Calla’s laughter filled the room, rich and cruelly amused. “Oh, sire has beencourting you, my queen.”
Alora scowled. “It holds no meaning when I know nothing of its significance.”
“Exactly,” Calla purred, utterly entertained. “And Rune is aware of that. He merely hopes it won’t take long before you feed it to him yourself.”
Alora’s fingers curled in her lap. “He will be waiting a long time.”
“Good, do not yield so easily,” Calla said and drank the last of her wine.
“But why pomegranates?”
Calla’s gaze drifted toward the hearth, her expression turning almost wistful. “In the Netherworld, there grows a great tree within the deepest pit of the Seven Hells, forever burning with white flame. It is called the Anar Tree. From its uppermost branches bloom fruits the color of rubies, their nectar so sweet it is said to taste of divinity itself. Their scent can drive mortals mad with longing.”
She glanced at her pile of gifts wryly.
“But death takes most who try to claim Anar fruit. One cross seven levels full of hellish beasts to reach this tree veiled in white fire that shines like the sun. Few males dare the descent, and fewer return. Yet those who do are always chosen—for they have proved they are willing to burn for their mate.” A sigh slipped from Calla’s lips, touched with something almost mournful. “Fortunately for them, there is no such tree in the Mortal Realm. Pomegranates are the closest in likeness, though their taste holds no comparison. It has become... tradition. A symbol, rather than the trial it once was.”
Alora wasn’t sure whether to swoon or shudder. The thought that they were willing to burn alive for a single taste of devotion was both beautiful and horrifying.
Calla set the goblet down, studying her with a knowing smile. “But that is not what you came to discuss, is it?”
Pressure tightened in Alora’s chest. She hesitated, fingers tugging on the rim of her sleeves.
“No,” she admitted softly, watching the tendrils of light on her wrist. “I came to ask… what am I? How did I do that?”
Calla regarded her quietly, all playfulness gone. “That,” she said at last, “was perhaps the most extraordinary thing I have ever witnessed. The power you released…” She leaned forward slightly, her eyes reflecting the candlelight. “Was nothing short ofdivine.”
The air thinned, leaving goosebumps on Alora’s skin. “But where did it come from? My mother was a simple fae. Her magic was gentle and simple, she wove spells through song and made flowers dance. She was a nymph, for Sevens’ sake. I don’t understand any of this.”
“Hm.” Calla straightened, crossing a leg over the other thoughtfully. “Tell me, Alora. Why did your father marry your mother?”
She frowned. “To form an alliance with the Midlands, I suppose. The fae had migrated here from Arthal during my grandsire’s reign. The union was political?—”
“Yes, but whyher?” Calla arched a brow. “Why not the Thornbearer? Why not a noblewoman of greater standing?”
Alora’s confusion deepened, realizing she had not questioned that before. “I-I don’t know. My mother was kind, beautiful… perhaps he had fallen in love with her.”
The Harbinger’s lips curved faintly, though her eyes were solemn. “Kings rarely marry for love.”
That was true.
And then Calla stated something else. “Your mother was no ordinary fae.”
“What are you saying?” Alora whispered.
The Harbinger leaned back, her red eyes glimmering like rubies. “The world is not as divided as mortals like to believe. Bloodlines cross. Powers blend. And sometimes… something impossible is born.”
Alora shook her head. “You’re speaking in riddles.”
Calla smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Then I’ll be forthright. The kind of magic you expelled was not passed down by no simple fae or mortal. It comes from a place far older. The kind that exists in another plane.”
Her words struck like thunder. “Are you telling me…my mother was a Primordial?”
Calla tilted her head, studying her deeply. “No. The Primordials were sealed eons ago.”
Her shoulders slumped in relief.
“Then where did this power come from? Regardless of my mother’s lineage, she wasn’t powerful.”
