CHAPTER ELEVEN
BETH
Lost princess? What? My jaw dropped at her words. Was she serious? “No, I’m no lost princess or whatever. I’m from—”
I caught myself in time, covering my mistake with a chuckle. Bleddyn had immediately known I was part-human, but dressed as I was now, she would have thought I was Fae.
Lamely, I finished my sentence, smiling broadly. “I was born a long way from here. My parents were simple people.”
Nope, nothing to see here, nosy lady.
Bleddyn’s mouth tightened into a thin line. He looked as if the woman’s words hadn’t surprised him. But why didn’t he laugh at her thinking I was royalty?
Like a king cobra, my suspicion rose again, crawling up my throat and restricting my breathing. What was it with that guy? Did he know more about my heritage than I did? No, that was ludicrous. My mom had been no princess.
But then, I didn’t remember her. My dad had been killed shortly after, stunning me with the revelation that I was half-Fae. So who in this world had the clout to send a professional killer after him and later me? It had probably cost a lot of money.
And who combined the most wealth and power in Faerie? The royal court. Of which Bleddyn was a member.
The cobra bit down hard, and I rubbed my stomach to alleviate the pain. There I went again, down the rollercoaster of suspicion until the next time he’d save my life or do something else nice for me.
I averted my eyes, avoiding the woman’s searching gaze. Picking up the tankard, I took a sip to hide my face. The liquid was cold and tasted strongly of honey and spices. There was a tang of alcohol under the sugary, floral sweetness.
I smacked my lips and asked, “What is that? It tastes great.”
The woman’s eyebrows pulled together. “How do you not know mead? Where did you say you were born?”
Bleddyn responded while I still grappled with an answer. “Where my friend is from, mead is very different. Not as sweet-tasting and flavorful as you make it, Mistress Olwen.”
He turned to me in explanation. “Mistress Olwen runs the finest guesthouse and tavern in Emlyn.”
So she wasn’t a waitress, but the owner of this place. Olwen preened under his praise, and I nodded along, glad I didn’t have to explain myself. Somebody called for her attention from across the room, and she excused herself.
When she was out of earshot, I turned to Bleddyn. “Okay, own up. I bet you know more about me than you let on. What’s the deal with Princess Arwen?”
He looked confused for a moment about my modern idioms. Then he said, his face perfectly still once more, “Our king is Rhys. He had two twin children, Princess Arwen and Prince Prys, his current heir. Princess Arwen disappeared one day, never to be found again. The king is getting old, but he has never stopped searching for his daughter.”
I took another drink, letting his words sink in. If this were a movie, my bet would be that someone had made her disappear. Maybe she’d stumbled across a royal scandal. Maybe she’d run away from all the pomp and circumstance. Either way, it didn’t help me find out more about my family and where I came from.
Some of the mead went down the wrong way, and I coughed until Bleddyn slapped my back. When I could breathe again, I said, “That’s a great story. But I’m hungry. How’s the food?”
Bleddyn looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead, he took a bite. “Very acceptable. Mistress Olwen is clean and a great cook. I always come here when I travel to Emlyn.”
“Oh? So you don’t live in the palace?”
He drank from his tankard, groaning with pleasure. My gaze was drawn like a magnet to his tongue as it licked across his lower lips, catching the last drops of honeyed liquid. I had to force myself to raise my eyes to his.
Shit, he’d noticed. Lifting his left eyebrow, he didn’t comment on it, though. Instead, he said, “No, I spend most of my time roaming the country, making sure the king’s wishes are abided by.”
“So you’re his right hand? Making sure everybody does what he wants?”
“He is the king,” Bleddyn said, as if that explained everything.
I didn’t miss the way his gaze flitted sideways, away from mine. He was either lying or at least not telling the full truth.
I scooped some meat onto my fork and tasted it. Bleddyn was right—it was cooked to perfection. Spicy and falling apart. Yet, now that I knew about the lack of UV rays in this world, something was missing. It still tasted good, but there was a one dimensional quality to it, something a human without magic wouldn’t have picked up.
But I was no ordinary human. I was half-Fae, and my magical power was related to biology. Back home, I’d effortlessly channeled nutrients to my garden plants to grow the largest specimen. I was also an expert in determining what ailed a plant, what was missing from their chemical and nutritional makeup.
Next, I tasted the salad. Closing my eyes, I chewed the crisp lettuce slowly, enjoying the taste of the simple vinaigrette. I pushed deeper, past the superficial flavor. And there it was. The cell structure of the green leaves was weakened. The damage was so bad, the lettuce shouldn’t have been crisp, but soggy and limp. I could taste the foreign magic that created the illusion.
There were no nutrients, barely any vitamins and minerals. Whatever the schism between the two worlds had done, it wasn’t just affecting the sun. It had also deprived the soil of any value. How they managed to grow anything was beyond me. More magic, probably. But it wasn’t enough to replace what had never been there in the first place.
The funny thing about magic was that it couldn’t create something from nothing. It could change one matter into another, or give the illusion of it.
And that’s what was happening here. It was all an illusion. The only way the Fae world was surviving was through the blood sacrifice of human magic users.
I couldn’t ignore what I’d just found out. The chewed mash in my mouth tasted bitter and rotten. My stomach heaving, I spat the masticated mass onto my plate.
Bleddyn looked both appalled and worried. “Are you feeling ill? Can I fetch you some water?”
“No,” I gasped while still spitting to clear the awful taste. The room had fallen silent as everybody watched me retch. I was drawing far too much attention to myself, so I jumped up and rushed to the door, desperate to breathe some fresh air.
My magic was not turning off, though. I took a lungful of stale, stinking air that made me gag anew. Sliding to the ground with my head in my hands, I groaned as my stomach turned over again. I couldn’t remember when I last felt so sick.
Bleddyn had followed me. He grabbed my shoulder and held a vial to my mouth. “Drink this. You will feel better.”
Maybe his potion could fix my haywire powers. Desperately, I grasped the bottle and took a deep sip. It wasn’t the elixir he’d gotten for me, but something else. The liquid was thick, but fragrant, imbued with a floral quality that settled my stomach. When I drew another breath, the air smelled pleasant again.
“Thank you,” I said. “Where did you get that one from?”
“From the same apothecary. I thought something like this might happen.” Bleddyn squatted next to me, his arms resting on the top of his knees. “You are attuned to plants, it seems. Are you ready to pierce the veil now? Do you want to see the truth about Faerie?”