Page 27 of Fey Empire (Fey Lords #5)

Chapter twenty-six

“ T his one is an anthurium. It only grows here on Earth.”

Selwyn proudly shows me another one of his plants. I think he is going to introduce me to every single one in his collection, and that’s delightful.

I’m in his inner sanctum, and he is sharing the things that bring him joy with me. I’m so honoured and flattered.

Yesterday, a walk in the gardens where he declared feelings for me, today this. It is all too good to be true. I’d think I was dreaming except my imagination has never been this good.

The yellow flower he tucked behind my ear, is safely pressed between the pages of one of my sketch books. I can check it every time I need reassurance that this is real. I am going to keep it forever. It is my most prized possession.

The treason stuff is a dark, ominous cloud on the horizon, but it is not obscuring the sun yet. So I can ignore it. Ignore it and bask in the light.

Selwyn gently runs a finger along one of the plant's leaves. His billowing shirtsleeves are rolled up exposing his wonderful forearms.

“This one is thirsty,” he says .

For a moment, my heart freezes as I think he is talking about me. Then good sense prevails, and I realise he is talking about his plant.

“How can you tell?” I splutter as I pull myself together.

If this type of plant doesn’t grow in the fey realm, how is he familiar enough with it to understand what it needs?

Selwyn’s eyes light up. This really is a subject that delights him. He seems completely different in here. Not at all shut off and cold. In here, he is not a prince. In here, he is himself.

And he is far softer than I ever could have imagined. I like it. I like him like this. Combined with the naked forearms, and here I am on the verge of getting flustered.

He picks up my hand and places it on the warm terracotta pot.

“What can you feel?”

I feel achingly aware that he just touched me and made my skin tingle, but I know he doesn’t mean that. He wants me to pay attention to the pot and how it feels under my palm.

I don’t think he means physically. He is talking about magic, and while I’m incapable of wielding my magic, I can sense things with it.

It has been a while since Selwyn emptied me. Magic is swirling within me once more and heightening all of my senses.

And now I’m curious enough to let go of my thirsty, inappropriate thoughts and actually focus on what he is trying to teach me.

“Reach for her life force. Listen to it. What does it tell you? ”

Okay. Concentrate. All livings things are imbued with a little magic.

Some scholars argue that magic is merely concentrated life.

But that is all far above my level of education.

All I know is that life force is easy to sense.

A plant feels different from a chair. However, I’m not sure I can sense anything more detailed than that.

Selwyn fixes me with a keen and excited look. My heart flutters. Okay, there is no harm in trying. It clearly means a lot to him.

I take a steadying breath, then I listen with the part of me that is aware of magic.

The plant’s life force sparkles. Golden and vibrant. Far calmer than anything truly magical, a gentle aura instead of a burning flame of power.

The thrum of the plant’s essence tingles now that I am paying attention to it. And woven into it is a note of yearning, a melody of waiting for rain.

I gasp and pull back my hand in surprise. I look up at Selwyn in astonishment. It worked, it really worked, and it was so easy.

His grin is enormous. “You can hear her?”

I nod, more than a little dumbfounded. My gaze dances around the hundreds of plants dotted around the room.

“They can all communicate?”

Selwyn’s grin grows even wider. “Yes.”

“Can you teach me how to listen to them all?”

“I just did,” he says. “Now all you need to do is practice.”

Oh my stars. Plants talk? And all I need to do is stop and listen? What a miraculous, marvellous thing. Life is never going to be the same again .

I’m going to spend so much time in the gardens now. I can’t wait to listen to everything. I wonder if trees sound different to flowers?

I beam at Selwyn and I open my mouth to say something, but Loki thumps her tail against the floorboards, wagging lazily from where she is stretched out on her side on the floor. Her ears are twitching toward the door, and just as I look at it, it opens.

Peaony steps in and drops into a curtsy. Selwyn sighs even though she hasn’t said a word.

“There is an event I must get ready for,” he says. “I shall have to bid you farewell.”

My heart sinks. We were having such a lovely time. But it can’t be helped. I can draw, or play with Loki until he returns.

Selwyn pauses. He seems almost nervous. I look up at him.

He licks his lips. “Unless you wish to attend a ball with me?”

My stomach flips right the way over and then back again. Not only is it doing somersaults, it is doing full-on gymnastics.

I don’t much like balls, but I like spending time with Selwyn. And I very much like that he has invited me. It means he wants to spend time with me too.

“I’d be delighted to,” I say.

This marriage truly is beginning to blossom.

B alls at the fey court are dimly lit compared to the balls the human nobility have. Well, the ones Mother made me attend were certainly all glitzy and bright. Dazzling chandeliers, so everyone could show off their finery.

Whereas it is positively shadowy in here. And I’m fairly certain there are people fornicating in the alcoves. Even so, this is all familiar enough to not be too alarming.

I’m hovering near the drinks table, trying not to be noticed. Just like I have done at every ball I have ever attended.

Selwyn is a few paces to the right, surrounded by people fawning over him. That has to be one of the worst things about being a prince.

Hopefully, he will be able to break away soon and talk to me. In the meantime, being near him is nice, and I’m still so thrilled that he wanted me to come.

“Hi,” says a voice right beside me.

I swivel around and find Blake getting himself a drink from the huge selection laid out on the table.

He is half-naked as usual, but now also glistening with some sort of oil. It is an effort not to stare.

“Not a party person?” He smiles.

I shake my head. “No, not really.”

Out in the crowd, Prince Mabon is dancing. Swirling elegantly. He looks beautiful, and like he is having the time of his life.

Blake must be taken to a lot of social events, so hopefully he finds them bearable.

I’m so glad that Selwyn is not a social butterfly. Though if he were, I’m sure he would allow me to stay in our rooms while he socialised. He seems kind like that .

“Do you enjoy parties?” I say politely.

Blake comes and stands next to me with his drink, facing the crowd, but it is clear his eyes are only on Mabon.

“I don’t mind them,” he says with a fond smile.

Of course he wouldn’t. He is all big muscles and bigger confidence. A manly man, unlike me.

“You are very good at this.”

He speaks so quietly I only just hear him.

The hairs on the back of my neck rise. His tone has changed completely and is now deeply alarming. Lord knows I’ve been around malice enough to recognise it instantly. My mother practically invented it.

“The innocent, frightened kid act has absolutely everyone fooled.”

I take a sip of my drink and concentrate on keeping my face blank. I shouldn’t take this to heart. It is not personal. It is simply the way people are.

But I can’t deny it stings. I thought Blake was nice, and I have no idea what I have ever done to him to piss him off.

He edges closer to me, and his hand brushes over mine. Reflexively, I take the piece of paper he passes me and I hide it in my palm.

“This was one last favour to an old friend,” he whispers. He takes a sip of his drink, looking for all the world like the king of nonchalant. “I am done with the Resistance. Please don’t ask me to do anything else, not even to send a return message.”

With that, he strides back out onto the dance floor and disappears into the crowd.

The piece of paper feels as if it is burning my hand. Not with sorcery. With guilt and fear and the weight of expectations .

Blake believes I am with the Resistance? Blake himself was with the Resistance?

I gulp down the last of my juice. I need something stronger. Far stronger.

I find a pocket in my robes and shove the note in. Blake is mistaken, but surely whoever sent him is not? They have to know I’m a nothing and a nobody.

This secret message is not for me. It has to be for my husband.

I turn to the table and pick up a goblet of mead. I lift it straight to my lips and drink deeply. The sweet taste has a bite to it, and it helps clear my mind.

Why have I been trusted with being a messenger? It is a risky move. Nobody knows where my loyalties lie, because I don’t even know where my loyalties lie. I haven’t had time to figure that out.

Are people assuming Selwyn has told me things? Or has there been some sort of mixup and it is not only Blake who thinks I’m with the Resistance?

Is this some sort of test?

If so, how the hell do I pass?