Page 118 of Somber Prince

I tried to determine what this feeling could be, then realized that it was the echo of her pleasure—my memory of it. I knew what she normally felt when she laughed like that. And I remembered.

She ate a little more of her food as I finished mine quickly.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, leaning over to see my back.

The wound ached, pulling on the healing muscles whenever I moved. The layer of dried blood itched my skin, but the sharp pain was gone. After she’d pulled the iron out of my flesh, my body had been using its magic to heal.

“Fine.”

“Fine? Really? You had a knife stuck in your back.” She packed her remaining food into the cloth and put it back into the basket, then took the water sack out again. “Let me at least clean it.”

I took the bag from her and drank from it.

“No need to waste water for that. When we get to Kalmena—” I paused, wondering what I could possibly promise her upon our arrival when I wasn’t sure what to expect.

Dawn quietly drank some water, too, then put the bag away.

“Tell me about your mother,” she said. “What is she like?”

My back prickled with unease. This was not a simple topic.

“I never knew the queen as a mother,” I said slowly, choosing my words with care. “She never acted motherly toward me, not even when I was very little. In fact, I could count on the fingers of one hand when she spent any time with me at all.”

“But you’re her only child.”

“Not the one she wished to have.” I exhaled a bitter laugh.

“That’s ridiculous. Children are to be loved, no matter their gender.”

“Is that how it is in your world?”

She drew in some air to say something, then stopped.

“No,” she admitted. “In my world, sadly, parental love sometimes comes with conditions too. Do you not have any good memories of you and your mother together?”

I didn’t need to think long to answer.

“Just one. When I turned sixteen, the queen must’ve realized I was the only child she’d ever have, and that I was her one direct heir to the kingdom. I remember she joined me on a walk in the palace gardens. She asked me what the most important qualities a ruler of a kingdom should possess. I was so worried about giving her a wrong answer that I gave her none at all. She said there were two—a firm hand and compassion. The trick was to find the perfect balance between them. Then, she talked to me about the strategies she had employed during the centuries of being a queen. I remember every word she said then. It wasn’t hard to do since she hardly spoke to me either before or after that walk.”

“Did her attitude toward you not change even after that talk?”

I shook my head. “The queen accepted me as her successor but no more than that. After that talk in the gardens, she granted me access to the Royal Council meetings. When I turned eighteen, she started sending me with her army into battles, making sure I gained enough experience to eventually lead it.”

“She groomed you as the future king, but she never cared for you as her son?”

The queen made no secret that she would’ve preferred to have a daughter instead of a son, but there was nothing I could do about being what I was. I’d learned to shrug off the guilt, but the bitterness always lingered.

“It’s not just me. Queen Abeille doesn’t let anyone close. Ever since my father’s death, she’s been actively avoiding any feelings toward anyone. It’s common among my kind. Love often brings immeasurable pain, and it’s natural to avoid any potential new source of suffering.”

“Love can also bring the biggest joy, Rha. Even after it’s gone, good memories help us cope with loss. It’s a shame and grave injustice that shadow fae are incapable of experiencing that.”

I was fortunate to have experienced her deep affection for me. I’d tasted it. Even while we’d waited for the storm to pass back at the temple, a steady, warm glow of affection flowed through my tendrils from her, aiding my healing.

Dawn had been fighting her love for me, but it proved stronger than her. And for that, I was grateful. I needed her love. For me, it alone balanced all the suffering in the world.

She placed a hand on my knee, and I leaned closer, craving the contact with her body since I could no longer connect to her soul. My tendrils lay motionless on the seat. Any sensation from them was gone, banished by the iron restraints.

Lifting my hand, I touched the side of her face. Her skin felt rougher than usual with traces of sandstorm clinging to it, but her eyes shone brighter than ever. Her lips parted, and I couldn’t wait anymore.

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