The sincerity in his voice makes my heart rattle against my ribs. “Knowing it’s here makes me happy. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
When his gaze rips away from mine, it feels like the sun’s slipped behind a cloud. He watches Ryals, who’s hunting for frogs in the bushes. “Thatiswhat I wanted.”
Even though Feylin’s relaxed, his clothing is stillmiraculously wrinkle-free. “How do you keep your clothes looking so perfect all the time?”
He glances down at them in surprise. “Magic. It wouldn’t do for a king to have wrinkles, and while we’re on the subject—why are you always put in itchy clothing?”
I tip my head back and laugh. “It’s a curse, I guess. I don’t know. I think the original witches wanted to curse me, so they made sure that for every major event, the clothes are itchy.”
“Hm,” is all he says. The sun’s high in the sky, and he tips his face toward it as if drinking up the warmth. “There’s an old story about a witch and a fae. It’s supposed to be the beginning of the rift.”
My eyes flare. “Tell me. I don’t know anything about the history. Our books don’t dive into it.”
He eyes me with mock suspicion. “And what should you give me, since you want this information so much?”
“Don’t push me, or I’ll run my finger over your collarbone. I know what that does to you.”
“Sadist,” he jokes.
I laugh and shake my head. “Are you going to tell me the story?”
“Only because you’re such delightful company.”
“I’m going to pretend you mean that.”
“I do mean it,” he says sternly.
Heat blotches my neck, and I can’t look at him. His words carry too much meaning. “The story?”
“Yes, the story.” He plucks a blade of grass and twirls it between his fingers while he speaks. “It’s said that a fae king fell in love with the queen of the witches.”
“We don’t have a queen,” I tell him, my nose wrinkled in skepticism.
He rolls his eyes. “It’s a story. Are you going to let me tell it, or are you going to interrupt me?”
“Fine. I’ll be quiet.”
“Thank you.” He watches me silently, waiting for an interruption. When he’s satisfied that I’ll keep my promise, he restarts. “A long time ago, a fae king fell in love with the queen of the witches.”
He gives me a look that says,well, are you going to let me speak?I almost want to throw something at him, but when I don’t argue, he keeps on. “It’s said that their love was true, but blood had already been shed between the two people. The king’s advisors told him not to marry the witch, and her people warned her against the union as well, but the king was persistent, stubborn.”
“Sounds like someone else I know.” I really couldn’t resist. He walked right into that one.
Feylin scowls, but light fills his eyes. “To prove to his people that the two were meant to be in the relationship, the king threw a ball and invited the witching community and his lords. The people were wary when they realized the king wanted to unite their people, but he had a surprise for them. At the end of the night he plucked a red rose from a bush and presented it to the crowd. He told everyone that he’d imbued the flower with a spell. If he handed the rose to his witch and when she took it, it turned golden, that meant their love was true. But if the rose withered and turned black, their love was false. If it died, he told his people, then he would sever the relationship with the witch, even though he loved her terribly.”
He drops the blade of grass and traces a line on the blanket with his finger. The suspense is killing me. “Well?” I finally say in a huff. “What happened?”
Those sapphire eyes lock onto mine, and it’s all I can do to remember to breathe. “What do you think happened?”
“I don’t know. Our people hate each other. It makes me think the rose turned black, which would be awful. But that would also mean the witch didn’t really love him in return.”
Feylin nods slightly. “When he gave her the rose, it turned into gold, proving their love was real.”
My heart warms and I sigh. “That’s so romantic. But it’s not true, right?”
“No, it’s true. The roses exist.”
I sit up and cross my legs. “No!”
