Page 62 of Court of Winter
“Where is she now? Does she really have black hair too?”
“I imagine she’s in her wing, and yes, her hair’s also black.”
For the briefest moment, I pictured Prince Norivun as a toddler standing by a female with hair the color of onyx. “What are her affinities?”
“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 princedidhave 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 whatisof 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 createorem. Only the gods can do that.”
“The gods andyou. That courtyard”—he pointed to the glass doors—“was completely withoutoremwhen I brought you to this room. I’ve had it evaluated numerous times by very powerful scholars, and they all reached the same conclusion. Nooremexisted 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.”
“Youdid. Your affinity created it.”
“Maybe your scholars are wrong. Theoremcould 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.