AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Have you tried it?” Curringham asked, leaning even closer.
“Won’t it kill me?” she replied softly enough that I had to pause my breath to hear her.
“The red berries, yes.” Curringham nodded. “One taste and you would drop to the ground and never wake again.”
Lady Darolyn dragged a finger across her bottom lip. Curringham’s eyes followed the movement.
If I ended up hearing them rollicking back on Curringham’s desk, I would jump off the roof.
“And the black ones?” Lady Darolyn purred.
“The black ones can do all sorts of wondrous things...” Curringham played with his gold chain, peering at Lady Darolyn’s full pout. “Their seeds can be mixed into ointments to heal the wounded or the sick. Their juice is bottled and used as a serum to keep the user young. But the best...”
Now, it was Lady Darolyn who was leaning in.
“The best way to enjoy them is to pluck the black berry right off its vine and eat it,” Curringham said. He brought his fingers to his lips as if they held a berry between them.
“What does it do?” Lady Darolyn asked, her eyes were bright and her accent thicker than before.
Curringham cocked a brow. “The moment the berry passes your lips, your face will flush with heat.” He cupped Lady Darolyn’s face in his hand and traced his thumb along her cheek. “Then, your entire body will ignite. Hours will pass in euphoria so intense you might not even remember your own name, recognize where you are. But you won’t care because thewinvrafeelsthatgood. Just a single taste”—he slid his thumb over her lip in a slow swipe—“would be enough. Absolute ecstasy.”
Lady Darolyn bit her lip, as if she could taste the berry’s juice.
“How many times have you eaten it?” she asked. Her voice grated on her throat. She sipped her drink, slumping back in the chair.
“Never.” Curringham leaned back, crossing his arms. He wore a proud smirk as his eyes took in the rise of Lady Darolyn’s chest.
“Not once?” Lady Darolyn pushed, her dark brows knitting together as her head tilted to one side. The sunlight cast a warm glow along her brown skin, emphasizing the length of her neck.
“Lords who make a habit of tasting their crop soon find themselves without any,” Curringham said. His lips were thin lines.
Her eyes widened. “It’s addictive?”
“Very,” Curringham answered. “Thankfully,winvrais too expensive for most to risk addiction.” He smirked. It was a price that Curringham helped artificially inflate. And consequently fill his stores of gold.
“On my continent, people say thatwinvrais how your king sustains himself. A diet of berries to keep hold of his youth. It’s a wonder how he staves off death and addiction,” Lady Darolyn said, her eyes shifting toward the manor doors.
Curringham coughed. I thought he might ignore the accusation entirely, but he leaned closer to her. “The temporary thrills ofwinvraare not enough to tempt a man like the king. Or me. The king is not a fool. He would not share the secret to his longevity with the world, regardless of the profit.”
I scoffed.
Lady Darolyn tilted her head. “But then how—”
“Balance,” Curringham cut in. “They say there is a balance to the magic of this land. The Elves were greedy, they pushed the magic to its limits and even then, it wasn’t enough. They wanted more. Unnatural creatures know no natural bounds.
“The king restored that balance during the Blood Wars that rid this kingdom of Elves. The gods blessed him for returning Elverath to its natural state, giving him a year of life for every Elf slain. His blessing still holds, and it seems he has passed that immortality on to his sons,” Curringham finished.
Lady Darolyn nodded; her eyes wide. It was the same story that was told all over the kingdom. King Aemon and his burning sword bringing balance and prosperity to his domain for the end of time. I noticed that the stories never seemed to explain how the Halflings, unnatural creatures too, brought balance with their lives rather than their deaths.
Lady Darolyn tucked a strand of her dark waves behind her ear. Then she twirled the strand in her hands just above her chest. Her lips twitched as Curringham’s gaze lowered again.
“When I was in the capital, a shipment ofwinvrawas stolen. Does that happen often?” Her voice was light as her eyes fluttered. It was obvious to anyone that Lady Darolyn already knew the answer, but Curringham took a moment to process the question, his eyes still staring at her chest.
“No,” he answered. His back straightened and his fingers flexed. It had beenhisshipment the thieves had lifted.
“Do they know who was responsible for the theft?” she asked, even though she knew that too. The entire kingdom knew who had managed to steal a crate ofwinvrafrom the king.
“Most believe it is the Shadow,” Curringham spat. My body hardened at the name. There had been witnesses that night. Three of Curringham’s own men, the ones who had not been slain, had named the Shadow as the thief. My eyes narrowed at Curringham’s disbelief.
