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Hawthorne

The Golden King and his son, The Shining Prince, stand together as a beacon of light against the darkness of Thayaria’s Witch Queen. With King Mazus watching over Velmara, its children are safe from the evils of the Witch Queen, as long as they mind their parents and teachers. But the poor children of Thayaria are enslaved, forced to work for the Witch Queen or provide her their blood. One day, King Mazus and Prince Hawthorne will defeat the witch, and the children of Thayaria will be safe and happy once again.

Velmaran Book of Children’s Stories

We pass the rest of Abscission splitting our time equally between our apartment and the greenhouse, reading, playing Skran, and talking late into the night. Laurel joins us most days, though she spends nearly all of her time with Silene. It’s almost like she’s avoiding me. The two of them giggle side by side, reading romance books or playing pranks on Fionn and me. At one point, they convinced Fionn to walk under a swirling ball of water. Once he was under it, Laurel had it collapse over him, drenching him in water filled with glittery strings of a slimy substance that stuck to his skin. When he turned and looked at them with incredulity on his face and covered in glitter, they burst out laughing and didn’t stop for a full ten minutes. Fionn just stalked off to his bathing chamber without saying a word.

Laurel also trains with me every few days, slowly improving but still struggling to let go and let the light do what it will. Today, I attempted to teach her to create lightning, hoping it would be an exercise in letting go, but she failed spectacularly. Her drive is impressive—once she’s determined to learn something, she doesn’t stop until she masters it. Equally impressive is her impatience. Not one used to struggling with magic, Laurel gets easily frustrated when she can’t do something immediately.

Despite the additional time we’re spending together, it’s awkward between us after the Solstice dinner. I know she was going to kiss me that night, know that if Silene hadn’t interrupted us, we might have done more than kiss. I can’t get the feel of her body pressed against mine out of my head, those soft curves brushing against me. I want to get her alone again even as the thought scares me. The second Silene appeared, Laurel ripped herself away from me and has somehow ensured Silene or Fionn or both are present when we’re together, even when we train.

After today’s session, where I had to physically drag her out of the training room to get her to stop practicing, I glimpsed her clutching my lightning bolt necklace. The sight sent hot desire shooting through every inch of my body, and I couldn’t stop the image of her naked, wearing nothing but that necklace, from barging into my thoughts. Even now, laying alone in my room late at night on the last day of Abscission, my mind wanders to her.

I think about her more than I want to admit. She haunts my dreams, those heart-shaped lips trailing down my body, full breasts cupped in my hands, reddish hair creating a cage around my face as she rides me. Her body is so different from what I’m used to. The fae, especially females, are lithe and willowy, bodies drawing a straight line. Small breasts, small ass. But Laurel—those curves. I’m tantalized by her cleavage and her round backside. Seeing her immediately ignites my blood, and my eyes find her in any room. Even when I don’t have her in my line of sight, I feel her, keenly aware of her presence like a sixth sense. When she smiles, the world stops around me, and when she laughs, bright and melodic, I cease breathing.

If I’m being honest with myself, the energy that pulses between us makes me uneasy. I don’t know how to be the kind of male she deserves. And, aethers, she deserves so much. Everything that’s been taken from her, everything that she’s had to endure for so long —all at the hands of my own aethers-damned father—is incomprehensible. She should be with someone smart and capable, who can rule at her side and share her burden. I can’t be that for her. I’ve only played pretend at spy, pulling together a small network of allies in Velmara who’ve achieved little. I couldn’t even stop my own father from secreting away the entire country’s supply of thayar flowers. I’m not worthy of her, and she was right to shut down pursuing anything between us. There’s too much history, too much baggage, for us to be anything more than allies.

And yet, when I’m with her, all of that shame and loathing and worry disappears. I get too caught up in poking at her, trying to see which comments or grins make her laugh, or shiver, or open up. It takes so much energy to keep my hands off her, and I fail more often than not. But I’m still trying to respect her reasons for not wanting to act on this attraction, reasons that the rational part of my brain agrees with, even if other parts of me don’t.

Attraction. I laugh out loud. What courses between us is so much more than attraction, so much more than lust. There are many beautiful females in Velmara, all eager to catch the attention of the Shining Prince. None have ever set me on fire the way Laurel does, like I’m a light burning brighter and brighter the longer I spend in her presence. I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t enjoy flirting my way through most situations, but what I do with Laurel is so much more than flirting. My magic becomes easier around her, too, something about her nearness allowing me to tap into the aether with a stronger and deeper connection.

A soft thud on the small balcony outside my room startles me. Looking over, two bright yellow orbs stare back at me. Laurel’s cat. When I open the door for the feline, she stalks inside. I stay frozen, unsure what to do about the enormous, wild animal in my room. Her sleek body pads toward me, sniffing first my feet, then my legs, then my stomach. My heart beats quickly in my chest, and I regret opening the door for her. She rubs her head against my palm, and on instinct I scratch it. Yellow eyes close in satisfaction, so I increase the pressure. Sitting down on the foot of my bed, I run both hands down her body.

“You’re just a regular house cat, aren’t you?” She responds by purring loudly and jumping onto my bed to lay her head in my lap. I continue scratching her, as I’m not sure what else to do, and I certainly don’t want to anger what is one of the most terrifying beasts I’ve ever encountered. We sit like that for several more minutes. With no warning, the cat stands up, stretches, and jumps through the open door. She’s disappeared before I can even stand. I chuckle as I shut the door behind her. Cats are all the same, no matter the size.

That night, after my usual inappropriate dreams of Laurel, I dream of an old fae female. She stares at me with haunted yellow eyes, and is saying something to me, but I can’t understand her. She has long black hair that reaches past her waist, and sharp nails that resemble claws. I get the sense that she’s desperate to tell me something, but I can never hear her or speak back to her. When I wake in the morning, the image of her distraught expression lingers.

“Are you almost ready?” Silene asks as she pops her head into my bedroom. I straighten my tunic, push my hair back from my face, and turn to Silene, whose shit-eating grin gives me pause.

“What?” I ask, cheeks heating for no reason. Absolutely no reason at all.

“Nothing. You’re just taking a lot of time with your appearance for a day of hard work cleaning up the merchant district. I wonder why.” She delivers the last line in a sing-song voice before she skips away. Rolling my eyes, I follow her out of the room.

“She’s right, brother. You’ve got it bad for Laurel,” Fionn remarks with a smirk.

“I do not!” I snap, but that only causes Silene and Fionn to trade a look and burst into laughter. I storm past them and walk out the doors of the apartment. Once I’m in the hallway, I yell back at them. “Let’s go! These buildings aren’t going to clean up themselves.”

We make the trek down into Arberly and to the destroyed merchant district. Now that Abscission is over, Fionn committed all three of us to help with efforts to clean up and repair the destruction from the rebel attack. Not that I mind. Fionn converses with several fae and humans who are in charge of the cleanup. They direct us farther into the district, to a stretch that was completely destroyed and needs to be fully cleared away before rebuilding. We immediately get to work, Fionn hauling giant beams of metal away with his magic while Silene follows behind him to blow away any remaining debris. I stick to physical labor, picking up what I can and carrying it to the giant burn pile that’s carefully maintained.

After several hours of back-breaking work, we’ve cleared our stretch enough for me to wash it down with water. I focus on the aether pulsing strongly around me, and it helps me find the dozens of barrels of water placed throughout the district for this purpose. A tidal wave crashes down over the area, washing away dirt and debris.

“Impressive,” a familiar feminine voice says from behind me. Turning, my eyes instantly find Laurel, surprisingly clad in a modest purple gown. Though I can’t say I dislike the scandalous dresses she likes to wear when she’s playing a scary witch, I like this look on her too.

“I’m glad you’ve finally realized I’m impressive,” I quip back with a wink. She rolls her eyes.

“I’m going to the school today to speak with the students there. I thought you might like to come with me. There are still a few light channelers who would love a few tips from you.” Her open expression makes my heart flip.

“Lead the way,” I say with a grin before yelling back to Fionn and Silene about where I’m going.

The school mirrors the palace in that it’s also built into the side of a cliff, with training platforms carved out along the ridge. Margery, the advisor I recognize as the Minister of Education, greets us at the front doors before leading us to a massive meeting room where hundreds of students have gathered, eager looks on their faces. When Laurel enters, there’s a shuffling as students and teachers stand to bow, but she waves them off.

“Please welcome Her Majesty Queen Laurel,” Margery says and begins clapping, giving the audience an alternative to bowing. Laurel’s cheeks blush. I love seeing this side of her—the shy and reluctant leader who cares deeply for those she serves.

“Thank you,” Laurel says to quiet the applause. “I’m also joined today by a special guest, His Highness Prince Hawthorne of Velmara.” Awkward applause and murmuring breaks out, the students unsure what to make of my presence. “Prince Hawthorne, would you give the students a demonstration of your light magic?” There’s mischief in her eyes. I nod, and the room erupts in blinding light as several awes sound throughout the room. I bring the light into small orbs that whizz around the room, playfully dancing around the students. Then the light rushes forward toward me and collects in a massive long sword that I swing around my body. The applause that breaks out this time is fervent, and Laurel’s eyes sparkle with a plan well executed. I give her my own appreciative grin. “Thank you, Prince Hawthorne,” she says. “As you can see, the Prince has a very rare and unique power. He’ll be taking those of you with light channeling abilities for a private lesson later. But first, what questions do you have for me or Prince Hawthorne?”

Dozens of hands raise, and I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face. The students are eager to learn and clearly adore their Queen. Laurel fields their questions expertly, turning a few over to me. Most are some version of how we learned to use our magic, what our training looks like, or how they can learn to make swords with their magic.

“Is it true that you have an affinity for every conduit?” a very young student asks Laurel, awe in her eyes. Laurel stiffens for the tiniest fraction of a moment, so quick few would catch it. Rather than answering the question, she quickly displays magic using all conduits. Water streams through the air, sliced by a metal dagger she pulled from her waist. Plants crawl through the windows, illuminated by orbs of light. She finishes the demonstration with a gentle breeze of air. The students applaud, eyes wide in fascination and bodies moving with uncontainable energy from their excitement.

It’s a smart way to evade the question.

“One last question,” a beaming Laurel tells the group, and she calls on a student no older than ten in the front row.

“Now that Prince Hawthorne is here and things are better with Velmara, does that mean the mist will come down?” The student asks the question innocently, clear enthusiasm written across her features. But Laurel visibly tenses, her entire body on alert, and several of the teachers exchange worried glances with one another. Margery steps in, clearly trying to avoid what seems to be a tense and politically charged topic. It’s the rebels’ most prevalent point of contention with Laurel.

“I think we’re actually out of time—” Margery says to smooth over the situation.

“It’s okay,” Laurel says to stop Margery, voice quiet. Her gaze lands on the student, who now looks fearful at the reaction of the adults in the room. Laurel smiles kindly and walks to kneel in front of the small fae girl. She takes the child’s hands in hers, speaking to the room loud enough for all to hear but never breaking eye contact with the girl. “I would love nothing more than to bring the mist down for Thayaria. But we must be careful. Prince Hawthorne is my friend, but I still don’t trust the rulers of the other kingdoms. I hope that someday Prince Hawthorne and I will open up Thayaria’s borders together.”

Something in my chest flips when she says we’re friends, but it’s quickly replaced by the weight of her next words. I hope that someday Prince Hawthorne and I will open up Thayaria’s borders together. I sense the trueness of that statement. It’s a promise and a prophecy spoken by lips I think about too frequently.

Laurel stands, and the room stays eerily quiet. “Thank you for having me today,” she says, and they applaud softly. Margery takes over, directing the students back to their classes and asking the light channelers to stay. Laurel inches closer to me, and my body reacts instantly. I close the space between us, our arms grazing as we survey the room. For a brief moment, our hands even brush. “Thanks for coming today,” she says softly, leaning closer to me.

“Of course, I wouldn’t have missed helping my friend .” I give her a wink, and she rolls her eyes, a practiced exchange between the two of us at this point.

“Don’t make me regret saying we’re friends,” she says sternly, and I chuckle.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, witchling. I’m happy to be your friend.” She stares at me, but I meet her scrutinizing gaze. After what feels like an eternity, she nods, and I release the breath I’d been holding. “Did you attend this school?” I ask, nodding to the room.

“I did, though not for very long,” she admits.

“Why is that?”

“Once my parents realized how powerful I was, they pulled me out. They didn’t want me to hurt anyone, and they wanted to keep my magic a secret. But I didn’t mind. I was lonely here, and I never knew if it was because I was the Princess and the other students were intimidated by me, or whether I was just unlikable. Even though I became even lonelier when I had to spend my days with Admon as my teacher, I was happy not to have to find out the real reason my only friend was Nemesia.” The admission seems to shock her, because her eyes widen in surprise and I can see her physically shutting me out like she has many times before, turning her body away and slumping her shoulders. Before this moment can get away from us, I offer my own story, determined not to let this moment of vulnerability slip through my fingers.

“We have that in common, you know. I told you at the ball how lonely it was for me to be the only light channeler. It was also lonely to be more powerful than any of my tutors, more powerful than my parents. I didn’t get to go to school, even for a short time. Fionn was my only companion, and it took us years to become friends.” I watch her closely for her reaction, and for the briefest moment, she seems to open up. Our eyes meet. Something intangible passes between us, an energy with a low and slowly humming frequency, so unlike the typical charge between us.

“I’ll see you back at the merchant district,” is all she says before turning and walking away, and I sigh at her dismissal. I spend the next hour with a group of four light channelers, walking them through similar exercises that I’ve been teaching Laurel for the last few months. Their progress is not as quick as hers, but the teacher, a metal channeler, promises to continue using these same drills with them. He seems relieved to have the guidance.

“Where do these students come from?” I ask the instructor as the students practice conjuring light into small, concentrated orbs and releasing them. “I thought light affinity only existed in Eastern Velmara, with my mother’s people. I was shocked to learn of light channelers here in Thayaria.”

The instructor nods. “Indeed, these are distant relatives of yours. When the barrier went up after the war, many Velmarans were trapped here, and most were too afraid to declare their heritage and ask to be sent home. Several families were from Eastern Velmara, and these are their offspring.” He smiles.

His words give me pause, adding to my complicated feelings about the relationship between Velmara and Thayaria, and the lengths Laurel felt she had to go to in order to keep her kingdom safe from my father. The thought of my family, distant cousins though they may be, stuck here without a way home makes me grieve in a way I don’t fully understand. Her words from earlier echo through my thoughts once more, and I vow to make them true.

“Thank you for letting me come today. If you’ll have me, I’d love to visit again in a few weeks to see their progress.”

“We would all enjoy that.”

When I return to the merchant district, Fionn and Laurel are using their magic together to haul metal beams into place for the frame of a new building. They’ve made amazing progress while I’ve been at the school. Not only have they cleared the rubble of four more structures, but they’ve built a new frame and a second is going up.

“Steady, almost there, queenie,” Fionn coaches Laurel. Fionn looks like he’s straining, but Laurel remains as cool and unaffected as ever—she could likely perform the task on her own. When the beam is in place, Fionn melts the ends of it with his magic, then has it rapidly cool against the connecting beams. It leaves the frame sturdily secured. Several of the fae and humans helping with the rebuild cheer for Fionn, and he grins.

Striding up beside Laurel, I whisper, “I think someone is hiding the real depth of her power, witchling.” She blushes.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she returns, eyes bright.

“Mmmhmmm,” I growl. “At least Fionn is getting to use his magic.”

“Exactly. It’s clearly important to him to feel useful, especially here. With the citizens. He deserves their cheers.” She’s not wrong, and for what must be the hundredth time, I’m taken aback by her thoughtfulness, the way she can read a person so easily. I step into her body but stop myself from wrapping my arm around her waist like I want to out of respect for her request to not pursue anything between us, even if she clearly almost broke that rule herself.

We’re friends , and that is enough for me. I think.

“Watch this,” she says, nodding her head to the five fae who have gathered around the new frame of the building. The branches of a massive oak tree nearby stretch toward the structure. Limbs weave themselves between the metal beams, growing quickly in a crisscross pattern. When an entire section is fully covered, the leaves die off, leaving only the wood from the tree wrapped tightly between metal beams. A fae chops the tree each place it connects to the building, and the branches that had stretched out return to the tree. Several humans climb up on the structure and begin sanding down the woven wood until it’s smooth. They repeat the process again on the next structure.

“That’s incredible,” I whisper, and Laurel gives me a wide and genuine smile. “And so efficient.”

“Thayarians are powerful plant channelers, and we use that in as many ways as we can,” she says, genuine admiration for her people clear in her expression. We stand together while the build team covers the structure in wood and sands it down. Fionn and Silene join us, the same awe on their faces.

“Imagine if we could do this in the Floating Market,” Fionn murmurs. “Merchants could replace the worn wood every year to keep the buildings safer and more secure.”

“All you need is a few plant channelers and the right materials,” Laurel tells him. “You can even bring in a potted tree if there are none nearby. Something that’s water resistant.”

“If there are light channelers here who got stuck after the war, there are certainly plant channelers in Velmara who are afraid to identify themselves,” I say, and Laurel shudders. Silene grips her hand, always aware of the comfort others need, and I regret my words. Of course they make her feel guilt—I should have been more careful.

Fionn coughs, then adds, “We’ll have to try it when we get home. Whenever that is.” Laurel only nods.

Desperate to change the subject and bring the smile back to her face, I bump her with my hip. “I’m sure Laurel is ready for us to depart any day now.”

She opens her mouth to speak, but closes it again, before looking between the three of us. “You know,” she says, “I’m actually not. I can’t even jest with you. I’ve enjoyed getting to know all three of you.” Her cheeks redden at the admission, and I smirk, though internally my organs feel like they’re exploding. Her small admission lights me up with hope and longing.

“We’re irresistible, we know,” I tease, trying to break the tension for both her and myself. Laurel and Silene both snort, then link arms and sashay away together.

“Those two are trouble,” Fionn says in mock seriousness before grinning at me.

“Trouble is an understatement.”