“Folliade? He’s searching for his mother—the stolen queen. It’s a long story, but it’s what ended our alliance with the Kingdom of Terrain.”
“He thinks she’s here? In the castle?”
“I don’t know what he thinks,” I admitted. “He requested to search the Temple and offices in Embris, as well as the castle, for evidence that my father kidnapped her. The official story is that after a gathering of all the High Lords in Tercia, Folliade’s mother vanished from her chambers. Many suspected my father because of his reputation. He fled the kingdom around the same time she disappeared.”
“In retaliation, Folliade’s father invaded our lands searching for her… and instead found my mother.”
“And murdered her.”
“I’m… sorry for your loss,” she said softly. She paused from eating and set her fork down; her eyes widened in horror and then sympathy. “I know what it’s like to grow up without parents.”
She looked down, rolling her lips as she considered her next words.
“Do you think he did it? Your father… Nerot?” I exhaled slowly.
“I’ve always denied it. But after today…” I hesitated. “I don’t know. I was a Faeling when it happened. And if an Earth Fae queen had been wandering these halls, I believe I would have known. I doubt Folliade will find anything.”
Her mind was working. I could see it.
“Are you worried about talking to the council about meeting the Kingdom of Seas’ demands to free the enslaved Fire Fae?”
I didn’t want to discuss politics right now. But she had learned too much today to let it rest.
“Freeing the slaves and redacting the Law of Flesh will be nearly impossible,” I said. “But I’ve taken a liking to Antonius. I believe he’ll hear me out without causing immediate chaos.”
She offered me a proud grin. “If anyone can do it, it’s you, Titus. You’re the most powerful male I’ve ever seen.”
“Well,” I said dryly, “you’ve only met about six Fae males.
But thank you. I’ll do my best.”
“Do you want to try something?” I asked. She hesitated. “Sure.”
“Hold your hand above the candle flame.” “Shield projection?”
“Yes. Smaller scale. Much safer.”
She hovered her hand above the flame.
“Why practice shield projection if we can stop the war without the God Dragon?” she asked.
Her pulse quickened—not desire. Fear. She was terrified of Mount Orid.
“Because I don’t know how this will unfold,” I said quietly. “But I know it will be dangerous. If I can master shield projection, I can protect you from anything that may come.”
She nodded and lowered her hand slowly. I focused.
A pearlescent shield formed around her palm. It held as she moved through the flame.
She gasped in delight— Then hissed in pain.
The shield flickered. She pulled back. “Let me see,” I said immediately.
A small burn reddened her palm. I healed it within seconds. But she wasn’t upset about the burn.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Does it still hurt?” She shook her head.
“Then what is it, Pickles?” She avoided my eyes.
