Seven Courts of Love and Magic

Chapter 37

Zaria

I throw my skirt behind me, leaning down to uncover more roots to place in my basket. I relish the feeling of dirt under my finger nails, the sun beating against the back of my neck, albeit rather weakly. I dig my heel solidly into the dirt for leverage, pulling out another root.

"What are you up to?" I whirl at the voice, kicking the basket behind me.

"Lucien." I say his name with seething resentment.

He crosses his arms in front of him, raising his eyebrows. "You're mad."

"Of course, I'm mad. You told him everything, you ratted me out."

"You stole from me." His voice is stern, reminding me of when I was younger and I would run around the manor house. Tamlin would send Lucien to scold me at times, and I preferred it, knowing Lucien could never truly be mad at me.

I set my jaw. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"My crown." He pronounces each word precisely. "Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

I shrug, feigning innocence.

"Oh don't be daft, Zaria. It's beneath you."

I throw my arms out with exasperated fatigue. "Oh alright. So, I stole a stupid stone from your crown, what's the big deal. I replaced it, didn't I?" I throw my head back with a sigh. "Why is no one focused on the matter at hand. Namely, the fact that we're all dying. I'm trying to save us all."

Lucien averts his eyes. "We're taking care of it."

"Oh, are you? How?" I place my hands on my hips. He says nothing and I scoff, turning to the creek at the end of the field and the basket at my feet.

"Tamlin is dying."

My head turns, my insides frozen. "We all are," I say slowly.

"No, I mean that he's worse than he looks. It could be any day now, any minute. He didn't want me to worry you, but it's the reason he was insistent you come home."

I grind my teeth, holding back hot tears. "Can't you see, this is exactly why I can't be here right now. Am I meant to just sit here and watch him die?" I shake my head, adding quietly. "Forget it. I'll find another way."

"Is that what you intend to do with those roots?" He nods to the woven basket nestles in the dying yellow grass.

I shrug again. "I'm just trying to save what's left of my court. It's the least I could do."

Lucien smirks, turning to leave. "Right. Just do me a favor, don't use it on me. It upsets my stomach." He eyes me knowingly. "I'll fake it. It's the least you could do, after stealing from me." He struts away with a wink, leaving me staring after him.

——————

We sit at the dinner table, the three of us, yet there are four place settings—one on either side of the table. Tamlin never stopped setting a place for my mother. I've never even seen her sitting at this table.

There is plenty of food before us, a feast for my welcome home dinner, although with the anxiety troubling my stomach I have no appetite, and I don't feel very welcoming.

"You've barely touched your meal, Zaria." No, but you're eating well.

"How can I eat at a time like this," I mutter into my plate, pushing the strawberries in my salad around with my fork. They're mushy, I twist my mouth.

My father sighs. "Zaria, please." I look up, noticing the black circles around his eyes and his hollow cheeks. Lucien gives me a pointed look and I feel a stab of guilt. This could be your last meal with him. I hurdle the thought away.

"Why didn't you tell me—that you're sick?" Lucien looks in my direction, an expression of betrayal. "We're even now," I mutter at him.

"I didn't want to worry you." His eyes bore into his plate of unfinished food.

I slam my fork down. "Well consider me worried, dad! And not only for you, but for all of Prythian."

"I just wanted you to be safe." He falters on the last word. My heart aches.

He clears his throat, taking a sip of water. My eyes snap between him and Lucien, who is just fine. I granted him his wish but he doesn't put up an unnecessary charade.

My father's head falls forward, straight into his salad. I small laugh escapes my lips, out of my control. My hand snaps up to my mouth. Lucien rolls his eyes and moves over him. "Go, I'll take care of it."

Swiftly, I rise out of the wooden chair. "Lucien."

"Don't worry. I'll keep him here as long as possible." He looks up at me from where he's bent over, scraping lettuce from Tamlin's cheek. "He'll be okay. Go make us proud," he says smugly.

I smile in gratitude and rush out of the dining room.