Page 57 of Wrath of the Never Queen

My ears prick at her choice of words, my au’mana humming.

“A magic?” I query gently, pretending to fiddle with the pins in my hair.

“Yes…” She smiles sadly. “Lucian had it as well, but our mother passed before she could teach him anything.”

Inez stares vacantly, and I stay quiet, allowing her to speak.

“Sometimes, she would make things glow. It was wonderful,” she recalls, with a fond look. “She wrote everything in her journal, but it was in another language, so I was never able to understand it.”

Another language? If Inez’s mother made things glow, it must be witchtongue. A wave of familiarity and kinship washes softly over me, calling my name.

“I may be able to read it,” I say, treading carefully with my words. It does not appear Inez is aware her mother and brother were witches. “I am quite good with languages.”

“Oh?” Inez’s eyes light up. “The letters are different to ours, though.”

I turn to smile at her. I think of my own mother and how I have nothing of her,besides her temperament. It must pain Inez to have something of her mother’s that she cannot understand, especially if she has no au’mana to bond them.

“That is quite alright, I am sure I can translate it for you. It is the least I could do for your kindness and friendship.”

Inez beams at me, her hands clasped in front of her mouth.

“That is most generous of you, miss.”

“Not at all, Inez.” I wave her off. “Bring me her journal, and we will go through it together. I would love to know more about your mother. What was her name?”

“Ruya,” she replies. “Her name was Ruya.”

???

When I step into the dining room, I realise it is lighter than it has ever been. A thousand candles circle the room, elevating it from its usual cavernous dimness into a well-lit chamber. The long table in the middle, usually laden with a feast, has been reduced to two sets of plates and cutlery sitting opposite each other at the head. One of them is in front of Theo. He stands up when I enter and dips his head.

“Good evening, Miss Shivani,” he greets, only a hint of the smile he reserves for me playing on his lips.

“Good evening, Your Highness.” I curtsyback. He walks around the table to draw my seat back for me, tucking it under me as I sit, before returning to his place opposite me. The candlelight flickers across his face, setting his grey eyes aglow. He leans across slightly.

“You look beautiful as ever,” he says quietly, avoiding the echo of the room.

“My thanks,” I reply, cheeks warming.

Servants bring out our dinner—a main course of thick lentil stew, flatbreads loaded with butter and garlic, and baby potatoes cooked in salt and fennel. The smell is divine, and I inhale it deeply.

“This looks amazing, Your Highness.” I gaze at the dish.

“I asked Inez to inform me of your favourites. I heard you have been teaching our kitchen staff some new recipes,” he replies with a playful glint in his eye, ladling the lentil stew and placing it on my plate. “I was hoping this evening would be most enjoyable for you.”

I suppress a shudder of glee at this show of affection. I chide myself for somehow not realising he has been doing similar things for several months. Now I know his feelings are the same as mine, I fully submerge myself in it and allow it to flow freely, rather than attempting to squeeze them in a box.

Only one thing gnaws at me—Theo, despite putting on this decadent display of his intentions, remains rigidly formal anytime weare not alone. I dip the flatbread into my stew, wondering if perhaps he is embarrassed of me. I am a commoner and a prisoner, and it is likely he is expected to marry a woman of nobility whose father has not sold her to pay off his debts.

I shake off this fear, determined to enjoy the evening. Theo holds up his goblet of wine.

“A toast,” he says. “To allies and sanctuaries.”

I clink the rim of my goblet against his, and he smiles at me warmly.

“How are your paintings coming along?” he asks before scooping a large spoonful of baby potatoes onto his plate.

“Wonderfully, Your Highness. I have decided to try my hand at still life.”

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