Heir of Stardust and Secrets (Mythic Spark #1)

19. One Who Believes

Chapter 19

One Who Believes

T he clarity I’d had with the flower proved to be fleeting. My raw magic continued to be capricious and dangerously intense, like a wild stallion resisting any attempts to be reined in, lest it be tamed. While I hadn’t succeeded in tempering it, being bucked off was no longer a life-threatening endeavor—which was a small mercy, I supposed.

When I wasn’t losing control of my power, I was entirely miscasting spells. Spellcraft made me nauseous, if not outright sick. Between the two, my body was taxed, and a deep, throbbing ache was now my constant companion, but I was making progress.

I learned to see our sessions like the training I’d begun many moons ago—only instead of daggers, it was different forms of magic. Somehow, it lessened the pain to pretend it was only sore muscles that plagued me.

Outside of training, I was engrossed in studying the king’s trove of spells. Occasionally, to his silent displeasure, I’d cast a spell amid the small library or on my bed, where I’d taken to reading, somehow managing to catch a chair on fire and shatter a few more windows. Upon witnessing the aftermath, Tarrin would invariably shake his head in amusement and suppress a laugh as he grinned at me. My eyes were always doing the heavy lifting of an apology to the king as I offered him a bashful smile. We all knew admonishing me would have little effect against the stronghold my obsession had over me.

Tucked in with a tome in hand, my gaze drifted away from it, its weight heavy in my lap as the darkening gardens outside my chamber windows gave way to my daydreams—as was often the case when evening fell and I was left to my own devices.

A tiny ember floated in the air, twirling lazily at the whim of my restless fingers. I wasn’t sure when conjuring that spark with a snap had gone from impossible to commonplace—funny how fast one adjusted when faced with no other alternative.

“Nyleeria?”

The delicate ember sputtered out as I jumped up and twirled to see the king within a few paces of me.

“Sorry,” he said. “I knocked, and your door was ajar. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I managed, even as his presence seemed to charge the air of my room; he’d never crossed the threshold before. I’d been closer to him before, was touched by him even, but this felt different. His being in my chamber, within proximity of my bed, created a sense of intimacy that I wasn’t prepared for.

“I came to see if you’d like to join me for an evening stroll?” His words were tentative, unsure.

“Sure,” I said, mouth dry. I offered a small smile and stepped past him to grab the light sweater Ava had left out for me.

The evening was calm as the last of the light tucked itself away. We wandered the grounds, my arm threaded through his. We’d become accustomed to each other’s quiet companionship in this new routine of ours, but there was something taut about the silence between us tonight.

Withdrawing my arm, I turned to face him.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“You know, Nyleeria, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear your superpower was reading people,” he said, clearly deflecting as he gave me one of his disarming smiles.

I crossed my arms, unrelenting.

He huffed a sigh. “I’ve been debating whether to ask you or not.”

“Ask me what?” I said, shifting my weight.

“Summer solstice is fast-approaching.” I froze. Had an entire season already passed? “The fae are a folk deep-rooted in heritage and tradition. One such custom is paying homage to the Mother during the equinoxes and solstices by ushering their court’s namesake in with a grand celebration. As is tradition, the Summer Court will open its doors on solstice eve, marking the longest day of the year, when spring gives way. That evening welcomes all to revel in the Summer Court’s Mother-given glory, as their land’s power, and thus theirs, will be at its apex during the crossover.”

I blinked at him, confused as to why he was telling me this.

“The high lords of all courts, their equivalent of kings, are invited to the event. As is the monarch of the human realm,” he said, seeming to hedge the last part.

“You’re invited to a fae gathering?”

“Yes, well, it’s been a tradition going back many generations. I’ve only attended once as a child, not as a king, and with fae immortality, we couldn’t risk them noticing I never age. We’ve been waiting until we found the spark before attending, but after five centuries, I’ve finally accepted their invitation.”

“But won’t it raise suspicions after not attending for so long?”

“Perhaps, but we’ve planned for this moment for longer than I can remember. It’s a fine balance of pretending we don’t know about the war and somehow having knowledge about their existence. They know that if the veil had worked and was still working, then I should have no knowledge of the fae, and a part of me believes they continue to invite us to make sure our belief in them, in magic, remains contained.”

I nodded in acknowledgment.

“Our backstory,” he continued, “is that I came across a tome as a boy, young enough that a veil of any sort couldn’t dampen my mind from wandering into the realms of imagination and magic. My father, the monarch, didn’t believe in such things himself, but he never stopped his son from dreaming. Then, the first year I was king, I received an invitation. My tether to belief was the only thing that allowed me to receive and accept their most gracious offer. So, it will be a dreamer who comes to visit them this year. I’m sure their curiosity in me, the first king in over five hundred years to join their celebration, will be as big as ours in them.”

“What if it’s a trap, a way to eliminate any human who knows about them?”

“It’s possible, but I don’t think so. They were threatened by my family’s spellcraft abilities, not our belief in magic. And remember, generations before me sat with the fae and drank with them as friends.”

“And you’re telling me this because…You want me to go with you,” I said, unsure of how I felt about the prospect.

“Yes.” He grasped my hand. “Nevander, Tarrin, and I will go, but I think it’s important for you to come too. For you to meet our enemies, see what you can sense, and bring a woman’s touch. The hope is that you keep them occupied by just being you, while the three of us gather as much intelligence as we can without raising suspicion. You’d be expected to dance with the high lords and most likely some of their entourage, which gives you intimate access to each of them that we simply can’t get as men.”

I chuckled at the implication.

“What?” He tilted his head as if trying to read my thoughts.

“Well, I’ve never had to wield my femininity before.”

The king’s eyes bore into mine as he assessed me for a moment, then said, “Trust me when I say you wield femininity with your every breath, Nyleeria.”

A warm blush painted my cheeks, and I wondered if he’d still hold that belief if he ever witnessed me with a blade, gutting and prepping the dinner I’d just caught .

I stared back at him and asked, “What do you need me to do?”

Training morphed into preparation for our impending visit to the Summer Court. While I craved knowledge on the fae, more specifically the high lords, any information we had was most likely outdated and wouldn’t serve me. Instead, we focused on making sure our backstory was ironclad.

The king insisted on dance lessons, which I’d grown to enjoy. It hadn’t taken long for me to learn, as footwork was nothing new to me—for what was the footwork of one who wields a weapon but a dance of survival and grit? The difference, of course, was that I was to yield to my partner in this dance, to trust his strong grip and silent signals to move and sway as one.

My evenings with the tomes were replaced by standing on a makeshift pedestal being measured and pinned into Alejandro’s latest creation. The seamster was by far the most self-assured person I’d ever encountered. Not just outwardly confident but secure in who he was through and through, like a male peacock displaying his plumage loud and proud for all to marvel at. I wasn’t sure anyone could escape his infectious optimism and larger-than-life personality, which seemed to fill my chamber to the brim when he entered and left a void in his wake.

His garments were plucked from a dream. Sleek and bold. Sexy yet feminine. He’d combined these opposing elements with such grace that they were somehow complementary in their contradictory qualities. He’d informed me that the designs were inspired by fae fashions, but, in his words, with a twist, darling, we have to make sure we represent.

I learned the king had personally worked with Alejandro to adapt his preliminary sketches weeks before I’d agreed. Even Ava, the maidservant, was in on it, giving them an approximation of my measurements to work from .

One evening, as Alejandro was trying his best to make sure I wasn’t his own personal pincushion, I questioned why so many garments were necessary for a soiree. He almost choked on the pins poised in his mouth in indignation before saying, “Girl, you think I’d go through this much trouble for a single evening? Child, please. I’m outfitting you for the whole five days you’ll be there, and then some, just in case.”

Pinned and all, I stormed straight to the study and exchanged words with the king about just how pleased I was to find out we’d be staying there for damn near a week. We’ve already accepted was his only defense. I made a concerted effort to avoid his company and not so much as hear his voice over the next couple of days.

In one of my lessons, I was informed that Ava wouldn’t be allowed to join us at the Summer Court. They’d supply their own handmaiden to attend to me. It was nonnegotiable, although I tried. Evidently, this had always been the case, and the king’s forefathers believed the fae insisted on providing their own staff to ensure they’d have eyes and ears everywhere.

I appreciated just how dangerous a game we were about to partake in, and understood then that the girl from the cabin would have to be born anew and don a mask to survive.