“This is Cymmetra’s Veil, Talysse! Do you know the story?” He throws me a playful look, and I’m caught between suspicion and fascination. Is it another insidious Fae trick? “Legend has it that the Elder of nature, Cymmetra, was seducing her husband Atos, wearing only a veil, and running away from him to fuel his desire, a trick that always works, by the way—”
Why is my face burning? Thank the Elders, the prince is engrossed in studying the mushroom, oblivious to my embarrassment. “Atos tore her veil piece by piece, and everywhere the magical fabric landed, these sprouted! This is a mature specimen, Talysse, extremely rare,” he murmurs. My reaction to his description of the Elders’ foreplays is deeply disturbing. Disturbing as my imagination picks it up and—
“So, if I tap it carefully like this,” he gently touches the cap with his knuckles and screeches like an excited schoolboy, “it releases its spores!”
Indeed, a shimmering haze rises from the mushroom, and he deftly collects it with his fingers. “I will just put these spores here with the others…” he rambles, oblivious to my presence. “Elders, I hope I haven’t lost the other seeds when I fell—”
He fusses around, patting his pockets, and meets my stunned gaze. “What?” he asks, arching a dark brow.
“Atos’s hairy armpits.” It’s not the spores that shock me, but his obsession with something so…tiny. Doesn’t fit the image of a murderous Fae. The Unseelie Prince, in my mind, was a cold, despotic, self-centered monster, and this version of him right now is a contradiction. Well, one can be a power-hungry maniac who killed his own brother and sentenced hundreds to death and still has hobbies. I walk around, inspecting the mushrooms and trying to process this information. Maybe use it to my advantage somehow.
“Didn’t take you for the gardening type,” I say, letting the disbelief drip from my words.
He snaps his head toward me. “Should I be offended or flattered?” He pulls a mock-offended face that looks utterly out of place on his usually stoic features. “I love plants,” he declares. “I even have a little garden—” He stops, realizing he’s said too much. It’s not the kind of thing you share with a rival.
“A little garden?” I ask, unable to mask my dismay. “Don’t you have something better to do with your royal time, like signing death sentences or murdering?”
“One must always find time for their passions, and death sentences and murders just don’t happen to be my thing.” He shrugs, pulling a tiny wax paper sachet out of his pocket. “By Cymmetra, those are completely ruined!”
“Wait a minute, sending people to the gallows and murdering is not your thing?” I take a step closer, peeking into the sachet he holds. It’s full of seeds, blossoms, and random plants.
What kind of trickery is this?
“We all have jobs, Talysse, just like yours was robbing naive strangers and getting them beaten up to a pulp. Mine was to keep the peace and the law in the provinces…do you think those are still good?”
“Hey, Ann’s boys are usually gentle! And that was not my main job—”
“Oh?” he asks, tilting his head and presenting an ear, ending with a gently pointed tip. “Please do tell me more. Those will get moldy by the time we get to Nighthaven—”
We. He saidwe—
“I was just trying to make some money on the side for me and Tayna…those seeds will definitely get moldy, Aeidas.”
“Your younger sister, right?” Shadows cloud his brow.
“Yes,” I say softly, not liking this turn of the conversation. Sharing private details with the enemy is the worst idea ever.
“I’ll just empty the sachet to put in the spores then.” Aeidas breaks the silence that stretches between us. “It’s just a gift for an old friend,” he declares, stuffing the wax paper package into his pocket, trying for nonchalance. “Someone who’s into plants, too.”
“I’m sure they’ll appreciate your…enthusiasm.”
An old friend interested in botany? That’s even more intriguing! Is it a lady friend? Some pretty Fae noblewoman with a small, coquettish garden? Surely, someone like him gets a lot of female attention, I note, frowning.
“And what friend might that be?” I palm my face as I realize I said it out loud. The last thing I want is for this royal prick to think I’m interested in his private life.
“Viridis has practically raised me,” Aeidas answers, his voice distant. No mocking, no snappy comments. “He taught me to love and respect all living things,” he adds, crouching. “Oh, look, this is Satyr’s Wart!” He points at another modest, non-glowing mushroom. “You can eat this, it has excellent flavor!” He throws the mushroom in his mouth and closes his eyes, obviously enjoying the taste.
“No, thank you. The name itself has ruined my appetite,” I declare, crossing my arms at my chest, but my stomach rumbles loudly. The participants in the Trials were not allowed to take provisions, so our last meal was at that feast. Hunger is nothing new to me, but I need to remain strong if I want to survive this, so I pick up the mushroom with the not-so-appetizing name and study it.
“I wouldn’t have eaten it myself if I wanted to poison you,” Aeidas says, chewing.
“Why Satyr’s Wart, though?” I ask, cautiously taking a bite. Elders, he was right. The flavor is excellent.
“Sure you want that story while you’re eating?”
I shake my head and pick up a handful of the delicious mushrooms. Aeidas’s fingers close around my wrist, and my pulse quickens when his touch lingers an instant longer than it should.
“You don’t want to get sick, Talysse,” he says, and I am painfully aware of the grip of his warm fingers around my wrist. “Three are more than enough.”
