Page 39 of Queen of the Night
I’ll take it.
My thoughts drift back to my perusal and judgment of his person—which doesn’t help. If anything, it proves my entire picture wrong, reminds me how attractive and likeable he is, and leaves me confused, as if I’m picking up pieces of a puzzle that simply cannot be completed. No matter how I try to twist it, Ikar doesn’t fit who I envisioned the king was. And it scares me. Even with the magic firmly in my grasp I feel the tug, the way ityearnsfor him, and I realize with deepening sorrow that now not only is it my heart that’s broken, but my magic will be too… because one day, Iwillrun. Iwillfix the mistakes I’ve made. Iwillget a new bracelet and commit to being a better Tulip, and one day, Iwillbe safe and hidden again. Brokenhearted, but safe—a trade I’ll attempt to convince myself is best. There will be no bridging of magic between me and this king.
The thought seems to trigger my magic to rebel, pushing at its bounds, and snapping me from my thoughts with a frown. I clutch my magic tight, frustrated that it’s misbehaving as badly as my bird. How exactly am I to keep track ofboth? The initial wonder has worn off, and reality is beginning to hit like one too many cups of a shady fae drink, and a sordid mixture of feelings rise to the surface. In a moment where I expected to feel empowered and independent, I feel like an animal who just stepped in a hunter’s trap.
Now the true danger begins.
Chapter 25
Ikar
Iwork to bind my wildly misbehaving magic up within me, careful to mask any surprise on my face so Vera doesn’t notice. I’ve never had difficulty controlling my magic, but as soon as I handed Vera that bracelet last night, it felt like the once-continuous and dependable rope of lucent within me began to unravel. It’s as if my magic snapped.Broke.It moves in a foreign rhythm through my veins, which is concerning in and of itself, but to make matters worse, it’s acting more than eager to reach out of its own accord towardVera. I don’t know what to call it or how to describe it, but it’s not normal. At this point, I can’t tell if it’s me or my magic that wants her more, and neither one can have her.
My first thought was that this is what Jethonan meant when he said my magic would draw toward a Tulip, but that thought was quickly extinguished. To know that my magic is drawing toward Vera is like rubbing salt in an open wound. I know she’s not a Tulip, and I know I can never be with her, which means something is horribly wrong.
I enjoyed a slight reprieve from my magic’s pull while filling water a short trek away before we continue our journey this morning, but as soon as I walk back into camp, Vera turns quickly—as if I’ve startled her. And worse, I catch a hint of wariness in her eyes as she waits for me to pass before falling into step behind me. Is it still because she fears me, or does that mean she felt it too? I nearly groan as I rub a hand along the back of my neck and shake my head, frustrated. Just what I need when she’s barely had time to accept the fact that I’m high king.
Now what? She feels some sort of odd magic from me bombarding her? I feel like a complete creep. I wind the wayward magic up tight again, unsure what exactly I’m supposed to do with it to keep it away from her—I have to find a way to control it better. And as soon as we find Darvy I intend to ask him about it; maybe he can even heal it. I’m left wondering if the velvet widow venom or something else in this long-forgotten forest broke it. No matter the cause, I know my magic needs to be working properly to recognize a Tulip when I find one, and if my magic is lunging at every woman I come into contact with, it’ll be impossible to find who I’m looking for. Besides, I imagine it’ll create all sorts of offense toward ladies at court when I return.
I clench my teeth—just one more thing to make this mission of finding a flower and a Black Tulip to bridge with even more difficult.
Rupi settles on my shoulder, seeming extra chipper this morning despite the heat that scorches us from above. Still, she puffs her tiny chest up and trills birdsong, that, on another day, I might appreciate. Instead my thoughts wander back to last night. The look of stark fear in Vera’s eyes when I handed herthe bracelet is like a knife in my gut. Her anger, her stubbornness… I can handle that, but to have her fear me?
I run a hand through my hair in frustration. I’d thought we trusted each other at the start of this journey, that we were friends, of a sort. But she fears me now that she knows I’m high king more than she did when she thought I was a violent Class A criminal, and now that my magic is after her, it’s going to make it even worse. Still, there are things about her that simply don’t make sense. In fact, not much makes sense when it comes to Vera. She supposedly has healing magicandorigination magic, which I’ve never heard of before. She refuses to dress as the other originators, preferring darker colors over bright white. And her fear of me as king? I don’t know where to start with that since she refuses to discuss it.
She’s tantalizing, and I can’t resist trying to figure her out. I should just let her be mysterious, do her job, pay her, and send her on her way. That’s what my ever-practical self recommends. But something about her draws me, and she has parts of me wrapped up so tightly in her grasp that I quite simply don’t want to be just friends oracquaintances,as she so aptly calls us. Just thinking of those words on her lips has my jaw clenching again. In the end, though, there’s nothing for us. I work on feeling grateful for my wayward, broken magic forcing me to keep my distance, even if it does leave me feeling like an unseemly cad in the meantime.
The thought reminds me that I should clear the air about the… magic issue. I cringe just thinking about it. I know I need to speak with Vera. I can’t tell if the looks she gives me are based on her dislike of me as the king still, or because my magic is broken and she can sense it—maybe it’s both. I can’t do a thing about either, but I can at least explain that I’m nottryingto make her uncomfortable. I’d rather lead the front lines of my army into battle against a horde of shard beasts than broach this topic with her, but I need to ensure this mission succeeds, and we have a better chance if I clear the tension-filled air between us. No matter if I feel ready, I’ll speak to her tonight.
Chapter 26
Nadiette
“You must try harder.” I walk through the groups of originators struggling to pull lucent. “The soldiers you’re assigned to depend on your strength, your magic.”
Sweat marks the white uniforms beneath their arms and down their backs at the effort to keep up a sufficient amount of magic—until suddenly, the lucent is gone. The orbs of light snuff out in their palms, leaving every originator grasping at nothing. Several faint, falling to the floor amidst shouts. I frown with concern as healers rush across the floor to help those who have collapsed. I look down at my palm, void of any lucent though I try to pull it. Lucent has been weak for years, but nevergone.
“Nadiette.”
I lift my head to find Tryn waving me over to the side of the room.
After ensuring no one has been seriously injured, I smooth out nonexistent creases along my close-fitting white breechesand paste a smile on my face that hides the concern for my originators.
“We are finished today. Take the afternoon off to rest. We’ll begin again tomorrow,” I say before I take my leave and meet Tryn in the shadows of the hallway she drags me into.
“Renton is here to speak with you,” she whispers. The worry in her eyes fills me with annoyance. She gives the man too much credit.
“He’s a simple mercenary, Tryn. You’ve battled far greater thanhim,” I chastise as we walk down the hall and turn a corner, where I see him leaning against the stone wall, one boot crossed over the other.
“Good day, Renton,” I say as we approach, ignoring the chill draft that suddenly wafts down the hall.
I notice he’s dressed in costly buckskin breeches, soft leather boots, and a jacket that would rival the quality of any of Ikar’s. He stands and bows low, then rises with a grin so handsome I find my smile wavers. This impeccably dressed man is much different than most mercenaries I’ve encountered, but I chastise myself just as I did Tryn.
He’s just a mercenary.
If anything, it proves he’s worthy of the job he’s been given, doesn’t it? He appears more than capable and has the confidence to match.
The air around us cools drastically, and I resist rubbing my arms to warm them; it’s odd for the castle to be so chill on such a warm day, but I shake off the distracting thoughts. Focus is necessary around a man like Renton.
