“Nobody told you how this works?”
“Not that part, no,” I admitted grudgingly. There was nothing worse than ignorance. I should have asked more questions instead of being blinded by my desire to get home.
“If only it were that simple. Immortality is not something to be doled out like grain to the poor. It is a rare gift, and those in possession of it guard it fiercely. Idris is one of those few, but he didn’t use it on his wife. Rhodd Anfarwol we call it. The everlasting gift. It can only be given once. Idris and his wife agreed to wait. Their son was half-fae. Some take after their immortal parent, others… do not. Idris and Jane were waiting to see if their son was immortal. Most children begin to show magical tendencies in the toddler years. If Taryn did not, they planned for my brother to use Rhodd Anfarwol on the boy.”
“And did he?” I asked, barely daring to breathe.
Anwir shook his head. “Taryn was killed and Idris imprisoned before he had a chance to use it one way or another. Jane is dead, and we’ll never know if Taryn would have needed it at all. For all we know, he was immortal, and Idris missed his chance to save his wife. He will not use his power on you, Aliza. I’m sorry.”
He would not… what? I scrunched up my brow. “Me? What do you mean?”
“I don’t have it,” There was remorse in his eyes. Was it real? “I can’t make you immortal, even if you did choose to stay. To be mine.”
That wouldn’t happen, even if he could bribe me with eternal life. Despite that, disappointment settled over me like a cloud of fog. I’d always known my idle dreams of living forever had been just that… dreams, but the certainty that they were out of reach, an impossibility, hammered home just how much foolish, irrational hope I’d pinned on them.
“Idris could,” Anwir went on, “but he won’t. Not after he failed Taryn and Jane.”
It didn’t matter. I didn’t want it. If I said it enough, I might even start believing it.
“How do you know you don’t have the power?” I mused.
Anwir stared at me like I’d sprouted another head for long enough that I began to give up hope of an answer.
“Power must be balanced,” he said at last. “You’ve heard too many stories of my uncle, I think. He is unnatural. The rest of us are never as overpowered. I have my lightning. I suppose nature spent all of my power on that, leaving no room for Rhodd Anfarwol.”
It was just as well that I was going home, eventually. I wouldn’t have accepted immortality, especially not from Anwir, not when I had my normal, human life waiting for me. First, however, I had matters to take care of.
I rubbed my temple, massaging away the ache that had taken root. “Right, okay. Listen, I think I’ve decided to stay for a while. Do not think it has anything to do with you. But I’ll help you if I can, while I’m here.”
“You’ll stay?”
“For now. But… Anwir?” I hated asking him for anything, after what he’d done. “I want you to take me home, just for a visit. It’s just that, I’ve been gone so long already, and my parents don’t know what’s happened to me. If I could go back, just for a night, I could—”
“I can’t, Aliza.” Anwir stood, inching closer. “I wish it were different, truly, but fae have never been able to cross. I couldn’t take you. I couldn’t ensure your safety, or that you’d find your way safely back to Neath. The rifts are treacherous. It’s a miracle you made it here at all. I cannot risk you not coming back. I’m sorry.”
My stomach plummeted. He’d promised he would escort me home after the ball. What had changed? “A witch then, if you can’t go. I’m sure if you asked, one of them could–”
“Witches aren’t powerful enough to protect you.”
“They were powerful enough to keep me alive long enough to find you.” With every passing minute, my regret that my kiss had woken both princes grew.
Anwir gave his head a regretful shake. “Not in the human world. Magic is weaker there. I’m sorry, Aliza, but until my uncle is defeated, I can’t allow you to take unnecessary risks.”
No doubt he classed drinking wine as an unnecessary risk too. It was only a matter of time before he suggested that my shorts didn’t offer enough protection for my legs and decreed that I wear sensible trousers or a dowdy skirt.
“You will go home soon, I swear,” he pressed, his voice imploring.
Had he forgotten that I was the one who’d decided to stay? I could have gone home a week ago if I’d pushed for it. I could go home now. I would, if it hadn’t been for last night. I couldn’t fix Idris’ trauma or grief, it wasn’t in my professional repertoire, but the fact was, he needed someone to be with him while he navigated his grief. Though he'd tried valiantly to push everyone away, this wasn’t something he should face alone. The thoughts he’d had last night were normal for someone in his position. He just needed time, and a friend. As far as I could see, he didn’t have one here, but maybe he knew some of the fae in Tir o Gaeaf. Maybe he just needed time to reconnect with his support network.
I wouldn’t be here forever.
“I’m offering to help you, Anwir. You need me, apparently. If crossing the rifts is too dangerous for me, the least you can do is send a witch to pass on a message,” I insisted. He would agree, or I would leave under my own steam. I couldn’t stay if it meant abandoning my parents. I’d only send them spiralling into the same depression I wanted to guide Idris through, if they weren’t already in it. What if they had the same thoughts as Idris? My innards turned to ice. No, they wouldn’t go down that road, not while my body was still unaccounted for. They wouldn’t give in, not while there was still the slightest ray of hope. “I could tell the witch where to find them. I could send something of mine, and a letter, to let them know I’m okay.”
Anwir eyed me doubtfully, but I could almost see the cogs in his mind turning. I’d have liked to picture them straining to turn, lodged with rust from lack of use, but in reality, his mind was a well-oiled machine. He was scheming and manipulative. His doubtful expression was probably fake, part of his deception. I waited with bated breath.
“Very well,” he conceded. “I can agree to that.”
My strangled sound that burst from my throat was half laugh, half sob. With a violent wobble of relief, my knees threatened to buckle, and I slumped against the windowsill. They’d know I was alive, that I was coming home. A tear plunged down my cheek. I dashed it away before Anwir could see.
“Okay,” I breathed, barely able to get the word out. “Good. Find a witch, and I’ll bring a letter to your room this afternoon.”
With news of my continued existence, my parents could wait a little while longer to see me in the flesh. They’d understand, when I got back and explained everything. They’d probably have me committed, but they’d understand. I straightened, sliding past Anwir.
“In the meantime, make a start on overthrowing your uncle.”
“Wait,” he called. “Where are you going?”
I didn’t bother to look back as I marched across the room.
I had another prince to find.
31Did We Just Become Best Friends?
Ihovered in the shade of the stone archway leading out to the courtyard, unnoticed by Idris, who lounged on a nearby bench, sketching. I couldn’t see his face, but there was no mistaking him. The sun bounced off his raven hair, revealing subtle shimmers of deepest purple and green in the dark strands. I’d never noticed the colours before.
My stomach flipped, telling me to abandon my plan and turn back, but I clutched my parcel and forced myself to approach.
“Hi,” I said softly as I drew near.
