Page 23 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood
He nods. “Yes.”
“You rule the Underworld?”
He tilts his head, the right side of his mouth curving upward. “Mmhm.”
“How can this be real? You? We’ve always been told things like this are just fairy tales. There’s no such thing as magical beings.”
“You’re the daughter of one of the Epimeliads, and you can resurrect animals yet you still believe there is no such thing as magic?”
“What are Epimeliads?”
His brows knit. “Tree nymphs. Usually tied to a place by a specific tree. Though, they seem to be more mobile these days.”
I blink at him.
“The Epimeliads protect apple trees specifically, but your mother appears to have a knack for all things green.”
“My mother? A tree nymph?” It sounds crazy.
“You didn’t know?”
My thoughts turn to the apple tree. “A rare golden apple tree appeared in the castle the day I was born.” I speak mainly to myself. As far as I know, no other tree with such unique apples exists. We’ve always been aware of my mother’s talent for growing things, but I never considered she was some type of mythical creature. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
“She may not know. This is a kingdom where most magic has been forgotten or lost. Her people likely live elsewhere now.” Harrow’s tone is far too casual for someone who just told me my mother is not fully human.
“Wait, are you saying there are kingdoms that still have magic? How can that be possible?”
“There are so many things you humans believe to be farce that are, in fact, true. Your mortal mind would crack trying to comprehend everything that’s out there.”
“Like what? What things are out there?” I lean into him, as if I could glean the information to sate my curiosity purely through proximity.
“Immortal rulers with entire populations hidden beneath the sea. Kingdoms where dragons rule the skies and scorch the earth. Dark lands where vampires take to the night, sustaining their youth with the blood of the beautiful. Even most of the ‘normal’ mortal realms have magical beings woven within. Some remain hidden, others use their abilities either to help and heal, or to curse and harm. Magic in its many forms is as unique as you.”
“Dragons and vampires?” My mind is racing.
Harrow gives me an exasperated sigh, tucking a strand of loose white hair behind my ear. “Is that all you heard?”
The gentleness of the touch brings heat to my cheeks. “Uh, yeah. It was kind of hard to hear anything else after that. Do you know those types of, er,people?” I’m not sure if people is the right term.
“I’ve known a few. The dragons I’ve met have egos that are almost too big for their giant bodies. Vampires are temperamental on the best days but they’re loyal under the right circumstances. I prefer simple magic.” His words are way too nonchalant.
“How is it none of us regular people?—”
“You’re not aregularperson, Roseheart,” Harrow interrupts. “You have the ability to resurrect animals. How long have you been able to do that?”
Drumming my fingers against my lap, I decide to ignore his question. I have no interest in reliving that horrible experience today or explaining it to anyone.
“When I say aregular person, you know what I mean. How come we’ve never stumbled upon a dragon guarding a treasure horde or a vampire flying through the night sky?”
Harrow chuckles lightly. “Magic, of course. The wards surrounding many of those places do their jobs exceptionally well. If you get too close and you don’t belong, you’ll suddenlyfeel the need to turn the other direction. Sometimes you’ll be physically unable to cross a border.”
That’s interesting. If what he says is true, we may have encountered magical lands multiple times but been too blinded by magic, or those wards, to see. “Where do you fit in with all of this?”
“Me? I can go where I please. I’m not bound by the same rules as mortals. There are no wards to keep me out, only very specific spells. But rest assured, I always find my way past those spells, and whoever is on the other end will suffer greatly when they reach my domain.” Goosebumps run along my arms. I could swear the temperature drops around us.
He really is something else. It’s still so hard to imagine he’s the Prince of Death. I look him up and down. In these simple clothes, he seems so close to normal. “Where are your wings?”
I haven’t stopped thinking of those scars since I touched them. I want to ask him what happened, to tell him I understand what it’s like to carry those types of marks.
