It seeded beneath my palm, growing roots to secure itself to the soil, and pushed through the grass. “I miss peaches,” I whispered, my brow furrowing. “I miss home.”
“Me, too,” Sol agreed, his words a breath on the wind. “But I can never go back.”
“Why?” I asked, my creation growing in my mind, boasting vitality and scenting the air around us. “Why can’t you go home, Sol?”
“Because there’s nothing left,” he grumbled. “The plague has taken everyone I love. There’s no one for
me to go back to.”
“Why is it spreading?” I asked, not understanding. “If Ophelia is dead, how are more fae falling ill?”
“Because it’s not her.” Sol’s tone sounded pained, causing my eyes to flutter open in concern. His eyes were on the tree I’d unknowingly blossomed, the leaves budding as if in the heat of spring. Several other students were gaping at my creation, most of them staring in awe. “That’s very impressive, Claire. But it’s not the assignment.”
My branches sprouted with life, my desire to taste a peach taunting my tongue. It all came so naturally, so unexpectedly, that I giggled when the first hint of little green pits developed on the tree.
“What is it?” a soft voice asked.
Aflora.
Her wide blue eyes gazed lovingly at my creation, her lips parting as a peach fully developed before her.
“A fruit tree from my childhood,” I said.
“It’s beautiful,” she praised. “May I touch it?”
I nodded, biting my lip, uncertain of what else to say. But the petite fae seemed too lost in the masterpiece hanging over my head to care for words. She stroked the tree with adoration, several others wandering over to join her.
Sol watched without a word, a strange spark of energy in his earthy gaze.
Had I messed this up? I wasn’t trying to garner attention, or to even create a tree; it just sort of happened. “My control needs work, too,” I mumbled, wringing my hands in my lap.
He didn’t reply but stood to reach the highest branch and plucked a fresh peach. Several fae watched as he sampled the fruit of my labor, their expressions anticipatory. He took another bite, chewing, his brow furrowed. “It’s sweet.”
“It’s a peach,” I replied, confused.
“I like it.” He shrugged and grabbed another to toss to Aflora. She caught it with a furious blush and skipped away, her long black hair waving in the wind. A few others held out a hand, and he tossed each of them a peach from the branches above, then dropped one into my lap before taking a second for himself. “The fruit in the assignment is supposed to be dry and bland, not sweet. I prefer your creation.”
“Why would anyone want to eat a bland fruit?” I wondered aloud, taking a small bite of my peach.
So, so good.
I sent up a request for more, and the tree responded immediately.
This is so much better than a vortex, I thought.
“Apparently, it’s good for cooking,” Sol said, grimacing. “Not my favorite. This is much better.”
His magic brushed mine as he took control of one of my branches and forced it to lower to him so he could pluck several more peaches. The tree groaned as he released his mental hold, the leaves and sticks flying upward with a snap that shook the earth.
He cringed. “Sorry.”
I soothed the earth, healing the fractures he’d caused within my creation, and smiled. “You’re powerful.”
“Yeah.” He waved his hand, causing a new stump to form and grow. “Vox is helping me learn how to foster and maintain it, but I grow stronger every day. It’s like I’m constantly absorbing energy, but I’m only one fae and I don’t have anywhere to release it all.”
My element reached out to his without thinking, blending into his life force as if searching for a way to ease him like I did the tree.
He flinched, his gaze widening. “What are you doing?”