AllFreeNovel
Share Us
When it finally hit her, it was like a wave of icy tendrils snaking over her skin, clawing at her being. But just as quickly as it came, it was gone, leaving her unharmed. Anthea sagged in relief, taking a deep, shaky breath to steady herself.
Aegonar, observing from his vantage point by the window, crossed his arms over his chest. “What did you feel?” he asked, his tone surprisingly warm. It had taken some time and a lot of groveling, and biting her tongue from her part for the elder prince to address her civilly again.
She cleared her throat, striving to keep her voice steady. “Cold, like . . . like being submerged in a winter stream. Then—nothing.” She glanced at Endreth. The younger prince seemed exhausted. His face was paler than usual, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead as he collapsed onto the dark brown armchair behind him. “Are you alright?” Anthea asked hesitantly. Her question seemed to catch both princes off guard. Aegonar raised his eyebrows and Endreth lifted his eyes to meet hers, his face weary but curious.
“I am fine,” he said, though his voice held a hint of strain. “Casting such spells—it takes a toll.”
She nodded, her brows furrowing slightly. She dragged her eyes from Endreth to Aegonar, her hands playing with the sleeve of her brown dress. She had noticed it before—the toll on Endreth after casting such spells. What made her wonder was that she had not seen the same affects on Aegonar. Seeing the Crimson heir’s watchful gaze on her, she hesitated for a moment, not wanting to anger him again. But there was something, a flicker of intrigue perhaps in these green orbs, that made her reconsider and encouraged her to speak her thoughts.
“Why do these spells seem to affect Endreth more than you?”
It was Endreth who answered her. “Aegonar,” he said, “has a natural talent for magic that I lack?—”
“Different spells suit different magic users,” Aegonar said, cutting his brother off before he could continue, his gaze fixed on her. “These dark spells . . . they are not in Endreth’s nature,” he added, leaning off the wall to stand straight.
“So,” Anthea chose her words carefully. “You’re not as exhausted after casting these spells because they come naturally to you . . .” The question ended more as a statement, and she trailed off as she noticed the sudden intensity in the heir’s eyes—but she couldn’t help herself. “Is it genetic?” she added quickly.
“Genetic?” Endreth asked from the chair, his brows furrowed, the unfamiliar term rolling off his tongue with uncertainty.
Anthea nodded. “Yes, genetic. Like, um, inherited from your parents. Traits or characteristics that are passed down through generations . . . like hair color or . . . or talent for magic for example?”
“Our grandmother . . .” Endreth looked at Aegonar. “She was a potent mage, with a particular affinity for these darker spells. Originating from the Obsidian court, you see,” he gestured with his hand to Anthea, as if he was sharing a common knowledge. “The darkness was as much a part of her as her blood. It seems that trait has reappeared in Aegonar. In that way, I suppose it could be genetic.” The term fell from his lips with much more familiarity this time, and she found herself nodding, intrigued. She glanced between the two brothers, lingering a moment longer on Aegonar, who had taken a seat on the armchair next to the window when Endreth had talked?—
“The Obsidian court? What makes them different?”
The heir leaned forward, “The elves in the Obsidian court are the most potent magic users in all the realm. Their blood runs dark with power, and they do not shirk from using it. Where others would fear to tread, they delve willingly—blood magic is their domain.” His voice was calm, but his eyes held a storm of emotion Anthea couldn’t decipher. Something akin to respect, perhaps. Or fear. Or was it hate. It was so hard to tell.
Hesitantly, she shifted to take a seat as well, choosing the chair next to Endreth. The older prince seemed to be in a rare sharing mood, and she wasn’t going to waste this opportunity.
“Your grandmother, is she . . .” Anthea’s voice trailed off, the question hanging in the air.
“No,” Aegonar responded, green eyes ablaze. “She is not among us anymore.”
A heavy silence fell over them at his words. She chewed on her bottom lip, wondering if she had pushed too much, too soon. She turned to Endreth, finding his blue eyes on her?—
“And your mother?”
Endreth’s voice was softer than she’d ever heard it as he responded. “She’s also passed.” A quick glance passed between the two brothers—subtle, almost imperceptible, but she didn’t miss it. The flash of regret in Endreth’s eyes, the quick shake of Aegonar’s head?—
“I . . . I’m sorry for your loss.” Anthea’s eyes were drawn to Endreth, he was staring blankly ahead, eyes filled with a sadness she had never noticed before. She watched as he clenched and unclenched his fists, the usually confident prince appearing more vulnerable than she had ever seen him. Swallowing, she reached out across the small round table grasping Endreth’s hand, giving it a small squeeze, making him look at her again. “I lost my parents seven years ago,” she said. “It’s . . . it’s hard. I know.”
A flash of surprise registered on his face. Anthea found herself staring into his eyes, her heart pounding in her chest. She remembered the raw, heart-wrenching pain she had felt, the agony of losing the two people she had loved most. The feeling of being ripped apart, piece by piece, her world crumbling around her. She remembered Ari and Treia, their wide, tear-filled eyes staring up at her, looking to her for guidance and support in a world that had suddenly turned dark and cold.
“I know what it’s like,” she added, tracing her thumb over his hand “And I’m really sorry.”
Endreth’s gaze softened as he watched her, but it was Aegonar’s voice that cut through the silence, a sneer playing on his lips.
“Humans’ lives are short,” he began dismissively, his tone cold and arrogant. “You could not comprehend the depth of an elven grief.” His words struck Anthea like a physical blow. She let go of Endreth’s hand, her cheeks flushing with indignation.
“Excuse me?” Anthea snapped, her eyes blazing as they met the heir’s green ones. Aegonar merely smirked at her, unaffected by her anger. “I understand now why the darker spells come naturally to you, Prince Aegonar,” she added, lifting her chin.
His sneer turned razor sharp, but before he could respond, Endreth intervened.
“That is enough for today,” he commanded, eyes darting from his brother to Anthea. “We are done for the night. You can leave, Anthea.”
She shot a final glare at the Crimson heir, but she didn’t voice anything, choosing instead to rise and leave without a word. Her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides as she walked. She would not let herself be vulnerable in front of these princes again. She would keep her emotions hidden, and focus on understanding the intricacies of this strange world.
She would focus on finding her way out.
