Delia Prance's Arc

Chapter 50 of 59

The glowing flowers still bloomed across the courtyard. Delia stood at the window and watched their light not fade. She had hoped the shaking would end and the blooms would die with it. They did not. Every noble in the hall could see them through the glass. And every noble now knew the magic had come from her. One noble pushed to the front. He held an old book against his chest, its cover cracked and stained. He had run to fetch it. He opened it now and stabbed a finger at a page. "I know this," he said. His voice climbed. "It is written here. Flowers that bloom from stone at the touch of true blood. This is elf magic. She is elf-blooded. It says so plainly." He turned the page toward the room. "Magic we were told died out. And it lives in her." The hall went loud. Some nobles stepped back from Delia. One woman covered her mouth. Delia felt the old fear rise, the fear she had carried since she found the family tree in her grandmother's cottage. The secret was out. She could not lie it back into the dark. Nick moved. He stepped in front of her, between her and the shouting noble. He set his shoulders square. "That is your queen," he said. His voice was flat and hard. "Speak of her with care." He did not raise it. He did not need to. The crown sat fresh on his black hair. Delia touched his back. She would not hide behind him. But she let him stand there, because he had promised. Every step together. Then King Rowan spoke. He had said nothing since the floor shook. He walked to the window and looked at the glowing blooms a long time. His face did not change. He never smiled, and he did not smile now. But his eyes were wet. "I was told magic was gone," Rowan said. "When I was a boy, they told me it left the world forever." He turned from the glass. "It did not leave. It slept. And it woke under this palace for her." He faced the room. "I am glad," he said. Plain. Once. The noble with the book lowered it slowly. A few nobles near him nodded, and their faces eased. But not all. Delia saw the others. A cluster near the door drew close and spoke behind their hands. One looked at her the way a man looks at a wolf in a pen. They were afraid, and fear did not nod along with a king. Rowan lifted his chin. "She is elf-blooded. So is my house now, through my son. Let it be known and let it stand." Delia's secret was gone. The whole court knew her blood. Rowan had made it law, not shame. But half the room feared her, and fear would look for a way to end her. Her sanctuary was safe today. Tomorrow those frightened nobles would come for it.