“Younger siblings and cousins tend to do that.” He tilted his head. “What are they like?”
I relaxed as I talked about my sisters and cousin. How Cyrene’s joy magic manifested even as a child, making her naturally cheerful and optimistic. How Adele’s weather abilities had caused impromptu snowstorms whenever she had nightmares after our parents died. And how Victoria’s bright mind kept my own hopping.
We ate as we talked.
“I essentially raised my sisters,” I said, immediately worrying it sounded like boasting. “I mean, we had our grandmother, of course. But someone needed to manage the day-to-day details. Make sure they ate properly, kept up with their studies, learned proper spell control.”
“That’s an enormous responsibility for someone so young.” Dominic’s expression held no judgment, only understanding. “How old were you when your parents died?”
“Fourteen. Cyrene is the youngest, and Adele’s themiddle child. Victoria is Adele’s age.” The familiar ache settled in my chest. “They needed me to be strong, to have answers. I couldn’t afford to fall apart.”
“So you became the strategist. The planner who anticipated every problem before it could hurt them.”
The accuracy of his observation startled me. “Yes, exactly.”
“They’re grown. Two are married.” He leaned forward, his green eyes intent on my face. “What do you need now, Sasha?”
The question hung between us, far more intimate than court politics or magical contamination. I touched my locket, buying time while I searched for an answer that wouldn’t reveal too much.
“I don’t know,” I finally said. “I’ve spent so long focusing on what they need that I’m not sure I know how to think about my own wants.”
“Well, start small.” His tone lightened. “What do you miss most about home?”
I considered the question. “The gardens at my grandmother’s estate. They’re different from fae gardens. More structured, I suppose, but also deeply peaceful. I used to spend hours there when I needed to think.”
“What made them peaceful for you?”
“The predictability. Every plant is in its proper place, responding to care in expected ways.” I paused, recognizing how that sounded. “That probably seems boring compared to wild fae gardens.”
“Not at all.” Dominic refilled my wine glass. “It sounds like exactly what someone carrying enormous responsibility would need. A space where everything makes sense.”
He actually understood why I craved structure and control without making me feel diminished for it.
“What about you?” I asked, wanting to shift focus. “What was it like growing up here?”
His expression flickered. “Complicated. My mother was an excellent queen, but ruling took most of her energy. And my father…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “My father was banished from the kingdom when I was fifteen.”
I set down my fork, giving him my full attention. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been difficult.”
“He was unfaithful to my mother. Cheated with another woman in a very public way that humiliated both her and the court. She inherited the crown, not him. He was her consort.” Bitterness edged his voice. “Mother had no choice but to banish him. He lives on the eastern border now with the other woman. I haven’t seen him since.”
The parallel so close to my own age when my parents died wasn’t lost on me. That was an age of loss for both of us.
“And then your mother abdicated when you were twenty?” I asked.
“Yes. She said I was ready, that the court needed fresh leadership.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m still not entirely sure she was right about that.”
“The court adores you.”
“They adore the performance I give them. The charming king who makes it all seem effortless.” He met my gaze. “But you’ve seen past that already, haven’t you?”
The vulnerability in his admission made my throat tighten. “You’re thoughtful and serious when you’re alone. You care deeply about your people and your responsibilities.”
“And which version do you prefer?” he asked.
The question felt loaded with meaning.
“I prefer the real you. Whichever that is.”
