“I think she left the journal for me,” he finally continues. “In it, she said—she said that if anything happened to her, it would be because Mazus had stopped her heart. I think he killed her. I know he killed her. He brushed her death off as an accident as part of magical research they both willingly agreed to, but I don’t believe that for one second. Even at such a young age, I knew how much she hated him and feared his experimentation. And once I realized he killed her, all the lies he’d spun around himself unraveled.” I reach for him, placing my hand on his knee. It startles me, and I quickly pull my hand back. He stares at the spot I touched him for a moment, nostrils flaring.

“I’m sorry, Hawthorne.” The words sound hollow compared to his raw grief and vulnerability. I wish I were better at this, but I’ve had to lock so much of myself away for so long that I fear I’m not capable of true empathy.

“You should call me Thorne,” he says with one of his charming winks, changing the mood instantly. I suspect he too does not like to sit in his past for very long. “You know my biggest secret, all my daddy problems. That elevates you to nickname status.”

I laugh, loudly and involuntarily, and his eyes storm with emotion. I’m drawn into the dark green orbs that once filled my worst nightmares, but now only bring comfort and a lust I don’t understand. He pulls my hand into his and gently strokes my palm with his thumb, and I don’t pull away, greedy for his touch. Suddenly, I’m speaking, the compulsion to share more of myself with him overwhelming me.

“Your father… he killed my parents too. He told everyone it was me, but it wasn’t. I was there when it happened. His magic was stronger than theirs. He used aether-voice to force them to impale themselves with their own plant magic while I watched. As I looked at their too still faces, sobbing and praying they weren’t truly gone, he bowed to me. Bowed. Like he hadn’t just up ended my entire world. He said, ‘I’ll see you again soon, Your Majesty Queen Laurel.’ The way his eyes looked when he rose from that bow, full of so much glee, still haunts me most nights. Then he disappeared and left me an adolescent orphan Queen. The first time anyone called me Your Majesty, something I had foolishly dreamed about growing up, and it was him. After he murdered my parents using the aether-voice.”

“Is that why you don’t use the aether-voice much?” he asks, and I’m not even surprised he’s noticed. I only nod as he continues to soothe my palm with soft circles.