She was every small moment that made your breath catch in the back of your throat. The thing that made your heart flutter inside your chest. It took everything in me to ask her about the flower instead of learning more about her.
“Hello?” Amalee pushed. “You still here?”
The woman’s tan dress shifted around her as she made her way down to lie among the variety of blue flowers. “She looks sad.” I contemplated.
Amalee moved to my side and peered out the window. “Who?”
The woman lay engulfed by the foliage surrounding her, and if I hadn’t seen her move, I might’ve missed her. I ignored my sister’s question and continued my observation.
“Last night I ran into a woman in the gardens. She was digging in the dirt,” I said, chuckling.
“How delightful,” Amalee mocked with a raised brow. “Can’t wait to hear where this is headed.”
“She grew a flower right before my eyes, as if it was something she’d done every day since the moment she was born.” I pulled the tie from my hair, letting my strands fall to my shoulders.
“Am I supposed to be impressed by magic that comesnaturally to the Rivale fae? Will you tell me she has two eyes and pointed ears next? Shocking.”
I shook my head. “No, you didn’t see the ground—it was dead. It wasn’t like she expanded an already established vine or tree. She created something out of nothing. She created life from broken land.”
Out of my periphery, my sister’s eyes narrowed as the pieces clicked with one another. “Did you ask her how she did it or if she knows anyone who could help us?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t, but Idohave something in mind.”
17
RYDER
The stale air settled in the room, suffocating my lungs, preventing me from taking a full breath. While my father lay sleeping on the sweat-soaked sheets, I thumbed through a book of notes, reviewing possible solutions for each issue Rivale faced. Death would claim him soon, yet he’d required me to keep him informed of every matter. Despite his sallow skin and sunken body, he still packed a punch when doling out criticism.
“How are the three women?” my mother asked. “Anyone in particular you’re fond of?”
“They’re all fine.” I fidgeted with the corner of the page, not wanting to look up. I was sure she was as disappointed in me as my father was, but she would never admit it.
Life would have been much easier if I’d been born with my father’s magic. Perhaps I wouldn’t have been forced to marry at all in order to take the throne and instead I could’ve remained unmarried until I had my fill of women.
“Tell me about them,” she prompted.
After the meeting, my only goal was to speak with my father, not to entertain my mother with something as frivolous asblathering on about women. With the exception of magic, we had little else in common. She’d never asked or offered advice on anyone that entertained my time before, though I’d also never been so shackled with the requirement to marry.
“Allura is kind and soft-spoken.” I paused and kept my eyes on the page. “She’s best suited to be my bride and will be easy to mold into what Rivale needs in a queen.”
My mother curled her lips together as if she could keep her opinion to herself with pure force. It was something she’d learned to do well as my father’s wife. My father felt women were an accessory more than anything else. Though I didn’t agree entirely, it was important for a woman to know her place in the court and kingdom.
“She comes from a noble family,” I continued, and turned the page. “As an only child, her mother trained her well for the obligations she bears, and her father understands the intricacies of policy, so she knows how things work.”
“I see,” she said, drawing in a breath. “What do you like about Allura?”
I flinched and looked up. “I just told you.”
My mother sat quietly.
“I suppose she’s nice to look at,” I said, contemplating my life with the woman. “She’d look fine attending events at my side—she’d fit in.”
My father shifted in bed, face distraught, despite his slumber. Some said when the land pulled a fae to their death, it was a painful experience. And though I’d never heard my father complain, he couldn’t hide his discomfort when he slept.
Walking to his side, my mother passed a damp cloth across his head and rested the back of her hand against his forehead. She frowned and sat back in the chair.
I never understood how she could be so kind to him after decades of dealing with his horrid temperament; my kindness didn’t extend as far as hers. He was lucky he didn’t have to relyon me for his care because I would’ve just left him to the healers. He would have done the same for me if I had fallen ill.
