grown up? Or had the Arcanum taken that boy and shattered him?
“Thalen and I were never blessed with children,” Veria said softly, pulling Araya’s attention back to the present.
“But I loved those three like they were my own. There was a long time where I thought I would never see Loren again. I am very glad the Goddess brought the two of you together, and that you were able to lead him back to us.”
Araya’s throat tightened. She set her own cup down carefully, avoiding Veria’s gaze. “I’m not sure your Goddess had anything to do with it.”
“It’s not our place to question.” Some of Veria’s warmth faded—her face stern as she set her teacup down on its saucer. “These things happen as they are meant to, even when everything else is going wrong.”
Araya swallowed hard, the bond twinging in her chest. Loren had abandoned her here, even after all his grand words about how important it was that she learn control over her magic.
But Araya didn’t want to talk about it—not even with Veria, who Araya had quickly decided might be the nicest fae she’d met on this side of the Shadowed Veil.
“How long did it take you to learn all this?” Araya asked instead, nodding toward the workstation where a pale pastry dough thudded against the counter, folding and stretching itself as if shaped by invisible hands.
Veria glanced up from the tray of delicate flowers she’d started to work on. “I started manifesting my affinity around nine,” she said. “Just a spark of talent at first—warming tea, keeping the soup from burning. My mother thought I’d grow out of it and pick up something useful instead.”
“But you didn’t?”
“Goddess, no.” Veria chuckled, shaking her head.
“By ten, I had the knives chopping vegetables on their own and was teaching the bread to braid itself. That’s when they knew my specialty would be domestic magic.
It’s like that for most of us. Once we have a little control, our magic leans toward what we care most about.
Some take to music, or a craft—Eloria’s mischief lent itself well to illusion.
But me? I liked taking care of people. Still do. ”
Araya leaned forward, her tea forgotten at her elbow. “So it’s not random?”
“Certainly not.” Veria shook her head, sprinkling the blossoms in front of her with a careful dusting of sugar.
“Magic always follows our will and desires—or our needs. Most of our children who have grown up here have become weatherworkers, a product of our desperation to push the mist back enough to feed us all. Sometimes I wonder what gifts they might have found instead, if they’d grown up in a different world. ”
“What about fae who grew up with their magic bound?” Araya asked carefully. “Do they ever manifest?”
Veria paused in her work, the sugar spoon hovering above the tray. Araya didn’t look up from her tea, staring down at the dregs in her cup like they were the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen.
“Magic can be a tricky thing, sometimes,” Veria said finally. “It doesn’t always bloom the way we expect after spending so long buried. But as surprising as the results can be, most of us here still believe everything happens for a reason.”
“Fate.” Araya snorted, dragging her finger through a dusting of spilled flour on the table. “Fate and I aren’t friends at the moment.”
Veria chuckled softly. “No one is, dear. Not at your age.” She reached for a second tray of blooms, setting it in front of Araya. “Here—why don’t you try sugaring these? These were some of Loren’s favorites, he could eat an entire tray of them at Bloomtide.”
Araya swallowed hard, trying to ignore the twist of pain his name sent through her chest. He’d claimed her against her will. Drugged her and stolen her across the Shadowed Sea. He’d made her hold a knife to her own throat and left her here.
“Is he coming back to Ithralis?” she asked.
“Not that I’m aware of,” Veria said carefully. “I was going to send these with Thorne when he goes tomorrow.”
“Thorne’s leaving too, then.” Araya stared down at sugared blossoms without seeing them. He hadn’t said anything—but she’d been avoiding him since she discovered Veria was more than happy to let her eat in the kitchen. Still, he hadn’t come looking for her either.
“But I’m staying,” Veria said gently. She reached out, her cool hand covering Araya’s where she clenched the spoon in her fist. “We’ll have our own Bloomtide here, dear. And trust me, you’ll eat better than any of them.”
The garden was almost unrecognizable in the pale morning light.
The heaps of broken branches they’d dragged into a pile were gone, and someone had scraped the moss from the flagstone paths, revealing the shape of what it must have once been.
Thorne was already hard at work clearing another garden bed of sodden, rotting leaves, but he straightened as she stormed across the courtyard.
“You’ve been busy,” Araya snapped.
“Nothing like a little hard work to clear the mind.” Thorne stretched, twisting from side to side. “It’s come a long way, hasn’t it? You should be proud.”
“I know what you’re doing.” Araya crossed her arms. “You’re trying to make me manifest and affinity with all these ridiculous tasks.”
“Clever,” Thorne said, his amber eyes dancing. “Did Veria help you figure that one out?”
“She also told me you’re going to Lumaria.” Araya scowled, refusing to let him off the hook. “That you’re going to see him.”
“I am.” The cheer faded from Thorne’s face, replaced by something gentler. “Someone has to check on him too, Araya. Being apart from you—well, it’s probably hurting him worse, since he completed his side of the bond.”
She wanted to deny it. She didn’t miss him. He’d claimed her against her will—drugged her and stolen her across the Shadowed Sea. Made her hold a knife to her own throat. But when she tried to speak the words, they stuck in her throat.
“Why did he leave then?” she whispered.
“Because he’s an idiot and a martyr.” Thorne sighed deeply. “You’re welcome to come to Lumaria with me.”
That was the last thing she’d expected him to say.
“Loren said I couldn’t,” she stammered. “He said I’m dangerous—I could hurt myself or someone else with my magic out of control—”
“I wouldn’t let you go if you were dangerous,” Thorne said with a shrug. “Maybe you could lose control of your magic if you’re in extreme emotional distress. But generally? You’re pretty even. Have you felt like you’re about to burst out of your skin lately?”
She hadn’t. Not since Thorne started working her to the bone every day. But still…
“I can’t,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Thorne assured her. “I’m leaving after lunch, but Veria is staying. You won’t be alone here. I’ll be back after Bloomtide and we can continue our training then.”
Araya nodded stiffly, She wanted to believe him—to believe she wasn’t dangerous, that she could be trusted with herself. But Loren’s voice still echoed louder, telling her she was a threat, that she couldn’t protect herself—
“Araya.” Thorne’s quiet voice snapped her out of her spiral. “That hollow, torn up feeling you’re struggling with—it’s the bond. It doesn’t mean you’re weak or broken. It just means you’re fae and missing your mate.”
“I don’t want to miss him,” Araya snapped.
“I know.” Thorne’s amber gaze held hers, as calm and kind as always.
“It’s magic—but it’s also biology. The bond doesn’t care how angry you are, or how much you want to fight it.
You’re perfectly matched, stronger together than you are apart.
It’s going to keep pulling you closer, because that’s what it was made to do. To keep you both safe.”
Her throat worked, but she didn’t answer.
“If you don’t want to see him,” Thorne continued softly, “you might consider finding some other way to feel close to him. It could help ease the ache.”
Araya scoffed. “I’d have to be desperate.”