“Shh, just watch.”
He turned to catch her rolling her eyes, and something else too—a small hint of a smile tugging up her lips.
Thirty
Daimon
Twenty-Five Years Ago
“Evie,I know you’re up there!” a young, bone-thin Daimon called from the base of the Mother Tree.
“You always know where she runs off to,” Carwyn, Evelina’s older sister, had quipped earlier in the evening to Daimon. He’d finally found a flask of ale to sneak back to Ren so they could see what it tasted like. But, as usual, Carwyn caught him, took the flask, and sent him to find her missing youngest sister. “Get her back before Mother notices she’s missing again.”
He did know where she always ran off to, which is why he was here at the heart of the palace in the Radix Room. It was thankfully empty while everyone was at the celebration. Tiny purple buds crunched beneath his boots, the dried herb sending a sweet botanical scent into the air.
He tried again. “You left buds from your lavender stems behind!”
“Go away, Daimon,” she called out from within the depths of the tree.
He sighed, knowing that if she had lavender with her, then that wasn’t a good sign. Limb by limb, he climbed through theMother Tree. Evelina was seated on a wooden swing hanging from one of the highest branches. It was held up by thick cords of ivy, and was wide enough for two people to sit on comfortably. She sat with a puffy dress hiked up to her knees, the hem streaked with dirt. Her bare feet were stained with mud, matching her soil-covered hands.
“Carwyn made me wear the dress,” she huffed. “I told her I had to check on the lamiaceae in the herb garden before I got dressed, but she said there wasn’t time for that.”
“Let me guess…you checked on them anyway?” Daimon walked across the branch, placing one foot in front of the other until he could hop onto the swing with her.
“I took my flats off so they wouldn’t get dirty, but the dress didn’t fare as well as I would’ve hoped.” She wiggled her feet out in front of her, causing pieces of dry soil to crumble off.
He hummed, holding back a smile. “Princesses don’t usually wear dirty celebration gowns.”
“Who cares?” She shrugged, not bothered in the least. “Mother said I’ve shown a lot of potential with mixing herbs, so they can’t be too upset.”
This time, he didn’t hold back his grin. She never seemed to care what others thought, just marched to the beat of her own offbeat drum.
“Carwyn wants me to take you back to the party,” he admitted.
She grinned and moved her legs out and back in, spurring the swing into action. “How about you skip it and stay up here instead?”
He considered it a moment, knowing that he wasn’t part of a strong family and could get away with such a thing.
In the Valon Empire, wealth was irrelevant. Most everyone’s needs were met through trade or freely given by the crown.
Still, there was a hierarchy. A pure bloodline with strong magic gained certain fae favor in the realm. A powerful bloodline meant people either respected you or feared you. It was aposition of power that was earned by generations of noble fae lineage, not something that could be bought, stolen, or manipulated.
He was the youngest to have such control over his shadows in generations, but he was still young—and that’s all most fae saw. The only reason Daimon even got to stay near the castle was because of Maliena’s position. Even though he was not her real son, they gave him the same permissions they gave to Annora, a true council head’s child.
But he couldn’t say no to Evelina. “Ren and I already got caught trying to steal ale, so I should probably hide out here for a while.”
“You shouldn’t let them boss you around.” She unbound her braid one strand at a time as she spoke. “They’re only a few years older than us.”
He watched her fingers work, running through the pieces of light brown hair and unraveling them strand by strand.
“They can still control their Essence more than I can.” He sighed.
“For now.” She wiggled her brows, causing him to laugh. The lavender she carried around with her sat between them. She picked up a couple stems, examining them closely.
“What was it this time?” he asked gently.
“Carwyn said I was a bad princess.” She squinted at the lavender. Her voice was filled with annoyance—at herself or at her siblings, he wasn’t sure. It could be any number of things, and he wished he could read her thoughts just to figure it out.
