Much more convenient than fire pits. At least it’s a purely Fae invention. And those orbs don’t leave you reeking of smoke.
I inhale deeply, hoping the earthy scent of wet stones coming through the open window will soothe the fire in my chest.
“Tricity. Planning a visit?”
His mouth opens and closes as he weighs his words.
“What?” I wave a hand in a mockery of manners, my mouth still half full. “Out with it.”
“You must attend to your duties! Hanovel is in trouble, unstable. There are tasks only you can handle, and some nobles are taking advantage of your absence,” he blurts out. He keeps nagging me, like I have a choice. Chief Gerald will make sure I never set foot in that palace again. Not that I want to. “You need to grit your teeth and pull yourself together. For the greater good.”
“I told you no!” The words tumble out before I can filter the fury. With them, my self-control hangs itself on the sparkling chandelier above us.
“Don’t you think you’ve roamed enough?” He throws his hands up, accidentally knocking over a wine glass. I can’t take my eyes off the red liquid soaking into the white cloth.
Then he says the one thing that makes me want to follow the wine’s example and bleed out on the linen.
“Please… return to the Capital, to your castle,” he says, trying to reason with me. “The consequences of your actions are far greater than you realise.”
“You think I don’t care about the consequences?” My magic stirs. It rattles against the restraints in my chest, begging to be unleashed. I can feel it thrumming beneath my skin, a living pulse of power that wants nothing more than to surge forward and answer him.
I force it down, letting only the faintest edge of frustration flare in my glare. I can’t afford to lose control—not again.
Uncle Filip falters, his hands trembling as he reaches out in a shaky gesture for peace. “You know I meant no offence… Please, let us simply have dinner together. Share a meal with me, and afterwards, I will do whatever you require of me.”
He never listens. My nostrils flare. “I am not going back!”
“Seleste, it’s not about you. It’s about your family!”
Low fucking blow.
He swallows rapidly as he realises what he said. “I’m so sorry.”
It’s always about my family.
“You know what? I’ll get the coins another way.” Shoving back from the table, I jerk upright, leaving the half-eaten plate, and with it, any hope of a real connection to the only family I have left, not by blood, but the only one among those who survived… that nightmare.
Grabbing my satchel from the chair, I storm towards the door, eating up the distance with long strides.
“Let me explain!” Filip begs.
“I don’t care.” My hand tightens around the handle and I stumble. Really, I don’t care. I’ll go to the tavern room I rent, get filthy drunk, and stay that way until the next moon cycle.
My satchel, heavy with debts but empty of coins, presses against my hip, a humiliating reminder that I can’t get anything right.
“Stop!” I hear a commotion: glass shattering, a chair scraping. “Child, please!”
“You have no right to stop me, old twat!” I turn, still gripping the handle, only to meet Uncle Filip’s eyes full of pain. And just like that, guilt slices through me, knocking the breath out of my lungs.
Fuck. I didn’t mean that. Another failure.
I yank the wooden handle, ready to disappear for good. But, of course he doesn’t let me leave without a fuss. He waves a hand, and the guards shift. Are they trying to stop me?
A wave of fear drowns all rational thoughts and buries itself in my stomach.
He can’t force me to go back. I can’t go back. I just can’t.
The panic slides down my spine like ice. My power races, answering to my emotions. Pressure builds on the inner walls of my mind, itching to be released.
