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My magic is burning through my dress.
It all happens so quickly, so unexpectedly. The commander turns his kinetic magic toward the shards of glass raining down on people. His hand points toward the window and catches the glass and mends it in a single ball of his fist. Though he makes sure nobody gets hurt from my outburst, my magic burns my dress to ash.
Standing in the middle of the dance floor as smoke engulfs my nude body, I feel like sobbing. If not for D’Artaron, whose magic yanks a purple curtain hanging over the window and drapes it over my nakedness, I would rush out of there a weeping mess.
D’Artaron steps past the smoke my body still emits as it purges the afterburn of the lightning fire magic. I expect him to chastise me, and I’m terrified of the consequences. What will the Unseelie king do? How about the fate?
“I’m in so much trouble,” I tell him.
He opens his mouth to say something, but instead, rakes my body with his dark teal gaze.
When he looks back up, his eyes darken, and he says, “It could’ve been worse.”
4
CHLOE
Seven spans after the Unseelie wedding. Spring Court.
After my incident, the queen and king escorted me back to the Spring Court, where my mother-in-law chastised me for the incident. She thought I had tried to kill the commander and dramatized our collective doomsday, which involved a clash of Seelie kings and the subsequent Unseelie takeover of the Seelie lands.
On the other hand, my father-in-law thought it was a beautiful display of the magic he had no idea I even possessed. He swears he’s never seen light wielders burn like fire, but that’s likely because he’s never seen how poorly trained astralum magic presents.
Everyone carrying astralum magic trains from birth, but because I was a late magic bloomer and a sickly child when my brother enrolled me into a military academy, I got sent back. Fearing I’d burn out under the pressure of both the magic and the rigorous training, they recommended a quiet secluded life for me. Lack of stimulation would be best, they said.
Yeah.
After I turned eighteen, when the suitors started coming around and my late father started thinking about marrying me off, my brother stopped him, saying I was still too fragile and innocent to marry off to one of those “motherfuckers.” My brother uses colorful language.
I presume D’Artaron does too. Most military males cuss like lycan sailors.
Then all my sisters married, and my father passed away, leaving me and my brother indebted to my brother-in-law, who now runs the family since my own brother mentally checked out long ago. He spends more time at the vineyard and in the stables than at home with me.
And so I’ve successfully and quietly carried my magic, most spans mostly forgetting all about it because it’s useless while picking apples and making pies I sold in our family bakery. Or what’s left of it.
Now, during the winter wedding, I’ve burned off my dress in front of the entire royal population of the fae lands. Way to go, me. I really know how to make an entrance into the highborn circles.
The queen said best-case scenario was that people will now avoid me, and I would be removed from court during the spring mating season. She meant right away, and yet seven spans later, on my husband’s orders, I’m still in my chambers. I have no clue if he’s keeping me around because it angers his mother or if he really likes me and wants to mate with me during the season.
Granted, the night before last, he’d promised he’d visit. Perhaps tonight is the night. I’m a little nervous. Never had a wedding night before. Never had much of a relationship, other than that one time an officer temporarily camped near our village offered to eat my pie. I took him in the back of the shop and let him.
It was nice.
I think of Princess Fleur and how I should model her fine manners. She would never have lost control of her faculties around a male. Even if he is handsome and kind and makes me feel like he’s rolling around with me in the orchid fields.
Oh crap. I’m thinking about him again.
I can’t think like that about a male who isn’t my husband. What if someone hears me think? Isn’t the Summer king rumored to be a voca? He’s not here, but are there others? In this court? My mother-in-law would love nothing more than to gather evidence of my wrongdoing and have me beheaded for treason.
Lying in my bed, I hold my ruby pendant, eyes searching the dark space for intruders. During our ride to the Unseelie wedding, my prince gifted me with this golden necklace with a ruby pendant, the rock as big as my eye. He made me promise I would never leave him, for I am “the most perfect wife who demands nothing of me.”
I guess that means he’s pleased with me.
Maybe he really is going to visit tonight.
Now I’m even more nervous and excited, but it’s nearing the middle of the night. I hope he arrives before I sleep. If I fall asleep, he’ll probably leave. Not that I could fall asleep anyway.
After growing bored of waiting, I huff out a breath and throw off the comforter. Crossing the cold floor, I walk to the desk and pull out a piece of paper.
