A Dream of Fate & Flesh (Courts of Malice #2)

9. Keep Me From Harm

nine

Keep Me From Harm

Alessia

T hat pesky blue-winged pixie appears in my line of sight as I traverse the hallway. It flits around my head, twirling so fast I begin to get dizzy. Instinctively, I reach up to swat it away.

“I don’t want any more of Eoin’s flowers,” I mutter.

It doesn’t drop a flower for me today. Instead, it hovers in front of my face.

“Don’t trust the prince,” it squeaks.

“Excuse me?” I stop in my tracks.

“He lies.”

Without another word, it zips off down the hallway behind me. I glance over my shoulder, but it’s already gone. Its words don’t rattle me, considering I already don’t trust Eoin, so I think little of it.

Resuming my walk through the palace, I turn down a side hallway and crash into someone. Their arms fly up to my waist, steadying me. The scent of earthy lemongrass reaches my nose, and I jerk away, recognizing who it is.

“Would you like to come with me to meditate?” Eoin holds out a hand.

I swear my left eye twitches. “Is this one of your mandatory proposals where my presence is required?”

“I’m not forcing you, no. ”

“Then I am going to decline your generous offer,” I say sarcastically.

He shifts his weight uncomfortably, his gold-seamed white button-up looking too stiff. Too starched.

“What will make you happy?” he asks.

“Leaving your court.”

He waves it off. “Other than that, of course.”

“Let me train.” It flies out of my mouth before I can stop it.

“Train?” He frowns. “I don’t fight if that’s what you’re referring to. I have an army for that.”

Perfect. I don’t want to train with him anyway. “Is Viv here?”

“Viveka is not.” Eoin’s mouth hardens. “She’s not coming back.”

“Wait, what?”

“Nothing.” He rubs his temples as if I’m inducing a headache.

“Surely you have someone else I can train with?” It would be a gift to feel that heavy steel in my hands again, my arms shaking from the strength required to wield a blade. I was making such good progress with the shifters at Umbra Court.

“I don’t see that as necessary for you.”

Disappointment swells inside me, but I give him a challenging look. “Rainer let me train.”

Rainer understood me better than I knew myself in some ways, encouraging me to find my strength… to be more .

Eoin scrunches his nose.

A door opens down the hall, and a fae dressed in a white medic tunic pops their head out. “Healer! Perfect timing. I was about to send for you.”

Eoin groans. He gives me a tight-lipped look. “We'll discuss this later.”

Healer ? That’s quite a way to address their prince .

“Hurry,” the medic orders, a look of impatience on his face.

He follows the medic into the room, leaving the door cracked behind him. Their muffled voices carry into the hallway. There’s an edge to the medic’s tone, but I can’t make out their words.

Why is Eoin always getting summoned to the infirmary?

Letting my curiosity get the better of me, I step forward and strain to listen. I push the door open a little wider and peek into the infirmary.

It’s less decorated than the rest of the palace, with white decor and no windows. The wall perpendicular to the door is lined with herbs, tonics, and potions. An abundance of drawers and cupboards sit slack, as if recently rummaged through. Six sterile-looking cots line the far wall. They’re all empty except one. An older, fashionably dressed fae whose ears sparkle with jewels sits perched on the edge.

“—just take it away. Now!” His hand flies up to his forehead theatrically, and he moans. “I can’t bear the pain anymore.”

Eoin’s shoulders are elevated, his body rigid as he stares down at the male. I don’t need to see his face to know he’s not pleased. The medic leaves them, busying himself with the contents of his drawers.

“I can’t take your memories,” Eoin says flatly. “You know this.”

The male drops his hand, giving Eoin an irritated look. “Lies! Marjorie said you mended her broken heart yesterday.”

Eoin sighs. “I eased some of her pains, yes.”

“Then do the same for me,” the male commands. “She’s the one who made me break up with her, after all.”

“I’d rather not. ”

“Are you refusing, healer ?” A few seconds tick by, and the male huffs. He adjusts his lapels and stands, meeting Eoin eye to eye. “It’s the only thing you’re good for.”

“It’s not—”

“No.” The fae rudely puts his hand in Eoin’s face. “The folk are right about you—selfish, good for nothing, weakling .” He shakes his head condescendingly. “What good are you if you can’t even help a fella with the pain? I ought to tell the princess about your reluctance to serve your people—”

“Fine.” Eoin rubs a hand over his face. “No need to bother my sister.”

The male smiles smugly as he perches at the edge of the cot. “Take it all. All the pain and distress. I want nothing left.” His eyes meet mine, and he arches his brows with curiosity. I recoil, moving out of sight as fast as I can.

I move through the hallway, and guilt gnaws at me, twisting my stomach into knots. Perhaps I was too harsh on Eoin. He’s not precisely undeserving of my anger, but seeing that interaction unsettled me.

This whole time, I thought Eoin was healing wounds or injuries, but he’s serving other nobles by taking their emotional pain? Do they all talk to him in such a manner? How have I never noticed how mistreated Eoin was?

Pausing momentarily, I lean against a tree-shaped pillar, seeking solace in its sturdiness. I close my eyes and process what I saw.

They treated Eoin more like a servant than a prince. The sharp contrast between how Rainer’s courtfolk treat him—with respect and adoration—and Eoin’s is staggering. It’s eerily reminiscent of my life as a Tradeling. A surge of sympathy courses through me. I should hate him.

But I can’t.

Taking a deep breath, I stuff down my emotions and straighten my posture.

A few minutes later, I locate the room I’m searching for and duck inside.

My breath hitches as I take in the grand space before me. Made of speckled glass, the domed ceiling stretches stories high. Light filters through, casting soft rainbow prisms around the rows of books. The upper-level balcony railings are adorned with lush ferns and moss, as if nature is reclaiming the space.

I meander through the books, lost in thought, as I run a finger along the spines. The various textures—rough and smooth—bring a chill to my body. As I inhale, I’m immediately transported back to Rainer’s castle—to his mother’s library. My sudden longing for him is so intense that it steals my breath. My body longs to be near him so badly it hurts. The ache is so profound that it leaves me weak, as if my legs might give way.

The yearning for his presence is a testament to the intensity of my emotions. It’s a reminder of our unbreakable connection, despite the distance between us.

Swallowing down the pain, I step closer to the books, desperate to distract myself. I squint at the spines, making out the various titles.

“Pssst,” someone whispers.

I freeze. When I look around, I don’t see anything.

“Pssst, human ,” they repeat, slightly louder this time.

Turning, I scan the aisle again. Something silvery peeks out behind the endcap, catching my eye. “Hello?”

The silver shifts, and a male sidesteps into the aisle. I eye him warily. Ezamae, I believe Eoin said he was called.

The Enchanter.

His footsteps are silent as he glides toward me like a lithe, graceful cat despite his knee-high leather boots. Those metallic eyes catch my breath. They hold a hint of coy intelligence. His mess of pale curls glow like moonlight around his head. He’s in garments befitting a noble, with a cloak of deep indigo trimmed with elaborate silver embroidery that glitters in the light.

“Hello, dearest.” His lips tilt up in a smirk.

I eye him warily. “I know who you are.” If Rainer taught me anything, it’s not to let my fear control me. Instead of eyeing the direction of the exit like instinct says to do, I stare at Ezamae, tilting my chin up an inch. “ What you are.”

He places his palm on his chest and tilts his head at me in a gesture of feigned surprise. “Why, it sounds as if you’re leveling an insult at me.” He moves forward, and those silent footsteps of his unsettle me. “I know what you are, too,” he whispers conspiratorially.

“Everyone knows what I am,” I say.

“It’s quite nice to officially make your acquaintance after hearing the wind whisper your name so often.”

I back up until my spine hits the shelves behind me. Ezamae goes still, studying me. “You fear me.”

“No,” I lie.

“Interesting,” he says, smiling coyly. “I heard you were immune to fear.”

My forehead wrinkles. I shake my head, keeping my eyes locked on him. “You heard incorrectly.”

“Yet you survived the Prince of Fear’s forest and his… company.” His eyes roam me as if searching for something unspoken. “Curious.”

I’m not immune to his power or fear. What a grand misconception. It was a fluke that I survived the woods, but I’m not about to share that.

“What do you want?” I feel behind me for a book—something—to use as a weapon if he steps any closer. When my fingers brush one with a thick spine, I tug it free from the shelf and whip it between me and Ezamae in warning.

His gaze flicks down, and a full smile appears on his thin lips. “Are you intending to throw that at me?”

“If you come closer, yes.”

“Dearest, I mean you no harm.” He laughs again. “You are a peculiar creature, indeed. Perhaps it makes little difference to you, but I am not a fighter. I’m a lover.” He winks.

“If you try to use your dirty magic on me—”

He throws his head back, and his laughter grows, drowning out my words and echoing through the library. “I shall not seduce you. You have my word.”

“I don’t trust a single word out of a faerie’s mouth.” I take a subtle step to the left.

He shrugs. “You don’t need to take my word for it. The Terra Prince seems to have a… protective ward shielding you.” His smile turns roguish as he scratches a brow. “I admit, I already tried to entice you—and failed.”

A mix of annoyance and relief swarm through me. I grip the book tighter in warning, ready to whack him with it if he comes too close.

“What do you want?” I repeat.

“I hear whispers in the wind. Tales of a timid female from Dovenak winning the heart of a cruel prince and surviving his lethal magic.”

“I don’t do riddles.”

“And I don’t typically intervene in other court affairs.” He straightens, adjusting the sleeves of his fitted silk shirt. “However, the wind carries other secrets…”

Another pair of footsteps echoes through the library.

Ezamae sighs, glancing over his shoulder. “Sennah,” he mutters. “I’d rather not speak to that audacious female.” He gives me one last long look and whispers, “As the wind calls to me, the spirits call to you.”

In a single breath, he disappears into a faint, shimmering fog. I blink a few times as the haze dissipates.

Sennah steps into view and pads down the aisle toward me, her chin inclined and annoyance pinching her features. “Was that Ezamae’s voice I heard?”

“Yeah,” I say, dazed. “He’s… interesting.”

Her eyes narrow. “Do tell, why were you entertaining the Prince of Pleasure alone in the library’s shadows?”

My eyes widen, and I have half a mind to be sarcastic and point out that the library is reasonably well-lit.

“You seem to have a thing for attracting fae princes,” she says.

I suppress a groan, masking my disdain. “He’s a real prince, too?”

She eyes me, then waves a hand toward me. “Yes. There are quite a few royals here for Prosperity celebrations.”

That’s right. Sera mentioned something about Eoin hosting the court folk and nobles.

“Perfect little prey for those mischievous princes,” Sennah says. “It’s that human naivety and air of innocence. They enjoy having a new toy around.”

I grit my teeth at how she puts it, hating that I feel like I’m the lord’s dolly all over again. “I don’t know what he wanted.”

She sighs, focusing on the bookshelf and gently running her fingers over the spines. “The Aer Prince can’t use his magic on you. Eoin had me place a protective ward around you, but you should still be careful. My magic only extends so far for so long.”

I flush as I remember Sera’s words about the Aer Prince and his power yesterday. But it quickly dissipates as it’s replaced with the pixie’s warning: Don’t trust him. The prince lies.

Were they referring to Eoin or Ezamae?

I want to ask Sennah what Ezamae might’ve meant—the talk about the wind and the spirits. But I’m not sure I can trust her. I’m not sure I can trust anyone.

Instead, I ask, “A ward? Why?”

“Because of the excess of visitors for Prosperity, of course. My brother might be pesky, but he doesn’t want you… injured or influenced.”

I nearly roll my eyes at that last bit—apparently, he’s the only one allowed to influence me—but I don’t because the guilt from earlier lingers.

“Should I be concerned about the upcoming events?”

She laughs. “Not with my wards.” I must be making a face because she chuckles again. “Think of it like an invisible air bubble guarding you from meddling fae. Perks of elemental magic.” She flips her hair over her shoulder gracefully and gives me a smirk. “The Aer Prince may be stronger with the element of air specifically—windwalking, hearing secrets from afar—but I can call upon and mold multiple elements.”

“I thought he was an enchanter,” I say flatly.

“Stronger fae, usually royals from strengthened bloodlines, have multiple… abilities. Ez does, and he’s quite powerful.”

“Is that why you have multiple elements?”

She gives me a sly smile. “Precisely! Earth is my primary magic, but the other three elements are secondary magic from the Caves.”

My forehead scrunches with confusion. “You’re not born with your magic?”

“I forget how… new you are here.” Cocking her head, she gives me a pitying look. “We are born with it. Mostly. It’s gifted from our ancestors and the court’s land. But High Fae and Royal Fae visit a place called the Cave of Reflection—it’s in the Altum Mountain Range. It’s an opportunity to earn additional power, in a way.”

“Oh,” I say, processing. “What do you have to do for it?”

She grins. “It’s personal for each fae.” The smile melts from her face, and she steps forward, leaning closer. “I’d recommend not asking Eoin about his secondary powers, though… it’s a bit of a tender topic for him.”

I tilt my head, contemplating why.

Sennah gently pats my arm. “He failed his trials. ”

The guilt in my chest intensifies like a bolder weighing me down. “Healing is his only power, then?”

She nods. “We went with Rainer when we were younger. He was the only one denied.” She bites her lip, a look of sorrow overcoming her expression. “He didn’t handle it well.”

After hearing the words thrown at Eoin in the infirmary, they have an even more substantial impact. Not only was Eoin denied additional magic, but he’s used carelessly for the only power he has.

Maybe that’s why he hates Rainer—envy.

Sennah turns to the bookshelf, studying the various titles. “Ezamae’s primary is wind manipulation in many forms. Enchanting is his secondary—it works in tandem with his air powers, heightening their effect greatly.”

“And Rainer’s?”

“You know his already. His bloodlust is his primary—”

Glancing around nervously, I lower my voice to a whisper. “ That ’ s considered an ability?”

She chuckles, waving her hand in the air. “There’s an air bubble around us, muting our voices. You can speak freely.”

I repeat my question. “How is bloodlust an ability?”

“When he drinks blood, his senses are heightened beyond typical fae’s. He’s strong , Alessia, terrifyingly strong.” She frowns. “Although he doesn’t lean into that side of his power. He tries to pretend it doesn’t exist.”

“So, fearcalling is his secondary?”

Sennah nods. “We didn’t know about Rainer’s vampyrism then. We thought he had no power until we visited the Cave… ”

My heart squeezes for Rainer, knowing the story of his parents and how his power manifested. No wonder his mother took such a gamble. She likely thought that her power would manifest as his primary.

Clearing my throat, I turn the conversation back to its origins. “If the Aer Prince is so powerful, what does he want with me ?”

She laughs. “He’s a gossip who fancies theatrics. His favorite form of entertainment is meddling in the affairs of others.” She reaches for a book, pulling it off the shelf and fingering the cover, keeping her attention focused on it as she speaks. “A naive human is a bored faerie’s favorite plaything.”

“Great,” I mumble. The Aer Prince told me the opposite.

“You’re the point of contention between two powerful faerie princes, and it draws eyes.” There’s a hint of warning in her tone, but before I can decipher it, she turns and leaves, her curvy, graceful frame practically floating away.

Despite the cautions from the pixie and Sennah, I can’t shake Ezamae’s cryptic words. Perhaps I shall seek out the Aer Prince during the Prosperity Ball and find out what he meant earlier.

The protective wards should be enough to keep me from harm.