Callidus's shock deepened as he stared at the flickering wall of fire surrounding his feet. It was an unsettling sight, as he felt the air being consumed by the flames.
On the opposite side of the table, the Queen's smile transformed into a self-satisfied smirk. She fully relaxed in her chair, her voice a soft, condescending murmur. "Surprised, Your Highness?" she purred.
Callidus, caught in the thrall of the unnerving spectacle, was unable to form words.
"It appears you have just come to realize that you're not the sole Manipulation Magicborne in this room. I imagine this is a novel experience for you, not being the most powerful person present."
The flames surrounding him continued to ascend, their intensity growing as they spiraled upward. The heat skimmed his skin, riding the fine line between discomfort and pain. A sense of awe overcame him, similar to the feeling when he fell under Cressida's magical influence.
"Fire and air, Your Highness," she said, her voice almost hypnotic as she spoke. "They're elements that complement each other. Fire needs air to breathe, and air fans the flames. You'd do well to remember that."
With shallow, rapid breaths, Callidus finally found his voice. "Why didn't you raise me?"
The Queen's smug expression faltered, "...pardon?"
Callidus raised his head from the flames to meet Queen Conitine's gaze.
And his mother's eyes looked back at him.
"We have the same magic," he breathed. "Why didn't you raise me? Why didn't you save my mother from Windridge? Why didn't you take me to Meross? I could have been normal. I could have been your heir. I could have-"
Callidus's impassioned words were abruptly severed, overwhelmed by a surge of emotions that welled up within him.
The mere thought of what could have been - a life of normalcy, an ordinary upbringing, a chance to court Cressida without the looming shadow of his past - consumed him.
He imagined faceless figures of staff treating him with respect, what he had longed for since childhood, when he watched Ferox play in the courtyard. He imagined walking with his mother in a garden, a bed of larkspurs, and a fountain.
He imagined-
In an instant, he slammed his air down, snuffing out the flames like a candle, leaving behind only the faintest wisp of smoke. Simultaneously, the lanterns adorning the room were extinguished, allowing only the soft dawn's glow to stream in through the window. The abrupt lack of heat and light left the room feeling oddly cold.
The Queen's confident demeanor wavered, her eyes narrowing as she witnessed Callidus's power in action.
"Despite your affinity for air," she observed, her voice laced with wary curiosity, "you have quite the fiery temper, don't you, Nephew?"
Callidus, breathing heavily, felt a profound sense of loss, his unanswered questions lingering in the smoky air.
"Why, Your Majesty?" Callidus's voice cracked, raw with emotion. "Why did you leave me in Windridge? Why didn't you raise me as your own? I am your sister's son. Why did you let me suffer?"
Memories of Roslindis, her poignant confession, haunted him. He could still hear her voice echoing in his mind, heavy with regret. 'I chose not to love you. I can offer you no excuses.'
The Queen's gaze remained fixed on Callidus; her eyes empty as she watched the storm of emotions playing out on his face. After a prolonged silence, she finally spoke.
YOU ARE READING
Book Two: The Larkspur's Longing ~ A tale of deep obsession and devotion
Romance(Sequel to The Marigold's Larkspur) Crown Prince Callidus finds himself on the cusp of achieving his dreams. With Princess Cressida by his side, the woman he has long yearned for, their future seems promising. However, a formidable obstacle threaten...
