Page 91 of Lady for Embers

“Do you think he’ll tell her?”

“I honestly do not know. Rayner did not share his past with me until I was the sitting royal, and I had known him for decades before that.”

“Let’s be honest. We all waited for Rayner to tell us instead of asking ourselves. None of us were brave enough to do that,” Cyrus said.

“But it all ?ts, right?” Sorin said. “He does not have any actual ?re gifts. He can Travel in a way. His gifts take weeks to re?ll when he uses their full extent like he did to save Tula.”

“You’re thinking if he drank Fae blood, it would feed his gifts? Like I do for Cassius?”

“It all ?ts, Cyrus,” Sorin replied, ?nally spotting Beatrix at the bow of the ship. “And to be honest, a part of me wonders if he has known all along.”

Cyrus seemed to stumble a step at his words. “No. I don’t believe that. I know he’s more aloof than the rest of us, but he wouldn’t keep something that big from us. He wouldn’t.” Cyrus was shaking his head, echoing the ?erce denial ringing in his tone.

But Sorin wasn’t so sure. And it had gotten him thinking: all the Courts had rare gifts that seemed to favor a single bloodline.The Fire Court had Ash Riders. The Wind Court had Wind Walkers. The Water Court had Water Gazers. The Earth Court had Artists.

But what if those gifts were rare because they weren’t Fae gifts at all?

He’d posed the question to Scarlett last night, and all she’d done was give him a small smile that told him she’d been toying with those thoughts for a while now.

Beatrix was standing at the front of the ship, bundled in a cloak. She looked tiny and frail. The Witch was anything but. Sorin had known the female his entire life, and she still looked the same. Witches didn’t have a Staying like the Fae did where they stopped aging, but their aging process slowed way down when they reached maturity. Scarlett had once asked him how old Beatrix was, and Sorin truly did not know.

She turned to face them, sensing their approach. She smiled that smile that reminded him of elderly mortals, her violet eyes warm and bright— a stark contrast to most Witches. He had always imagined Beatrix encompassed what having a mortal grandmother was like.

“Prince,” Beatrix said, reaching for his hands.

Sorin grasped her ?ngers in his palms, bending and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “How are you, Beatrix?”

“Fine, ?ne,” she said, reaching up to pat his cheek. “But you, on the other... Something troubles you, young king.”

“I do have a question or two for you,” Sorin said, straightening.

She nodded knowingly, turning to Cyrus. “And you, Fire Second? Your soul is troubled as well.”

Cyrus stepped forward, bending to press a kiss to her cheek as well. “I will be ?ne, as always, Beatrix,” he replied with a grin.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, eyes narrowing on him. “Someday you will have to face the past you run from.”

“I don’t run from the past. I just choose not to dwell on it,” Cyrus countered, his tone light.

“And yet it dwells in you.”

The smile faded a touch, a muscle feathering along his jaw, and Sorin cleared his throat. “I need to ask you if you know anything about my magic, Beatrix.” Her attention turned back to him, her hands folding inside her cloak. “Since I... came back, my magic has... lessened.”

“How so?” she asked, a grey curl falling forward from beneath the hood of her cloak.

“Whenever I use it, it is as though my power well shrinks a little each time.”

“We sail for a land full of secrets, and yet you ask me a question of something you already know the answer to,” Beatrix replied.

Sorin’s brow furrowed. “Why do you assume I know the answer? I assure you, if I did, I would already be working to rectify it.”

“Do you remember when you were a youngling? You would come to my alchemy room and sit for hours, watching me mix potions and tonics, and asking me all manner of questions,” she said, her gaze going to the sea as she reminisced.

Sorin chuckled lightly. “I do, Beatrix. You were incredibly patient with my incessant curiosity.”

“You were never a bother. I enjoyed the company,” the Witch said, a fond smile appearing on her lips. “But sometimes you would ask questions far beyond your years. Do you remember what my reply would be to those questions?”

He could see it, sitting in Beatrix’s alchemy room. It had always been warm and cozy, several ?res always going. A perk of living in the Fire Court, he supposed. He would perch on a stool, his legs swinging while he watched her toss various ingredients into cauldrons and bottle up tonics for the Court. His father would often send him there when he was getting too unruly. Beatrix would just click her tongue when he would show up at her door, dragging his feet and pouting. She’d set him to work chopping herbs, and soon enough he’d be chattering away while she worked.

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