She paused and turned to look at Prince Elias. She smiled. “Although, I’m sure even those who stayed safe in their homes and did not fight courageously in the warare glad for peace too.”
Now that was definitely a jab.Furthermore, Gerard did not miss the fact that she referred to three children, not four. So she did not consider Prince Elias one of her children.
Prince Elias tucked his white hair behind a delicate ear, seemingly unbothered by her comments. “Yes. As someone who did not fight, I can definitely say that I am glad for peace.” There was not a hint of shame in his tone that he’d not taken part.
Prince Elias paused, tilting his head slightly. The sunlight danced amongst his hair. “Of course, I wished I could take part in the war.” He lifted a shoulder. “But as the empress said, I lack the magical ability.”
Then his elegant white brows drew down. “Although, honestly, I’d hate to wear those dull black robes that lightning sorcerers wear. They’re so uninspired. I bet they are so uncomfortable too.” He shuddered. “I couldn’t imagine anything worse than wearing those scratchy robes.”
Gerard’s mouth fell open. Beside him, Senta tensed.
Is he fucking kidding?
Gerard stared at the prince, waiting for him to recant, to realise how ridiculous—no, offensive—he sounded! Did he really think theworstthing that could happen during war was wearing scratchy robes?
What about death? What about being injured, disabled, or disfigured? What about losing an eye, almost dying, and being permanently marked by your enemy?
Gerard exhaled as he tried to calm the blood bubbling up in his veins.
What a thing to say when so many hadn’t survived the war? Because despite what Gerard had suffered, he considered himself lucky. He still stood breathing. Many didn’t.
It was clear that although Prince Elias Storm might bepretty, he was clearly a fucking fool with nothing between his ears and no understanding of war. It seemed the words “lacked intelligence” also did not do him justice.
And furthermore, whilst it was true that normal sorcerers wore black robes, the sorcerer who’d attacked Gerard had worn those deep-blue robes. They’d not looked boring, wearing their white mask with zigzagged lightning strikes as they stared up at Gerard before they struck him.
Gerard’s muscles tensed, as they so often did when he thought of the archmage. Gerard took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax.
“Some people just aren’t made for war.” And Prince Elias was still fucking speaking! The prince shrugged. “We’re better off at home and not getting involved in all that”—his petite nose wrinkled—“nastiness.”
Senta and Gerard shared a look. Empress Emmeline smiled a smug, satisfied smile as she stared at Prince Elias, who was currently making a fool of himself just by speaking. She clearly disliked her stepson, and honestly, Gerard didn’t blame her.
Prince Elias laughed, light and without a care in the world. “All I can do is little parlour tricks with my magic. Which are pretty and amusing, but hardly useful.”
He lifted his hands. Sparks jumped from the tips of his fingers into the air.
Gerard took a step back. His blood raced. His throat spasmed. The sparkles danced. His breathing picked up, and Gerard remembered the lightning striking him. And the searing pain burning through him.
Gerard closed his eyes, trying to take deep breaths.
I’m not back there anymore. I’m here. I’m safe.
Then he noticed that his cheek … and his chest … in fact, all his scars … they tingled. As if in response to the flashes of light. As if they, too, remembered the attack. He opened his eyes and lifted his hand, grazing his tingling cheek.
This had never happened before.
Since they had healed, other than some tightness, there had been nothing. In fact, there had been a dulling of the sensations on the scarred parts of his body.
Strange that magic this weak affected it.
And he’d seen lightning magic again on the battlefield after he’d been injured. He’d not felt this then. But perhaps he did not feel them in dragon form. Or he’d been too consumed by the chaos of battle to notice.
For the first time, Prince Elias turned and properly looked straight at Gerard. Perhaps Gerard touching his cheek had caught the prince’s attention.
His striking purple eyes widened. They fixed on Gerard’s marred face. He stepped forward and pointed straight at Gerard’s scars. “Is that from a lightning attack?”
Silence followed his words.
No one had ever asked Gerard that before. At least not like that. Not so abruptly. Not so rudely.
