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“He enjoys needling me,” I said to Maisri, watching in admiration as she crafted the single bloom into a delicately beautiful daisy crown.
A flick of her finger, and the stem grew and twisted. A half smile, and a dozen more tiny daisies sprouted to complement the larger one.
Such beautiful magic—so different from my own.
So pure.
She held out the crown, a perfect circlet of green and white. “For you.”
I tripped on a root and nearly fell on my face.
“Very queenly,” Arran observed, even as he caught my arm and dragged me upright.
Maisri smiled up at me, completely unfazed, the flower crown still waiting in her palm. Arran squeezed my arm, then his hand fell away.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “Thank you.”
I turned it over and over in my hands, admiring the delicate, sweet magic. Magic had meant so many things to me in my short life. But never this… simple beauty, solely for its own sake.
“But what is the cost?” I murmured, mostly to myself.
All magic had a cost.
Maisri grinned, and then suddenly sneezed. Again and again. I counted seven. But when she finally straightened, her smile was unbroken.
“I am allergic to daisies,” she said brightly. Then she turned around and skipped back to find Cyara.
A flora gifted fae, so adept with flowers… only to be allergic to them.
I could have laughed—or cried.
Arran’s hands were on mine before I could do either. He gently eased the daisy crown from my fingers. Before I could resist, he placed it on my head.
My breath caught again, but Arran’s hand was under my chin, lifting my face to his.
“It suits you,” he said, the slightest of smiles lifting the corner of his mouth—before it turned wolfish. “My Queen.”
Two words, and he set me aflame.
Suddenly, the promise of a bed didn’t matter. I’d let him take me right here on the forest floor, with the village within shouting distance.
Lyrena did shout.
At some point, she’d passed us.
But it wasn’t a wallop of joy.
Arran and I turned in unison, his flora power pulling back branches to clear the way so we could see straight through to where Lyrena stood at the edge of the forest. But it was the scent that hit me first.
Smoke.
And death.
38
ARRAN
I knew that smell.
