Page 50 of The Nymph Prince

Eva had a calming presence. I was anxious and somewhat alarmed, but she had a way of soothing my nerves with a simple touch of her hand. A healer of the mind just as she was of the body.

“You have questions, I’m sure,” Eva said in a gentle voice.

“Too many to voice.”

“Start with one.”

Where to even begin? She said she’d seen me in a dream, even though I’d never met her before. Some kind of barrier had broken the previous night and everyone with magic in their blood had felt it. Somehow, I was the cause of it all.

“Why me?” I suppose it was as good a question as any.

“In your dream, what did you see? Hear?” Eva leaned forward, resting her elbows on the tops of her thighs. “The answer you seek can be found in the details.”

I’d mentioned the nightmare, after she’d told me why she’d come.

I reclined in the seat and looked over at the hearth. How strange it was to have a fire blazing at the bottom of the sea. Even stranger to look out the glass wall and see water on the other side, all while feeling the comforting kiss of the flames on my skin.

“There were men in robes and their faces were…monstrous. Red eyes and dark veins under their skin.” Shudders went through me. “And there was a woman, a seer I’d met once before. Her face was decomposed to the extent that her eyes were milky and her mouth was black. Rotted. They called mechild of the dark. Called me king.”

She’d confirmed what my dream—nightmare—had implied: I was some king to the magic folk, specifically those who’d followed Haman, the first dark mage. His followers had been in hiding for many, many years, waiting for the emergence of the child of the dark. Me.

“There were stories that a child of the dark would rise, yet I was unsure of who it was. No one knew.” Eva released a short breath and sat back in the cushioned chair. “Until now.”

“What does it mean? Child of the dark?” I asked, puzzled by it all. “My father was a good man, so surely it doesn’t mean I’m the son of evil?”

“Not son, no,” she answered, turning her head toward the glass. “But the descendent of him.”

“Him?”

“I take it you know of Haman?”

Cold crept along my spine, despite the warmth from the fire. “Aye.”

“Before his death, he vowed that it was not the end of the dark mages,” Eva explained. “That the day would come when someone with his blood came into power and would regain control over the land and sea. Some believed it was only the mutterings of a dying man, yet others suspected it was a prophecy of sorts.”

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t.

“You have Haman’s blood coursing through your veins, Alek. It’s why the men in hoods seek you. They believe you’re Haman reborn.”

Reborn.

“In my dream, the seer said something before I woke,” I whispered, feeling ill as everything became clear. “She said they await my presence in Black Hallows… the place of my birth, in more ways than one. What did she mean?”

Eva’s brow crinkled and her eyes glazed over. “I can’t be certain, for I only know the stories, but it’s the place where your powers will be fully realized, Alek. Where they’ll strip all good and light from you and replace it with darkness.”

“My powers are still new to me. I don’t know how to bring them forth,” I answered, ashamed and maybe even a little embarrassed.

I was supposedly a king of the dark mages, yet I couldn’t cast a single spell or perform magic at will.

Eva reached for my hand. I let her. Right as she touched me, the nerves attacking my gut lessened. She had a true gift.

“If you ask it of me, I will be your teacher,” she said as a kind smile spread across her face. “It would be an honor. Perhaps if I can teach you the way of the light, they won’t be able to touch you with shadows.”

“I’d be forever in your debt if you’d teach me.”

“Very well. We’ll begin on the morrow.” She released my hand and stood from the chair before walking over to the wall of glass. She looked at the water. “Beautiful, isn’t it? Yet, with the beauty comes a sacrifice. No sun or green valleys.”

“You remind me of Lorcan,” I said, and with the mention of his name my heart fluttered. No amount of fighting against his charms had dulled my affections for him.