Weathering the intensity of his gaze, I said, “So, what now?”
His lips curved into a crooked smirk as if he’d been waiting for me to utter those very words. “Now, you learn our real histories, and we figure out what exactly the spark is, and how it works.”
After breakfast, I accompanied the king to a hexagonal room. It was intimate, about half the size of the chamber I was staying in and featured windows instead of walls on every side apart from wherewe’d entered. The room was devoid of adornments. No furniture. No curtains. Nothing.
As I surveyed it, I could feel the king’s unwavering gaze upon me. Turning to face him, I raised a brow in silent question and a ghost of a smile tugged at his features.
“This,” he said, stepping into the middle of the room hands gesturing to the sides, “is where I started training many, many moons ago. It’s witnessed more spells than anywhere else on the estate. My hope is that exposing you to magic, even small amounts, will help us learn about the spark.”
“Why this room?”
“I’m not entirely sure how my ancestors decided. Location, perhaps? One thing I’m certain of though, is that the echo of residual magic it holds makes spellcraft easier—as if it’s primed to obey our summons.”
With a subtle upward twist of his wrist an ancient tome materialized, then turning his wrist downward it was gone just as quickly as it had arrived. It was simultaneously fascinating and jarring.
I wondered if I’d ever fully acclimate to this alternate reality of magic. And monarchs. And fae.
He made a sweeping motion toward the far wall, and to my astonishment one of the windows transformed into a door that now led out to the sprawling gardens. He stepped toward it.
“Aren’t we going to train, or whatever it is we’re going to do?” I asked, following him. He paused, allowing me to catch up to him.
“Not yet,” he said. “I gathered you would be more comfortable if we took a stroll through the gardens and eased our way into things—I don’t want to overwhelm you again.”
Embarrassment rose up my cheeks, stealing my words.
We ambled down a meandering path brimming with the vitality of spring. Flawlessly manicured lawns carpeted the land in patterns that accentuated the garden’s beauty. I yearned to kick off my shoes and feel the lush blades against my soles and I wondered if I would prefer its feeling to moss.
Long moments of quietude passed, and I found myself grateful to the sovereign for extending me this courtesy. He didn’t have to cater to the anxiety and overwhelm that were now my constant companions.
“How can you wield magic like you just did?” I asked.
“It wasn’t magic, per se, but spellcraft.”
“But in the stories I’ve read, spells need some sort of incantation, or something of that nature to work. Is this not the case?”
“That’s true, and for centuries it was true for me too. But I’ve learned to wield spells with thought alone.”
“Can others do that?”
“To my knowledge, no. I am the only one.” There was no arrogance in his words, only fact.
“Why?”
“Well, I suppose no other human has been granted the luxury of time to perfect it like I have.”
Right, he was immortal—I shook off the strange concept and pressed on. “But what about the fae? The stories claim they’re immortal too. Wouldn’t that mean they’d have similar abilities?”
“Yes, Lady Time has blessed the fae with immortality, but they weren’t granted the ability to wield spells. As far as I can ascertain, the inherent magic coursing through their veins prohibits it. Simply put, their bodies aren’t compatible. It’s akin to comparing a human to a tree,” he said, laying a palm against the papery bark of a nearby aspen. “We inhale oxygen and turn it into carbon dioxide, while a tree is the polar opposite. You see, we can both harness the same elements, but in a dichotomous way.” We continued walking. “Everything in life, and death, is all about balance, Nyleeria, including magic.”
I pondered his words for a long moment.
“So, it’s like fae and humans are two sides of the same medallion,” I said. “Bound by the Mother, but on opposing sides.”
He smiled and I could have sworn a glint of pride lit his eyes. “Yes, that’s exactly it.”
We continued on, lazily crossing the threshold to the forest.
Chapter 11
