Chapter 9 #3
Gods’ blood. I couldn’t exactly tell him I was following my brother, not into the Warrens. That would immediately put him on the palace’s most wanted list. For now, I needed to keep things as vague as I could. “I was following someone.”
He rolled his eyes. “Nice try. Who?” he pressed, though less politely.
I took another bite of bread, chewing as I spoke. “A truth for a truth. Your turn now. The wound. You seem to have a theory. Out with it.”
“You hardly answered my question.”
“I answered it just fine. Maybe you just need to get better at asking questions. Now, your turn.”
Before he answered, he reached across the tray and wiped a bead of butter off the corner of my mouth with his thumb.
But instead of pulling away, he traced the calloused pad of his thumb across the plush flesh of my bottom lip, his lips parting in a rumbling breath as his eyes tracked his movement.
He looked up at me, eyes molten, darkened with something raw and carnal, as if whispering mine.
It was like he’d wanted to brand me with the word.
I breathed, slow and shakily. The tingle of his touch pulsed down my spine, a single thread unraveling everything inside me. And then, like the cruelest sorcerer, he broke the spell, slipping his thumb into his mouth and licking the butter clean.
Everything stopped. My breath. Time. Thoughts.
He returned his attention to the food as if nothing had happened. “You had something there,” he said mildly.
I stared, still stunned. I had something there?
For crying out loud, my bottom lip still prickled with the memory of the heat of his thumb.
With one single touch, he’d ignited my entire body into a pyre that reached for the heavens.
I couldn’t even remember what we’d been talking about; all I kept seeing in my head was his tongue licking the butter off his finger.
Cursed bastard. The sight of that pink tongue brushing over his finger so gingerly sent a searing pulse thrumming between my legs—a hot, wet pulse.
Blessed Skadi.
He casually ate the second half of the moonberry, chewing slowly, then his gaze met mine again, but this time the fire I’d seen in them moments before was squelched. “Have you ever wondered why only royal fae are imbued with magic?”
The question made the gears in my brain halt abruptly. I had to pause for a few breaths before I could answer, “Because the gods decreed it that way.”
“Yeah, but why?”
“To create balance. To ensure only those meant to rule have the power to maintain order.”
“Do you really believe that?” he asked as he sipped his cider. “Listen to how ridiculous that sounds, Syl. It’s as if they never wanted us to question why we are the way we are.”
“It’s what we’ve always been taught, Jack. It’s what’s been passed down through the generations. It’s the basis of our faith. You’re a royal. You’re imbued with the powers of the gods. How can you even question that?”
“What if what we’ve been taught is false? What if royals weren’t always the only ones to wield magic?”
“That’s heresy. Common fae—my people—we’ve never… It’s not possible.”
“Why not? What if others also had magic once? What if the truth has been hidden from us?” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “A few months ago, I was down in the archives, helping Leopold sort through some old records and—”
“Sounds fascinating…” I rolled my eyes and shoveled a spoonful of porridge into my mouth, my appetite ferocious. I’d just wanted to tease him, but his strained expression told me he’d not found me amusing at all.
He playfully tugged on a long strand of my hair. “Stop being such a trega, Syl. I’m serious here.”
“Oh, calm down. I was merely joking.”
He suppressed a smile. “You’re such a pain in my ass sometimes, you know that?”
“Because you’re too easy to annoy.”
He speared a morsal of roast pork and drove it into his mouth, chewing forcefully. “As I was saying… He sent me down to the subterranean level to store away some old manuscripts.”
“I didn’t even know we still used that level. I thought it was sealed due to damage after the wars.”
“Some parts are, but Leopold uses the not so damaged areas to store stuff he deems…unimportant to keep on the main levels.”
“So…what did you find?” I urged him, wanting him to get to the exciting part.
He stared at me.
“What? I know you better than you know yourself. And you only get that gleam in your eyes when something thrills you. And nothing thrills you like finding rare knowledge in old manuscripts and texts. Just tell me what you discovered.”
“Can I tell the story?”
“You know I love entertaining your scholarly adventures, but we don’t have all the time in the world to discuss books. Have you forgotten we have a court to face this morning? I’m shocked your mother hasn’t busted through that door yet.”
At the mention of his mother, that gleam snuffed out.
“I found books that referenced the War of Four Kings, and even wars that went further back than that. I wasn’t sure why books that contained historical records of that kind would be tucked away in a crate in the subterranean level, so I brought them up with me, but not before I skimmed through their pages.
In one of the oldest texts—the pages so worn I was worried they would turn to dust in my fingers—I found stories, Syl…
about the shifter-fae. Warriors who could command elements, change form.
They weren’t royalty; they were wild, bound to nature and the stars. ”
The tension in me released. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath, waiting to hear some big revelation.
Here, I’d thought he’d discovered something useful, but all he had were folktales.
He was smarter than this, and it annoyed me a little.
“The shifter-fae are myths, Jack. Warnings for children. Meant to scare them from wandering into the woods.”
“What if they weren’t? What if the gods favored them before the royal bloodlines rose?”
I sighed in agitation. Now I understood why Leopold had stored those manuscripts in the subterranean level—they were nonsense.
As much as I usually loved conversing with Jack and listening to his wild tales about magic and our people’s lore, this was beyond what I had patience for today, especially when we had serious matters to attend to.
“Are you suggesting that I’m somehow descended from the shifter-fae?
And that’s why I can heal? You understand how preposterous that sounds, right? ”
He seemed less convinced of his conviction, but he pressed on. “But your healing…it’s not natural. And it wasn’t my doing.”
I stared at him, heart twisting. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “So, what you’re saying is that I’m a monster now?”
“No,” he said, voice drowned in wonder. “You’re extraordinary.”
He was about to say more when another knock at the door cut him off.