My jaw dropped. “What are you talking about? The queen doesn’t have black hair.”
“She does actually,” Nuwin insisted. “Her hair is hidden under an illusion to make it appear silver. She’s lived that way her entire life. Most in the continent have no idea of her true hair color.”
My jaw dropped so completely I was surprised it wasn’t on the floor. The queen has black hair? Truly?
But despite that unbelievable revelation, I inched away from him, from both of them, since I didn’t like the intent way the crown prince was staring at me or the wonder in Nuwin’s eyes. Despite the queen’s hair color, they were wrong about me. Totally and completely delusional. I was magicless, wingless, and defective. I didn’t have power, and I certainly couldn’t create orem and save the continent. Whatever that even meant.
I rubbed my hands up and down my upper arms. “Why do you think I have magic?”
The prince spread his arms wide. “This is why. I suspected you might when I saw you working in your garden at your home, and—”
“You saw me in my garden?”
He nodded.
“When?”
“A few days before I took you.”
My eyebrows shot up when I recalled a moment in my garden, after Vorl had attacked me, when it felt as if I was being watched. That had been real? The prince had been the cause of that feeling?
My eyes narrowed to slits as I put my hands on my hips. “You were spying on me?”
The Death Master shrugged, and I was itching to tell him that made him a total creep.
“I had to know. Your garden was the most abundant, vivid, bright, and flourishing patch of land that I’d encountered during my entire span of the continent. I didn’t think it was possible anymore to grow plants like that. With the orem diminishing and the crops dying, I no longer thought such life could be sustained in our climate.”
My entire body grew rigid, especially after hearing those fae females gossiping in Firlim’s market all those weeks ago, seeing the prince’s reaction to that gossip when we’d been in High Liss, and then hearing the rumblings of concern that had been whispering through the castle during the past month. “So it’s true? It’s actually been confirmed that our orem’s dying?”
Nuwin and the crown prince shared a veiled look.
“You might as well tell her,” Nuwin said. “Word’s getting out more and more. We’ve had several incidences since you left. If she’s to help us fix this problem, she should know.”
“You’re right.” The prince took a deep breath before addressing me. “It’s true. Entire territories’ crop lands have died out completely.”
My heart beat harder, thundering louder and louder with each breath I took. The orem was dying. Crops were withering. Solis fae were going to starve to death.
All this time . . . Tormesh had been right.
My eyes squeezed shut when I remembered my brother returning last summer after his march with the Solis Guard. He’d voiced the same concern, saying something was wrong with our land. It hadn’t been as bad then. He hadn’t said entire territories’ crops were dead, but he’d grown up in a laboring family. He knew what healthy crops should look like, and he’d suspected that something was amiss.
Opening my eyes, I curled my fingers into my palms. “Why don’t more fae know of this? Why is it being hushed?”
The prince and his brother shared another look.
“It’s a delicate situation,” Nuwin finally replied.
But my attention didn’t leave the crown prince. He held my stare, unflinching, but then his eye twitched slightly, as though he could feel the rage that was burning through me.
Gritting my teeth, I bit out, “Yet you now think that I can create orem, and therefore, I can solve the problem of our continent’s dying crops?”
The prince’s expression was impossible to read as he gave a barely perceptible nod.
I scoffed. “How ironic. My own brother came to this court a full season ago, feeling it was his duty to ensure the court knew of the dire situation of our continent’s food source, and do you know what was done to him for it?”
The prince stilled.
“He was murdered.” I took a step closer to the crown prince as my face twisted into something ugly. I could feel it, growing and thriving in my expression. All of my anger, hurt, betrayal, lost hope, and aching sadness morphed my face until I was no longer Ilara Seary, daughter of Mervalee Territory. No. I’d turned into a creature consumed with wrath and hatred, of betrayal and retribution.
My lips peeled back as I pointed an accusing finger at him. “You murdered my brother. You killed him when he came here, asking for the court’s help. And why? To apparently stop him from talking. And do you know what you then did?” Tears pricked my eyes as I glared up at the Death Master.
He didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.
“You murdered my parents next. They came here, in my brother’s name, wanting to know why he’d been killed for voicing his concerns, and do you know what you did to them? You murdered them too.” A shrill laugh escaped me. “So imagine my surprise now at the irony of all of this. You killed my family, and in return, you want me to save you. And what if I say no, Prince Norivun? What if I refuse the great crown prince of the Court of Winter? Will you kill me too?”
The prince continued to stare at me. Unmoving. Maybe not even breathing.
Nuwin stepped forward. “Nori, maybe we should—”
But the prince raised a hand. “No, I want to hear her accusations. I want to hear her condemnation for everything that I am. Let her get it all out now and be done with it, because at the end of the day, she’ll still do as I say.”
My hand shot out so fast that I didn’t even know I was going to strike him until my palm met his cheek. A great ringing slap reverberated through the courtyard as the prince’s head whipped to the side.
“No, I won’t.” I seethed. “I refuse to help you or your damned court or anyone else in this castle. I don’t have magic. I can’t create orem, and you’re nothing but a fool and a murderer.”
I turned my back on him, and neither he nor his brother tried to stop me when I stalked back into my chambers and slammed the door behind me, yet I could have sworn that when the door shuddered, it wasn’t just from the strength of my swing.
It also felt as though the Bringer of Darkness was rumbling the entire castle.
I locked myself in the bathing room.
And as the minutes ticked by and nobody came to the door, or murdered me through the window, or called for me to come out, I eventually came to the conclusion that they’d both left.
I stayed where I was though. My entire body was shaking, so I sat on the cold stone floor, wrapped my arms around my knees, and rocked back and forth.
The crown prince believed that I had magic. Magic strong enough to create orem. And he wanted to use my supposed magic to heal our land.
My brother had been right all along. Our land was dying. The crops really were withering, and we would all starve unless something was done to make our crops thrive again.
But how could that answer possibly be me? I didn’t have magic. I didn’t have wings. I was defective, wingless, magicless . . . And nobody could create orem. That came from the gods and was only replenished by our universe’s celestial events. The gods decided those fates too. Not me.