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“What was that?”
Her blue eyes flared with silver light, and I instinctively cringed away. “The dryad I had conscripted to work here.”
When I didn’t say anything for several seconds, Everence chuckled, her anger from a moment ago dissipating.
“A dryad is a tree fae. Occasionally, I can convince them to work here, explaining that they will work alone and be well paid.”
I blinked in confusion.
“They usually say yes when they see the state of the garden. But if they ever see—” Her words cut off abruptly. She shook her head. “They never stay long.”
“I haven’t seen any servants here, other than the ones who serve the meals.”
Everence nodded. “Those are the alojas. Female water spirits most of the time, but they can shift into bodily form for a few hours a day, and they are some of the most talented fae: artists, architects, chefs. Hence why we hire them to cook. Even the high fae are not artists, despite all of our magic.”
“None of you are artists?” Somehow, this was more shocking than a creature who could shift forms.
She lifted a hand and curled her palm in the air. A milky white sculpture of an owl appeared in thin air above her hand. “I needed no talent for this. Just an idea and a bit of magic. It isn’t the same. And it’s worthless.” She handed it to me.
It was made of ice and stung my skin. “It’s beautiful, though.”
Almost as soon as my fingers touched it, the entire thing melted, and my hands dripped with water.
“Not meant to last, though. The most powerful fae lack the magic of art. Mortals are the best artists. It’s one reason fae sneak into your markets.” She smiled at me.
I’d never thought of art as magic. “I’m no artist.”
“I’ve seen you pulling weeds. The path toward your room is the loveliest part of this garden. And a garden is art as much as a painting. You create beauty, even if you don’t consider it art.”
“Can’t you all work your magic on plants?” I’d heard plenty about fae and nature.
She waved a hand across a rose bush, covering it with thin frost. “Yes. But again, it isn’t the same as putting in the time to make something lovely the way you humans do. I’m constantly amazed to see mortals pursue beauty through pain. It’s fascinating.” She turned toward me, her eyes glowing faintly again; this time, the light was somehow softer. “You willingly accept a sore back and knees to pull weeds from the earth. A lifetime of painting ruins your eyes. And years of writing with a quill hurts your hands. You punish your bodies to look stronger, or you accept less sleep to do more work.” She grasped my arm. “You care so deeply about what matters to you that you endure discomfort to pursue it. You even die for what you love. Humans amaze me.”
Her hands were cold on my arm, and a shiver raced down my spine.
“Not all fae think so,” I said.
“No.” She shook her head. “But few have spent as much time around your kind.” She stared at me for a long moment. “In this eternal summer, I long for the chill of winter, the magic of my mother’s court. She was a duchess of the Shadow Court, sworn enemies of the Sun Court, but my father was the one who showed her how to use her magic for good. Theirs was an impossible love, so they moved to the mortal lands to escape my kind. I spent my childhood there, watching every soul I befriended and loved grow old and pass from this earth.”
My eyes widened. Everence dropped my arm and walked down the garden path. The stars were starting to peek through a clear purple sky as the light faded.
Over her shoulder, she said, “I grew tired of bearing witness to so much death, so I returned to this world. The Shadow Court is a terrible place, so I sought a home among my father’s lands. He and Rafael’s father were brothers.”
“Were?”
Everence’s mouth hardened. “My father still lives in the mortal realm, but Rafael’s twin brother murdered their father to take his power.”
“Oh.”
She continued, oblivious to the shock on my face. “When I learned of Rafael’s fate, I came here. I do what I can to help him maintain the estate, but my magic, aside from my gift of healing, is not as developed as most high fae, given I spent my first two centuries among mortals.”
A cough burst from my lips. I kept forgetting how old these people were. Hector had said time passed differently for them—he was right. My shoulders sank. “Does Rafael stay away for long periods of time?”
Everence turned toward me with a sad smile, full of pity. “He travels to buy or sell his horses and stays away sometimes only a matter of days, other times many months.”
My shoulders fell, and I stared at the ground.
“However, tonight, you will likely find him in the library.”
