I nod slowly. “So, again, start small.”
He inclines his head. “And start soft. Magic responds best when we treat it like a partner, not a servant. You’re not commanding it. You’re inviting it.”
It makes sense, but I’m not sure if I can put the theory into practice.
“So what were you trying to tell me?” Nadya asks.
I smirk at her. “I was telling you to stop being cute.”
A giggle bursts free from her lips. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
Despite trying again, I’m unable to send any message to Nadya’s brain, no matter how short the sentence. And although we move on to other forms of magic my body released during Dante’s trials, I’m unable to get the water in Ezra’s cup to splash or freeze. We resort to practicing my energy-force magic, which gives me no trouble when I use it on things that are small. But when the light outside the windows begins to dim, we decide to call it a day and get ready for dinner.
Indira finishes my braid and takes a step back. “That should do it,” she says. “Dinner is taking place outside on the castle’s veranda, and I wouldn’t want the wind to whip your hair into your face.”
“Thank you, Indira.”
“If they serve any mulberry beignets, I highly recommend you have some.” She looks between me and Nadya. “I’ve only had them once, but I remember them being the best dessert I’ve ever had in my life.”
“Why have you only had them once?” Nadya asks.
“Because mulberries aren’t usually exported from Mersos. They keep them to themselves, I guess.” Indira sighs. “What I wouldn’t give for another taste.”
“We’ll keep our eye out for them,” Nadya promises. “Maybe even bring some to you, if we’re able.”
Indira shakes her head, but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips. “Don’t go getting in trouble because of me. I’m supposed to be keeping you twooutof trouble.”
Sir Holden escorts Nadya and me down the well-crafted staircase and through the maze of hallways that lead to the castle’s veranda. The scent of roasted meat and sweet herbs drifts through the warm, evening air as we step outside. The veranda is massive—an expanse of polished wood stretching along the cliffside, open to the sky. The setting sun casts a golden haze over the fields in the valley below, painting the crops in hues of amber and crimson. Neatly divided patches of farmland stretch toward the horizon, where rows of wheat, corn, and barley ripple in the breeze. Closer to the southern sea, towering stone warehouses loom—no doubt filled to the brim with goods destined for the rest of the realms.
Long tables gleam beneath silk awnings, the fabric fluttering lazily in the breeze. No extravagance is spared. Crystal goblets catch the fading sunlight, glittering like scattered stars. Platters overflow with fresh fruit—figs and blood oranges sliced open to reveal their glistening flesh—while baskets spill with golden bread braided intricately into knots. Pitchers of honeyed wine glint in the firelight from the torch-lit sconces positioned around the deck, flickering against the approaching dusk. Servants carry plates of food I’ve never seen before in my life, and I wonder if I’ll have room in my belly to try them all.
I’m led to my seat near the center of the table, and as I settle into the carved, wooden chair, my eyes immediately find Dante. He sitsdirectly across from me, and though his posture composed, I sense him relax a bit when he notices me. The evening breeze stirs his black hair, and the fading light sharpens the angles of his jaw. When his storm-grey eyes lock with mine, the rest of the world falls away for a breath, until the scrape of a chair pulls me back to reality.
Queen Shaylin takes her seat at the head of the table, flanked by her kings, Gallor, the tall and brooding one, and Birchus, the auburn-haired man whose smile never quite reaches his eyes. King Silas sits to their right, already deep in conversation with them, no doubt reinforcing Hedera’s position as their most generous patron. Queen Eleanor sits beside him, her face pale and drawn, but she holds herself with quiet dignity.
Dante sits two seats away from the king—close enough to remind everyone that he is ready to become the newly legitimized prince, but far enough to maintain the unspoken distance that still lingers between them. I know he’s being tested every moment he’s here. The triarchs wouldn’t let this opportunity pass without gauging his ability to follow in his father’s footsteps, and more importantly, to ensure he understands where Mersos’s interests lie.
In his pockets, to be precise.
The man beside Dante turns toward us with a warm smile, his dark-brown hair swept back in loose waves and his beard trimmed short to frame his strong jaw. His deep-set eyes are the color of roasted chestnuts.
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” he says with an accent I can’t quite place. “Lord Pedro of Southmere Valley, Mersos. My family oversees the garnet mines east of the Alvean cliffs. You are Princess Celeste, I believe.”
“Yes,” I say with a polite smile. “And this is Lady Nadya.”
Nadya gives a little wave, mid-sip of her wine, and lowers her glass with a grin. “Nice to meet you, my lord.”
Lord Pedro’s gaze lingers a little longer on her. Not leering, but curious. Admiring. “Nadya,” he repeats, as if tasting the syllables. “A rare name. Fitting.”
Nadya blushes, just barely, and I exchangea look with Dante, holding back a smirk.
Pedro turns his attention momentarily to Dante. “Lord Dante, I understand Mersos will be the last stop on your tour. You must be looking forward to finalizing the legitimization.”
Dante raises his goblet in quiet acknowledgment. “While it will be nice to return home, I’m making it a point to enjoy the fascinating realm of Mersos. It certainly is filled with rare delights.”
Lord Pedro nods, his gaze returning to Nadya. “Yes, you are right. I find that rare delights appear unexpectedly at times, and one must seize the opportunity to cherish them.”
Nadya’s eyes widen slightly, and I swear I feel her toes nudge mine under the table, probably checking to see if I’m hearing this right.
