Being related to royalty has several perks no matter how distant they were on the family tree. Despite being a bastard child, Cian was acknowledged by the queen for his talent at magic and was allowed to use the family name thanks to her. 

Before she became Queen Bethany Aethelstan, she was his cousin Lady Bethany Rosaire. Despite being only second cousins, they were close as two peas in a pod and would often get in trouble together when they were young. Their fathers were like brothers to each other and they would spend countless summers and winters in each other’s company. He had hoped that perhaps they could be wed one day, but that was a dream he knew would never come to fruition.

He was a bastard son and she was the crown jewel of the noble Rosaire family. Beautiful and smart, she was a lady sought after by many men. Men she kept turning down until one day, Bethany greeted him with the brightest smile on her face. She was going to marry the crown prince whom she danced with in the previous ball. “It was love at first sight,” she said.

It was painful to watch her leave his side, but he wanted to be happy for her. He truly did, but the jealousy gnawed at his heart whenever he saw the couple dancing together at balls and smiling happily with their sons Mikhail and Jabril.

It would be a lie if he said he didn’t have a favorite between the two royal brothers. It was clear to anyone with eyes that he doted on Jabril the most. Prince Jabril with his fiery red hair and pitch black eyes was the spitting image of his beautiful mother, whereas the crown prince took after his father with the exception of his mother’s amethyst eyes.

Cian was lucky that his kind father took him in when his mother, a lowly maid of the household, was banished by his step mother when she found out about the affair. His half siblings taunted and bullied him, saying he would be kicked out of the house once he came of age.

No one would be willing to marry a bastard child and his stepmother made sure that anyone who dared even show him the slightest favors would know her displeasure. His father looked away at the mistreatment. He felt guilty at having cheated on his wife and let her do as she pleased, but was kind enough to ensure Cian didn’t starve out in the streets.

His step mother hated his very existence up until he became the royal mage. That’s when she began to boast about him as if he grew up in her loving care. Cian hated her with a burning passion and would love nothing more than to rip her golden hair off her head and poke her blue eyes out of their sockets, but he had to contain himself and smile pleasantly whenever they were in the same room.

Oh, how he wished he inherited the blood red hair the Rosaire family was known for, but sadly, what he got instead was the mousy hair of his lowly mother. 

If he had red hair, he could fit right in with the Rosaire family. He wouldn’t have felt so outcast during gatherings, or feel relieved when his dearest Jabril – who had a fragile heart, cried when his uncle was ordered to follow the crown prince into the Rose Garden. Those tears made Cian feel welcomed and loved.

The beautiful red roses reminded him of his beloved Bethany and Jabril. Their beauty was gentle and fragile with the sweetest of scents. It was a pity that he had to destroy them all to get to the fairy who challenged him.

He muttered a spell and threw a fireball at another rose bush. A barrier blocked a stray thorn thrown at him. 

Cian knew prince Mikhail did not think much of him or his spells. He knew the king was unimpressed with him considering how he grew up with the late royal mage as his teacher, but it did not change the fact that he is the most powerful mage in their country. Mikhail was taught personally by the king while Cian taught the spare prince Jabril.

Magic was something that came easy to him. Using magic was like breathing, thus he had a hard time teaching Mikhail the basics. How can he teach someone how to breathe? A skill that came naturally to any being? It was impossible, Mikhail did not have the same talent for magic as his younger brother. Jabril on the other hand, understood magic the same as him. He was a natural talent and should be the one to inherit the throne.

Cian really hoped the prince died during this campaign or even eloped with that bard who had been visiting his tent every night. It would save him the heartache of having to watch Bethany break down when she found out her first born son died. At least if Mikhail decided to run away with a foolish bard to some distant country, she could still hope for his eventual return.

The fairy sat on a giant rose, her legs crossed over each other as she observed the mage struggle. She hasn’t spoken ever since Cian stumbled upon her in this labyrinth of flowers. She looked at him and attacked. 

Cian panted as he slowly ran out of mana. The barrage of thorns was never ending as he took a step back and lifted a thick layer of earth up to act as his temporary shield. He needed to regain his calm before his magical barrier broke. A mage without a barrier might as well be a dead mage.

“You…” the fairy said, her voice soft but her gaze harsh. “... are not worthy to pass this trial.”

Those harsh words made something within Cian snap. 

All his life, he hasn’t been worthy of anything. He wasn’t worthy of his father’s kindness, nor was he worthy of Bethany’s friendship and love. He did not deserve his position as the royal mage, much less the family name Rosaire. The nobility whispered their insults behind his back, not caring if he heard them or not. In their eyes, he was nothing but a lowly bastard and womanizer. So what if he frequented the brothels to feel loved? It was none of their business if he wasn’t ready to give away his heart.

“I’ll show you my worth,” he said with a glare.

He whipped out his wand and transformed it into the thinnest needle. This was a spell lost to time. A spell that will give immense power equal to the desires in one's heart. It was black magic that will consume the mind, body and soul.

Cian pierced the needle into his forehead, a small trail of blood dripped down his face and to his lips. He licked it away with a manic grin. A thin slit took shape on his forehead, right where the needle was. This slit grew larger and larger until it transformed into the shape of an eye.

For the first time, the fairy changed her expression. She stood up from her rose flower with fear in her eyes.

“I’ll show you my worth!” he growled. He could feel the enormous energy flow through him. With a single point of a finger, fire burst out so massive and hot it disintegrated the plants around him instantly.

The fairy summoned a huge tree in front of her to act as a barrier and flew high up in the sky. The maze she worked so hard to maintain was in shambles.

She put her hands together and summoned her flowers. Lilies, jasmine, lavender and roses, all at once they released the cloying scent of blossoms to cover up the smell of burnt wood. The smell had a special property that caused people to faint or get dizzy.

Cian covered his mouth and nose with the sleeves of his robes when the suspicious smell surrounded him. There was no way the fairy who tried to kill him did not have anything nefarious planned with them.

Flying was an extremely advanced skill only a handful of people in history managed to master. One of them was the late royal mage. But there are several ways to pull down winged creatures from the sky. Cian summoned a large gust of wind to not only clear the air of the stink of flowers, but also to fling the fairy around.

The fairy landed with a harsh thud, a gasp escaped her lips as she struggled to stand up. Her red dress was in tatters and her golden hair in disarray. Cian stepped on her wings and grinded them with his feet, rendering the fragile appendages unusable.

She screamed.

“I told you, I’ll show you my worth,” he said with a menacing grin and a frenzied glint in his eyes. “You always looked down on me! Always, always, always! Even though I worked so hard to get your approval, you always sneered at me!”

The fairy looked at him in confusion as he pierced her hands into the ground with stone spikes to stop her writhing. Cian straddled her, putting all of his weight against her. “I just wanted us to be a family! Was that too much to ask for?”

Cian ripped off the red choker on the woman below him, he touched her neck gently with the tips of his fingers and for a moment, the flower fairy thought he would show her mercy.

The third eye on his forehead glowed red like the color of roses, the color of blood, the color of Bethany's hair.

He squeezed her will to live and the life out of her.