Page 37 of Of Blood & Stone

His smile didn’t falter. “Don’t sell yourself so short. You’re on the mend, soon to be back in the gardens and creating more than all the other Kreenas combined.”

She didn’t argue with him as she took his extended arm, the gesture unfamiliar. He seemed elated, so unlike the panic she'd seen him wear the day she'd been poisoned. Both emotions were foreign to his ageless face.

“Now, Sylzenya,” he continued, leading her towards a statue. “I’m assuming you’re wondering when the cure will take full effect; I’m pleased to inform you it shouldn’t take any longer than a few more days.”

She took a brief breath, a small smile pulling at her mouth. “That’s wonderful news, Your Grace. Thank you.”

The emptiness inside her chest ebbed, replaced with a ray of hope.

His grin widened. “It is. If that’s all?—”

“It’s not,” she interrupted, her nerves causing her arm to shake.

Cold fingers gripped her forearm. The High One’s brows furrowed, his moment of excitement lessened as he looked at the guards, then at her.

He lowered his voice. “Is there something wrong?”

“No,” Sylzenya quickly replied, “in fact, the opposite.”

Be wary of who you trust.

The bird’s deep blue eyes cut across her vision, its warning thrumming inside her chest. She needed to tell him before she convinced herself not to.

“Wonderful,” the High One replied, “I’m eager to hear what news you’ve brought to share?—”

“Aretta’s Willow,” Sylzenya blurted, closing her eyes at her lack of tact. “I mean to ask, what do you know of Aretta’s Willow?”

The High One’s cold body turned rigid. His smile vanished, and his grip tightened to a point of pain.

“Guards,” he announced, “please give us a moment.”

The men bowed their heads, faces expressionless as they stepped out onto the balcony, the doors closing behind them with a thud.

“What’s the meaning of this?” the High One asked, his voice chilled and grating.

Sylzenya’s skin pimpled. “My apologies, Your Grace. I’m not broaching this subject as well as I intended, and I know tonight is a busy night?—”

“Yes, it is.”

Sweat building along her neck, she gulped. This—impatience and scrutiny—was an emotion she’d seen far more of from him. She’d hoped to avoid such a reaction, but she knew how to talk to him despite it. He always heard her in the end.

“What my parents did was unprecedented and is causing rumors of upheaval to ripple through the kingdom. I’m ashamed, for it was my family that started this, and so, I mean to fix it.”

The High One’s brows lifted. “Your parents are no trouble of yours. I’m taking care of it.”

“I know that, Your Grace,” she replied, “But their actions impacted not just me, but all of Estea. I fear that when I get my power back, there will still be questions and uncertainty amongst our people about whether the famine will take us. It’s no way to live. I mean to try everything within my power to?—”

“Sylzenya.”

She stopped, her eyes wide as the High One took his arm away from hers, his cold hands gripping her shoulders instead. His harsh yellow gaze studied her face.

“You speak of things a ruler must worry about, and so I am, more than you know.” He paused, a flicker in his jaw. “Your parents proved who they were, who we always knew them to be—delirious, selfish, and hostile. Wasn’t it I who told you these very things?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Sylzenya said, tears burning behind her eyes.

“No child should experience these horrors from their parents.” He placed a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, hiscold fingers brushing her neck. “I should’ve protected you, and I failed. This is my wrong to right, not yours.”

Sylzenya’s breaths shortened, a pull in her chest telling her to flee. She ignored it. She couldn’t run from the topic of her parents anymore.

---