Prince Aristaios began to reach for one of the fruit. It was the fruit of immortality. Phae recognized it. As his hand came near, she saw a little white serpent raise its head. It was so slender and small, it looked as if it were part of the branch. Small black eyes opened. The forked tongue flicked out once as if to hiss, I will not bite you, mortal. Trust me.
The Prince’s hand froze midair. He stared at the serpent, his eyes widening with suppressed fear. His mouth twitched with panic. His hand began to tremble. Beads of sweat trickled down his cheeks. He withdrew his hand and backed away from the tree, his eyes never leaving the fruit.
“I will trust your judgment,” he said in a hoarse voice. “You pick for me.” His whole body trembled.
The Seneschal looked at him with a slight nod. “So be it.” He motioned for his daughter and she went and plucked a different fruit, one that was small and blue—the size of a cherry. The Seneschal’s daughter brought it to the Prince and extended it to him.
He stared at her, his eyes fixated on the fruit in her hand, then on her face. He seemed to know intrinsically that it wasn’t the one he desired.
“What is your name?” Aristaios asked her.
“I will not tell you my name,” she replied simply. “It would give you power over me.” She offered him the small fruit from her hand.
Prince Aristaios took it, his fingers grazing her palm. He stared at her, lost for a moment, his expression growing pale. Then he blinked quickly and put the fruit to his mouth and bit into the juicy skin. In a moment, he had devoured it.
He stared at the juice stains on his fingers, watching as the blue drops began to dance and then ignite.
The Seneschal bowed his head reverently. “You and your posterity will inherit this gift,” he said, his voice firm. “It is called the Fireblood. You will sire a race that bears this gift, Prince Aristaios. It is a fruit of ambition. But it must be controlled. You must control your anger, or the flames of ambition will consume you. Remember these words and teach them to your posterity. Pyricanthas. Sericanthas. Thas. If you think these words—in your mind—then you will control the power of the fireblood and accomplish any task that you set your mind to. With it, your achievements will impact generations. I warn you, Prince Aristaios. If you fail to control the fireblood, it will control you. I charge you and your posterity to fulfill your oath.” He nodded with finality.
Phae stared at Prince Aristaios—at Shirikant. The horror began to churn inside of her at the realization. She contained the fireblood herself. Was she a descendent of this man?
YES
The force of the Seneschal’s thought-whisper nearly made her black out. She blinked in amazement, feeling the realization turn into jagged pieces inside her stomach. This man . . . this creature’s blood was part of her own existence! Pain and disbelief battled inside.
“What would you seek of me, Prince Isic?” the Seneschal said in a softer tone. Shion was still on his knee. He had been staring at the Seneschal’s daughter, the Dryad-born, his face full of intense emotions. He started.
“I seek to serve you,” he said, his voice half-choked. He fished inside his tunic front and withdrew a bronze Druidecht talisman, shaped into the design that Phae had seen in his book. He pulled it off and cradled it in his hands. “I made this. With my own hands. These designs represent eighteen different facets I have observed about spirit magic and Mirrowen. I’ve memorized eighteen precepts about them and how not to harm or injure the spirit beings. There are also eighteen virtues, I believe, which you honor and respect. They are your characteristics, my lord. The circle in the center represents you. A circle has no beginning and no end. I built this . . . this . . . talisman to help me remember what I have learned about Mirrowen. It helps me focus my thoughts when the world distracts me. What I ask of you, my lord, is that you touch this talisman. Bless it in some way that when I wear it, I will be able to hear the whispers more clearly. If I can hear your will, then I will do it. I seek to be your emissary in the mortal world. To serve you as long as you will have me. When any Druidecht has earned your trust, has demonstrated constancy in seeking to protect and defend the knowledge of Mirrowen, then you would give him a talisman to mark your favor.” He held out the medallion.
“I grant your desire,” the Seneschal said, his voice warm and pleased. He motioned to his daughter and she approached Shion, taking the talisman from his hand. The look on her face was eager and excited. She smiled at him, blinking with tenderness. Phae felt a prick of envy seeing her.
“I also grant you,” he continued, “a chance to choose one of the fruit from the tree.”
Shion shook his head. “Let your daughter choose for me, my lord. I trust she is wiser than I.”
The daughter’s face brightened with a touching smile. She looked at her father, nodding vigorously.
“If you choose it, Daughter,” he said. There was something in his voice—a hint of regret. “So be it.”