Page 76 of Only Flames Remain

“Breathtaking,” I replied truthfully. “Why is it that the garden is locked?”

Voirel’s gaze slipped to mine, her gaze sad. “Sorin planted it for our mother. When she passed…he wanted to keep it just for the two of us. Not that we get many visitors at Stormgaard, anyway. His magic keeps the plants alive, even in his absence.”

For Melantha.

Sorin had planted all of these beautiful flowers for his mother.

The image of Sorin on his hands and knees, a trowel in his fierce grip, brought a warmth to my chest I hadn’t expected. It was such a sweet gesture. One that didn’t match the dangerous, short-tempered prince I had come to know.

“It must be difficult for you. To be without her,” I said, sitting beside Voirel on the bench.

She nodded, tears filling her usually bright sapphire eyes. “I miss her every day. Sorin does, too. He comes here more often than I do, I think. To sit here and remember her.” She reached toward a white blooming rose that grew over her shoulder. “Roses were her favorite.”

“They are mine, too,” I told her.

Warmth painted her cheeks when she turned back toward me. “I know Sorin would have taken you here once he returned.”

I wasn’t sure about that.

“He planted all of these by himself?” I asked.

Voirel nodded enthusiastically. “He sailed them in from all over the realm. So that she would have each and every color. He spent endless days and nights preparing the garden. Tending to the flowers and watering them. Mother loved it here. She spent most of her time in Stormgaard before her passing.”

“What about your father?” I asked.

I knew she was not the daughter of King Mavros, but her father had to be Vireth, too. Voirel turned away sharply, hiding her face from me. She took a deep, staggering breath to try to right herself.

“I—I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.” I placed a delicate hand against her back to soothe her. She flinched at first but quickly leaned into my touch as I rubbed soothing circles against her.

“It’s just that…he’s gone, too.” I had assumed as much. “King Mavros killed him.”

My hand remained on her back, but my head reeled back in surprise. King Mavros had killed Melantha’s lover, and Voirel’s father? Why?

I hadn’t thought I'd asked the question aloud, but Voirel answered anyway.

“He was jealous. If he couldn’t have Melantha, no one could.” She swallowed hard as her gaze traveled back to meet mine. “Mother raised me until she, too, was gone. Then Sorin took over. He is more of a father to me than my own father ever was. I only met him when I was a baby.”

Sorin was immensely protective of Voirel, and now it made even more sense.

I would have to assume the relationship with King Mavros and Sorin would have been strained ever since. Sorin loved his sister deeply, and he wouldn’t allow anything to hurt her. To think his own father had done so, in an irrevocable way. Voirel’s cheeks were stained with tears, and I reached out to wipe them gently away.

Something about Voirel awakened a maternal instinct in me. Perhaps it was her youthful face. Or her vulnerable, endearing nature. She smiled up at me, blinking more tears free from her gaze.

The wet droplets felt magnetic against my skin.

I was all too aware of the feeling of them, like electricity humming over the surface of my fingers. It was almost the same sensation I had when I had touched Sorin—the opposite of what I would expect from a dragon prince. It was the soft swell of the ocean. Delicate, pattering mist. Silken tides lapping against timeworn rocks.

I shook my head in confusion, wiping the droplets off on the skirts of my dress.

Voirel’s gaze lifted over my shoulder, and I assumed that the tea was being brought out. When I turned, it was Rensford standing in the wooden doorway of the gardens that had been left ajar.

“What is she doing here?” he asked, his voice a warning.

Rensford was intimidating. He was broad, with a wide jaw and severe features. He was also beautiful, his short hair curling against his dark skin at the temples.

“She is taking tea in the garden with me. You are welcome to join us, Rensford,” Voirel answered.

Her composure had returned to normal, as if she hadn’t been crying mere moments ago.