Page 112 of Blooms of Darkness

I smiled, remembering how often my father spoke of knowing my mother was his true love long before she did. They joked about how stubborn she had been, and how terrified she was to admit she loved the king.

I’d grown up envious of their connection. Their love so unyielding it could inspire poetry, songs, and more, and yet now she watched her husband, the man she loved, dying before her eyes. Even knowing her time with him was limited, she still smiled, staring at him as if she couldn’t take her eyes off of him.

“Good morning, Mother.” I kissed her head, rounding the table to my father. I enveloped him with my hug a little harder, a little longer than I normally would have.

“Come, my heart,” my father said, gesturing to the chair beside him. When I sat, he took my hand in his. “Are you all right? I was deterred from being with you after Elisabeth’s death.”

His eyes held unshed tears, my mother not strong enough to hide her own.

“I don’t know if it’ll ever be all right,” I whispered.

“So many times we speak of dying for those we love. We rarely acknowledge you can live for those you love as well,” he said, gripping my hand tightly. “The greatest gift we could give her is to live.”

I hung my head, staring at my lap as his words fell over me. Living for her. Living for her would mean grabbing life and running with it. Not being afraid.

But there was so much to be afraid of right now.

I had more responsibilities, more worries, and more to figure out about our lands and our kingdom, than just simply living a life I might love.

“We’ve dedicated a spot in the garden for her,” my mother said. “The main one. There’s a bench she loved, and we spent many hours sitting there talking throughout the years. We are having the plaque made now.”

I nodded. “I’m sure she’d love that and fuss about it being too much.”

We all laughed, remaining in silence once it died down.

My father coughed again, pulling his hand from mine and grabbing a napkin to bring to his mouth until the fit ended.

“Now,” he said, “we live. Tell us who you may favor coming out of these trials?”

I popped some of the sweet fruit into my mouth. “You, as the king, have better insight than I do, Father. Has anyone stood out to you?”

“Nonsense. I mean the favor of your heart.”

I didn’t correct him. If the trials had been about my heart, we wouldn’t have had them at all, but I didn’t want to argue. Seeing how weak and fragile he appeared, now was not the time nor the place.

“Ian will always have my love,” I said, smiling at him and my mother as they both nodded, as if it wasn’t news. Well, itwasn’tnews.

I hesitated, debating if he asked because he wanted to check on my well-being, or if he was truly curious. What I’d said though rang true, both of my parents had sharp instincts and may help me.

“Casimir is vile,” I said. “He looks down upon lesser Fae, and although I know he’s always been a Lord and it’s how things are, I don’t think it would do anything good for our kingdom having him as King.”

“I agree,” my mother said sternly. “The way he stole Ian’s powers in the obstacles and left everyone to fend for themselves when the razorven appeared. Well, it showed his true character.”

My father shrugged. “That is how the trials go, my dears. We cannot fault any of them for using the powers they were gifted from nature and the Fates themselves,” he said, pausing to take a breath, “but, hearing him speak a few times, has me concerned. His character itself is indeed flawed.”

“Hale isn’t a bad choice,” I said. “I think he’d be loyal and wouldn’t be one to take the crown and rule without me. We have known each other for so long, so it would not be starting from scratch. I think he’d remain loyal, even once he learns I don’t have magic.”

They nodded.

I managed to take a drink of the sweet juice at my place before I continued. “Ryland is fine, but nothing more. I don’t see him as a real contender. I do think he would make a great guard, though. I plan to talk to Ian about it once all of this is over.”

“What about Kade?” my father asked.

I blinked a few times, staring blankly at him. “What about him?”

My mother wasn’t subtle about the grin she poorly hid behind her teacup. I frowned. “Nothing in particular, dear.”

“We don’t know enough about him,” I said, taking another bite of the fruit in front of me.

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