“That, Ilara, is for her to share. But while your coloring is identical, that genetic anomaly doesn’t extend to your affinities, merely the rareness and strength of them.”
I quickly poured myself another glass and took a heavy drink. The room spun slightly when I set it back down, but at least I didn’t cough again.
“You’re nervous.”
I gave him a side-eye. “You seem to be in the habit of reading my emotions.”
“It’s something I do with everyone.”
I studied him, frowning. He had a beautiful face—firm lips yet full. A strong nose. Deep-set eyes that were so piercing and such a million shades of blue that I was reminded of glittering sapphires. And his chin with that cleft in the middle—it gave him such a rugged appeal.
His face was utter perfection, yet it was entirely blank.
My forehead scrunched together when I remembered our conversation about empathy. That had been weeks ago, on my flight into the capital. Somehow, someway, the prince did have empathy within him. His comment about my anger confirmed that since he was so in tune with others’ emotions.
Yet, he still killed so easily. Even knowing how it ripped families apart.
So what exactly did that make him? A true monster? Since he understood the pain he was causing others? Or did he live with regret daily that he hid behind a mask of slate?
I hastily took another drink. “I can’t say that I can read your expressions. Your face is about as expressive as a blank wall.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“To you maybe not, but to me it is. It’s preferable if you don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“Why?”
“It’s not of your concern. But what is of your concern is training your affinity.”
I frowned, then took another drink. Blessed Mother, there wasn’t enough alcohol in the realm for this discussion. How could I be having a conversation with the fairy who’d murdered my family, while said fairy was also telling me I needed to save the continent, all while I was contemplating—in a quickly-growing-drunken state—if said male felt regret for all that he’d destroyed?
My fingers shook when I relinquished my glass. “I’m going to disappoint you. You might as well know that now. I’m not strong enough to do what you’re asking, and I’m still entirely doubtful that I have an affinity that can create orem. Only the gods can do that.”
“The gods and you. That courtyard”—he pointed to the glass doors—“was completely without orem when I brought you to this room. I’ve had it evaluated numerous times by very powerful scholars, and they all reached the same conclusion. No orem existed anymore in that soil. Not for millees beneath the surface. Not even a trace. That land was dead, yet within a matter of weeks, you’ve brought it back to life.”
“But I didn’t do anything.”
“You did. Your affinity created it.”
“Maybe your scholars are wrong. The orem could have been there and just needed coaxing to the surface.”
“I’m not wrong, and my scholars weren’t wrong.”
My hand shook when I picked up the glass again and drained the last of it. A dizzying feeling swept through me. It didn’t help that it’d been hours since I’d eaten. I gripped the ice bar harder, the counter cool yet not cold. The magic swimming through it didn’t allow the surface to actually freeze a fairy.
I thought about the garden here, then my garden back home and the bounty that it’d produced this summer. I’d pulled an endless vine of acorlis just last month. I thought it’d been luck, but what if it hadn’t been?
Blessed Mother. I was actually considering what he was saying.
“I suppose it’s . . . possible,” I finally said.
A small smile ghosted the prince’s lips. “You’re coming to accept what you are.”
I glowered. “I didn’t say that. I simply said you could be right that the garden didn’t have orem. I didn’t sense any either when I first arrived.”
His smile broadened.
Not liking how smug he was looking, I bit out, “Why didn’t you just tell me that you thought I could create orem when we first met? Why did you keep it a secret and let me worry about what was being done to me?”
His smile vanished. “I’m sorry, for what I made you feel, but I couldn’t tell you. It was too risky.”
I reeled for a moment. He’d just apologized to me. Shaking that off, I asked, “What do you mean?”
“You’re too powerful.”
“Now I know you’re full of it.”
His lips quirked. “I’m not. When a powerful fairy’s affinity first begins to manifest, it’s quite malleable. If a fairy attempts to force it, alter it, or in any way manipulate it too early, it can shatter the potential of one’s affinity.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve never heard of that.”
“It’s because it’s not common. Most affinities manifest, and their power level is set from the moment of its first appearance. It can still take time for the fairy to learn how to wield their affinity, but their power won’t diminish. But with very powerful fae, that’s not the case. One’s affinity can only reach its true potential if it isn’t manipulated too early, too quickly.”
I scoffed. “And you think I’m one of those powerful fae.”
“I do, which is why I haven’t intervened or told you what I suspected. When we first met, I could tell that you had no idea what was happening to you, nor did anyone else. But when I saw your garden, and then I saw your black hair, I knew that it was possible you could create orem given how prolific your garden was, but I needed your magic to grow on its own without interference. That’s why I brought you here, locked you away, and didn’t tell you my plans. You needed to fully manifest independently in order to reach your full potential.” His voice gentled, and a shiver ran down my spine when it turned slightly husky. “Our land needs you, Ilara. The magnitude of that need was too important to jeopardize, but now your affinity has truly been born, and you’re past the initial stage when it could have been stilted. It will only grow from here, and with proper training, it could be immense.”
I nibbled on my lip and avoided the urge to fidget. “If I can actually create orem, and if I can somehow replenish the crops on our continent, what’s in it for me?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Saving our race isn’t enough?”
“Not to sound cold, but no. I want something in return if I’m to devote my life to this.”
He stroked his chin. “Are you trying to bargain with me?”
“I am.”
His lips pressed together, and for a moment, I thought he was going to laugh. “What makes you think you have any authority?”
I crossed my arms and scowled. “I don’t, but I also know that you’re quite desperate to have me help you, and I think getting something in return for saving the continent isn’t asking too much.”
He crossed his arms too. “Very well. What is it that you want?”
“To return home. To be allowed to live in peace.”
His expression flattened. “You wish to be free of me and the court.”
“Yes.”
“Would you be more willing to cooperate if I agreed to this?”
“I would.”