Page 42 of The Bound Mage
“I just—” Araya fumbled for a suitable explanation, her tongue tangling over her excuses. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to impose. I was just…trying to find somewhere no one would come looking for me.”
The older fae female wiped her hands on a towel, studying Araya with sharp blue eyes that seemed to read everything she’d left unsaid.
“Well, you’ve certainly found it,” she said finally. “No one comes down here unless they’re lost or hungry.”
Without waiting for a response, Veria turned back to the hearth, pouring a steaming cup of dark, fragrant tea into a chipped clay mug. She slid it across the table, adding a small plate with slivers of dried fruit and a thick heel of that dark bread.
“Sit,” she ordered, her tone brooking no argument when she saw Araya still hovering in the doorway. “A cup of tea always helps.”
Warily, Araya slid into the chair. She wrapped her fingers around the mug, the warmth of the tea seeping into her numb fingers. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Veria only hummed in acknowledgment, turning back to fuss over the pot of stew hanging over the fire. She muttered to herself in Valenya, flicking her fingers toward the workstation.
The knife rose into the air, setting to work chopping root vegetables. The neat cubes floated across the kitchen, bobbing gently before dropping into the rich brown stew. Veria tasted it, considering, but when she turned away the wooden spoon kept stirring the pot of its own accord.
Araya watched it all with wide eyes. No one in the New Dominion had magic to spare on something as simple ascooking. Humans hoarded their power, and food was something most fae were lucky to have at all. But this—this wasmagic.
“How are you doing that?” she asked, the question tumbling from her mouth before she could think better of it.
Veria paused, arching a brow. “It’s easier to show than explain,” she said. “Grab and apron and wash your hands. I hope you don’t mind a little hard work.”
Chapter
Seventeen
Veria wastwo hundred and seventy-three years old.
Araya had spent the better part of the week gathering the nerve to ask after the older female casually mentioned that she’d known Loren’s father before he became king. Veria had just laughed, answering easily as Araya struggled not to choke on her tea.
“I’ve helped raise two generations of royals.” Veria said with a laugh. “My mate worked in the palace in Tirnavel. With my skill at domestic magic, I was easily able to find a place of my own there. Corwin’s mother—Queen Kira—became a fast friend of mine. By the time Corwin and Lysa had their own children, it felt like we were part of the family.”
The words rolled easily off Veria’s tongue, but Araya’s mind reeled. Of course, she knew fae were long-lived—but one hardly ever sawoldfae in the New Dominion. How did a single heart carry the weight of so many lives? Centuries of memories, friendships, loss…Would all those faces blur together, or would the grief of losing them burn fresh, each and every time?
“So you knew Loren as a child?" Araya asked, unable to help the pang of curiosity. "And Eloria?"
“I did.” Veria smiled into her tea. “Both little troublemakers. Eloria was always the craftier one—she used her illusions to sneak sweets from the kitchen. I’d turn my back for just a moment, and entire trays would vanish.”
The image made Araya smile, though it was hard to picture the elegant and composed regent sneaking desserts like a child. Even if she must havebeena child at one point.
“And Loren,” Veria continued, “he and Thorne were inseparable. Brothers of the heart, we call them. They were always getting into things they shouldn’t, climbing trees, sneaking past the borders of the grounds. I couldn’t begin to count the number of times they came back far later than they should have, covered in dirt with leaves stuck in their hair.”
Araya frowned, trying to reconcile the image of a wild, carefree boy with the distant, unyielding male she knew. Had he just… grown up? Or had the Arcanum taken that boy and shattered him?
“Thalen and I were never blessed with children,” Veria said softly, pulling Araya’s attention back to the present. “But I loved those three like they were my own. There was a long time where I thought I would never see Loren again. I am very glad the Goddess brought the two of you together, and that you were able to lead him back to us.”
Araya’s throat tightened. She set her own cup down carefully, avoiding Veria’s gaze. “I’m not sure your Goddess had anything to do with it.”
“It’s not our place to question.” Some of Veria’s warmth faded—her face stern as she set her teacup down on its saucer. “These things happen as they are meant to, even when everything else is going wrong.”
Araya swallowed hard, the bond twinging in her chest. Loren had abandoned her here, even after all his grand words about how important it was that she learn control over her magic. ButAraya didn’t want to talk about it—not even with Veria, who Araya had quickly decided might be the nicest fae she’d met on this side of the Shadowed Veil.
“How long did it take you to learn all this?” Araya asked instead, nodding toward the workstation where a pale pastry dough thudded against the counter, folding and stretching itself as if shaped by invisible hands.
Veria glanced up from the tray of delicate flowers she’d started to work on. “I started manifesting my affinity around nine,” she said. “Just a spark of talent at first—warming tea, keeping the soup from burning. My mother thought I’d grow out of it and pick up something useful instead.”
“But you didn’t?”
“Goddess, no.” Veria chuckled, shaking her head. “By ten, I had the knives chopping vegetables on their own and was teaching the bread to braid itself. That’s when they knew my specialty would be domestic magic. It’s like that for most of us. Once we have a little control, our magic leans toward what we care most about. Some take to music, or a craft—Eloria’s mischief lent itself well to illusion. But me? I liked taking care of people. Still do.”
