Court of Winter (Fae of Snow & Ice, #1)(33)

I frowned. “I don’t understand. Where are the crops?”

The prince’s arms tightened around me. When I glanced up, searching his face for answers, he simply nodded ahead. “Do you see Solisarium?”

I shifted my attention forward, searching for the capital but not really knowing what to expect. All I knew of the great city was that it resided within Prinavee Territory, which was our continent’s only landlocked territory, and that over a million fae called it home.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Look closer.”

I squinted, then caught the flash of something bright shining above the snow, then another twinkle, and another. Glistening droplets of frosted glass, bricks of snow, and twisted white metal grew larger the more the prince’s wings carried us.

The castle.

It stood highest in Solisarium, and I was able to see more fragments of its architecture with every millee that passed.

My heart beat harder as more and more details of the sprawling city emerged. The outer edges were mostly homes and small shops, barely discernible from the ground, but inward, the buildings grew taller and the architecture more extravagant. I’d never dreamed that I’d actually see any of this, had never even thought to imagine it since where I came from, the most a fairy could hope for was to work in Firlim if one managed to avoid laboring in the fields. But nobody in my village ever went to university, not even the closest one in Elsberda, which was only a two hours’ flight away, let alone the prestigious Academy of Solisarium in the capital. It just wasn’t done. Nobody could afford that.

And knowing that my dreams for the life I would one day lead were vastly limited, I’d never considered the possibilities outside of Mervalee. It’d been too painful, too final to know that any dreams larger than my village would be squashed before they’d begun.

Yet now I was seeing Solisarium, even though it wasn’t under any circumstances I’d ever hoped for.

“Why do you look sad?”

The prince’s question startled me so much that my grip slipped from around his neck. Of course, it didn’t matter. He simply tightened his hold on me.

“I’m not sad. I’m fine.”

He rolled his eyes, the movement so unlike him that some of the lingering pain from a life I’d never be able to lead faded away.

“Anyone with eyes can see that you’re sad.”

Not liking that he’d caught me in a moment of weakness, I scowled. “Don’t you mean anybody with the ability to empathize is able to see that I’m sad?” His forehead scrunched together, so I added, “Fae without empathy don’t sense emotions in others. They’re not able to pick up on subtle body language.”

“So you’re saying I have empathy?”

I started. “No, um . . . no, that’s not what I meant. I just meant that not everyone with eyes would be able to see that. I’m saying that you’re wrong.”

“So that definitely sounds like you’re saying I have empathy, which would imply that I’m right.”

Flustered, I wondered how I’d trapped myself in a corner, then realized it was because I’d felt vulnerable so therefore got defensive and started blubbering.

“Hardly,” I finished lamely.

“Then what did you mean?”

“I meant that—” I paused. Dammit. What did I mean? Because if the prince had just picked up on the wave of sadness that had rolled through me, and he’d cared enough to ask about it, did that mean he did have empathy? The Bringer of Darkness, the fairy who wreaked destruction on our land, actually had some kind of heart?

He chuckled. “And now you look angry again. That’s an emotion I’ve grown quite used to seeing on you.”

“What makes you think I’m angry now?”

“You get a little line between your eyes, and your lips thin in the slightest way when you’re upset.”

My eyes widened. He wasn’t wrong. Cailis had told me the same thing.

I shifted in his arms, not liking where this conversation was going, mainly because it was forcing me to concede that the prince, in whatever capacity, did have empathy within him, even if it was in minuscule proportions.

Blessed Mother. I’d actually just accepted that.

“So are you going to tell me why you were sad a moment ago?”

I unclasped my arms completely from around his neck and crossed my arms over my chest. “Fine. I’ll tell you. I was thinking about how I’d never in my life thought I’d see the capital.”

He frowned. “And that made you sad?”

“Yes, it did.”

“Why?”

I rolled my eyes and then said sweetly, “Do you always ask this many asinine questions, my prince?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Is that sarcasm I detect in your tone?”

“Me?” I batted my eyelashes innocently. “I would never.”

He shook his head, but a hint of amusement rolled across his features. “So seeing the capital, after not thinking that would be possible, has made you sad. I have to say, of all of the emotions I’d expect a fairy to feel at seeing the richness of our great continent, sadness would have been the last one.”

“Then perhaps you’re not as empathetic as you thought.”

“Or perhaps there’s more to your story that you’re not telling me.”