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He raised an eyebrow. “Hugh says she has significant magic that she had a difficult time managing. And a few who witnessed her on the equinox and have since traveled to Embercrest had said the same.”

There was no way to deny that. I thought of her shattering the tree yesterday, the amount of power that had to take, and her fear her father might have been Alholím.

“If it eases your worry, none seem scared of the possibility. Mostly just unsure.”

I understood the sentiment.

“They are dead, Prescott,” I said softly. The lines around his mouth deepened. “How could she be of their heritage if they are gone?”

There was a long pause where it was clear he was deciding just what to say. I braced for more questions, more proof that she was potentially Alholím despite the impossibility.

“Her parents?” he asked instead.

I shook my head. “She never truly knew them, though she has vague memories of her father. He had hair the same rich black as hers and similar magic, but his eyes were hazel.”

“And she does not remember her mother?”

I shook my head. She hadn’t said anything defining about her mother from the memory dream, not beyond the vow her father had apparently made to her.

“Besides,” I said, “I have seen her twin who also joined the Grand Rite with her. She looks nothing like them. Her hair is a dark brown like the trunks of the ludian trees, and her skin isn’t as fair. I imagine she looks much more like their mother.”

He hummed, still in thought.

“Have you ever heard about something called the ‘old magic’?” The question slipped out.

Prescott raised an eyebrow but didn’t press for more context. “In Destral and a few of the other nations in the Far Lands, the old magics are always in reference to the gods and goddesses. I do not believe it’s a tradition that has held here, though.”

“Why would you need to differentiate them?”

He frowned. “Our magic is great, but their powers were cataclysmic. The stories of the Alholím laying waste are a children’s game in comparison to some of the stories I grew up hearing involving the gods when they still walked this land.” He tilted his head again. “Why do you ask?”

I swallowed. Amethyst and I hadn’t discussed telling anyone about her dreams or the prophecy we had been given. I didn’t necessarily need to explain those parts to Prescott, though. Unless he asked how I knew of my mother’s vision, they were incidental to my question anyway.

“My mother had a vision from when she was quite young, barely past her maturity. It mentioned a child blessed of the old magic. For some reason, it’s been on my mind the last few days.”

Before he could say anything in response, another knock rapped on the door.

“Your Highness?” Simeon’s voice was formal. “Lorraine is here as well as your dinner.”

46

AMETHYST

Monique handed me a frozen ice and then arranged herself on the large blanket beside me. “It’s orange,” she said. “They almost didn’t let me pay for it. Amaria pressed the issue, though.”

Kalise smiled where she sat on one of the benches placed around the covered pavilion where we’d spent the Spring equinox in the Central Square. Today, she wore a light green dress with a diamond panel removed, showcasing her marriage tattoo that sat nestled just under her bust. Anticipation thrummed through me at the thought of having my own soon.

“It’s our honor to have one of the princesses join us,” she said. “Many here would rather not have you pay to show their appreciation.”

Monique laughed even as she said, “It’s Arden’s money, though, not Callum’s!”

I frowned even as I took a bite of the ice. It was cool and crisp on my tongue, and I sighed in happiness. Shelby and Kalise both laughed at my obvious satisfaction. Monique watched me with a bit more scrutiny, the only one who probably understood why I reclined on this blanket with another on my lap despite the warm enough day. Very few around us were wearing shawls or heavy velvet fabrics to counteract cooler temperatures.

Callum’s scent was so faint on the blanket in my lap, I doubted anyone other than another omega could even smell it. Well, Arden probably could, too, but he stood about fifteen feet away speaking with a few of the other prominent members of one artisan guild or another. Though his gaze slid to Monique every few minutes, it was Tegan who was the nearer of the two guards. He stood only a few feet away from me, in a light conversation with Vincent. I wondered for a moment if Arden knew how much I was struggling with Callum’s absence or if he understood that every time I smelled his bourbon and mint scent I wanted to tear off my skin and weep.

I shook off the thoughts and focused on the celebration that had been happening for hours all around me.

Leafwake—the official first planting of the spring season—wasn’t as formal a celebration as the equinox, but there were still carts full of wares and kids playing and various groups talking and enjoying themselves. The guardsmen wore what I assumed was half-court regalia, the same as Callum had worn on Magefall. Neither wore the white half-capes, and their swords were strapped down their spine rather on their right hip.