Page 135 of Court of the Fae Princes

I frown. “How’d you know that?” What does a spirit that lives in a tree know of the courts and royals? We’re far from the Summer Court, and the spirit isn’t close to the road where he’d hear passersby.

“Whispers live in the wind and reach far beyond your courts. I know more than you could imagine. Make a light, so I can see your face.”

Now tree-beings think I can use magic too. Great.

“I can’t.”

The spirit stares and laughs. “You’re a funny royal, but a light, please, Your Highness!”

“Seriously,” I say, feeling ashamed, “my magic isn’t strong enough to make a light.” Hell, I just learned that I have some fae in me and can do magic. Both things I hadn’t quite wrapped my head around just yet.

“You’re serious. You really believe that.” He’s laughing again, this time so hard that he shakes the tree making some birds fly out of it. “Your power is so strong, I can feel it radiating off of you.”

I look at him, dumbfounded. I don’t feel any power anywhere inside of me. How could he be feeling it? What’s more, if I had powerful magic, wouldn’t it have surfaced like all the other fae when I was just a child? Wouldn’t they have seen I was a magical fae the day I was born?

He looks as startled as a tree spirit can look. “Could it be?” the spirit asks, then clicks three times. “No, it can’t be. Hmm. Hmm. Hmm.”

What in the world is he talking about?

He continues speaking, this time softer, almost to himself. “They’re the key. Her power’s locked. Make the match and then just watch.”

“Key? My powers are locked? What does that mean?”

“They’re your key,” he says, emphasizing each word.

I look around in aggravation. “Who?”

“The who that started this all!” he exclaims.

Who started what all? Wait. “The princes? They’re the key to something?”

“To your power’s lock. Make the match and then just watch.”

Is he talking about me lighting the wood on fire? It’s like a match, and then I can use my magic now? This tree spirit is both confusing and frustrating. Why do all these ancient, powerful creatures have to talk in circles? Do they enjoy being annoying?

“Are you talking about when I lit the fire? Listen, I’m completely confused,” I admit, and my body begins to tremble.

He pauses, and I get the sense he’s considering me for a minute before he keeps talking. “Some fae need a boost to awaken their magic. Troubled births can lock the power up tight,” the spirit says more to the forest than to me. His eyes flip around as he speaks.

My chest feels tight. Is that true? “My mother died when I was born.”

He frowns. “No. No. It’s more than that. Your birth had to hurt so much that it hurt your magic. Pain responds to pain. Goodness gets trapped when bad is around. Magic can’t work in the presence of pain.” The spirit babbles on and on. I can’t understand what he’s talking about.

“Give me your hands.” The spirit reaches out his own hand that resemble gnarled branches.

My hands instinctively curl into fists, and I hide them behind my back. I don’t understand what’s happening at all. “Why?”

“So I can help,” he whispers softly.

The gnarled hand remains outstretched, and after a deep breath, I offer them to him. When he touches my hands, the lines on my palms take on a golden glow. The glow lights up the spirit's face, and I can see even more detail than before. The lines in the wood look like wrinkles on his face, and his eyes are a brown so deep that they look like knots in the wood.

“You will make a wonderful queen. The kind of queen that’s not been seen in ages, if at all,” he tells me as he traces a finger along the longest line on my palms. It shines brighter when he touches it.

I can't imagine what being a queen is even like. What does a queen do all day? Who does a queen talk to? Most of the fae royals seem to do nothing at all, but could I do more? Could I maybe help the humans in a way they’ve never been helped before?

Maybe. If I become queen.

“You will find happiness. More happiness than you can imagine. More happiness than you think should be allowed.”

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