Varsha looked a bit surprised by the question. “I do, but I only use them for my paintings. Most fae don’t notice.”
“I always wanted water powers,” she whispered to herself.
“Why?”
“Water is the source of creation, everyone and everything needs it to grow. It’s nurturing instead of devastating.”
“You do know that the most powerful water fae can use it to provoke crashing waves that destroy everything on their way?”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Amira said with a serious face.
Varsha squeezed Amira’s hand. “I know you wouldn’t.” The door opened and Varsha quickly let go of Amira’s hand, leaving the princess with just the impression of warmth and comfort.
Karwyn and Rhay stared at them for a second before Karwyn exclaimed, “Let us finish this.” Everyone regained their previous positions. Amira on the chair, Karwyn standing next to her, and Rhay completely spread out on his armchair, the book in his hand.
Varsha started painting again and Amira quickly felt her mind being plagued by thoughts and boredom. She didn’t care to entertain either of them so she just tried to focus on what was happening around her. But, except for Rhay’s not so discreet reactions to his novel, nothing much was going on. Her arms started to feel numb. She discreetly stretched them, but Karwyn still noticed and scoffed. Amira’s anger rose in her stomach. Who did he think he was to police her that much?
“Keep still, do not prolong this. As the future high king, I do not have all day,” he hissed. Amira realised that his hand was now fully on her shoulder. She almost slapped it away. Instead, she removed his hand by shaking her shoulder.
Noticing the tension, Varsha tried to diffuse it. “Maybe you could talk to each other to create a sense of intimacy for the portrait?” Karwyn looked at Amira with utter disgust. “Maybe you can recall the first time you met?” tried Varsha.
“She was thirteen. I accompanied my father to a trade talk in Allamyst. I met Amira at a ball and she was an insufferable brat who would rather dance alone than with the son of the high king.”
Before Amira had time to reply, Rhay jumped to her rescue. “In her defence, I’ve seen how you dance. It’s not glorious.”
Amira couldn’t help but gloat when she saw Karwyn’s infuriated face. She remembered Rhay’s advice and was determined to try it. “As I recall, we barely exchanged two words, so I don’t know how you decided that I was a brat. You were the one who asked me to dance with the face of someone who would rather die than waltz with me.”
“My father instructed me to ask you. It was common courtesy,” Karwyn replied.
Amira rolled her tense shoulder. “So you do whatever your father tells you?”
Karwyn snapped back immediately, “And you do whatever your brother says, no? We make a great pair.”
Her attempt at seduction had clearly backfired. She turned her head to see her fiancé’s face was paler than usual. She knew she had gone too far when she had mentioned his father.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have mentioned your father. That was disrespectful of me.” Her apology was heartfelt; she remembered Karwyn’s strong reaction when she had brought up his parents’ deaths on Falea Night.
She thought Karwyn was going to say something, but he just turned his attention to the painter. Rhay, who had observed the rest of the exchange with wide eyes as he sat next to Varsha, leaned towards the painter and whispered quite loudly in her ear, “I guess small talk isn’t really their thing.” He winked at Amira when he saw her smile at his remark.
“I can finish the rest of the painting on my own, you are free to go back to your duties,” Varsha said as she smiled at Amira.
Blushing, Amira stood up and walked awkwardly towards the door. Something was pulling her back and she turned around to see what was happening. Karwyn had grabbed one of the ribbons of her dress.
“Stay. We need to talk,” he said, calmly for once.
“Okay,” she replied, a bit unsure but also curious to see what Karwyn wanted.
The interim high king gestured to Rhay and Varsha and they both quickly left the room, Rhay with his book and Varsha with her painting. They both brushed against Amira’s arm when they passed her. A confusing shiver ran down her spine. Then it was just Karwyn and her.
She walked around the room, finally paying attention to the décor. With her hand, she caressed the petals of a strange silver rose that was held in a precious vase.
She turned to Karwyn. “What do you want to talk about?” He was being civil, which worried her more than calmed her. Was he luring her in as Wryen often did just to completely crush her?
“Come here,” he demanded.
She furrowed her brows and showed her back to him. She wanted to avoid whatever was waiting for her.
“Come next to me, please,” he asked this time.
