Meet me, it says. Same time. Same place. We need to talk.
I sit up abruptly. How did it get in here? Mother’s encampment is almost more formidable than a prison when she’s at camp.
I’ve never seen that writing before, but I know who it belongs to. There’s an impatient slant to the letters as if it was written in a hurry.
Or as if he wrote it several times before screwing up each individual attempt, and finally jotted down the basics.
We need to talk.
My heart skips a beat. To meet him is foolish and dangerous.
But it I don’t, then what will he do? What will he say?
Will he tell my mother?
Was I right? Is this revenge?
Or just the opening play in a sick and twisted game?
He holds a knife to my throat with this knowledge, and I need to know how to protect myself from it.
It’s not difficult to slip away from the Asturian camp.
The guards are all watching without.
And I’m the invisible daughter.
Throwing a cloak over my shoulders, I draw the hood over my hair and then slip into the forest, avoiding the bonfires and revelry as much as I can.
The little bower where I lay with the Prince of Evernight stands empty. There’s no one nearby, the party having moved closer to the lake. I don’t know if that’s an ominous sign or not.
Crickets chirp as I pace back and forth.
The moon picks out every single night-blooming Sorrow flower. They slowly unfurl, opening their faces to its soft light, little firefly lights dancing around their petals. Demi-fey by the look of it, stealing nectar until they’re Sorrow-drunk.
“You came.”
I spin around, one hand dropping to the hilt of the knife sheathed at my hip and the other staring into the shadows beneath the trees. My heart pounds with a mix of dread and something I can’t name. “Of course, I came.”
How could I not?
He can ruin me with a single sentence.
The same way he ruined me with a kiss.
“I didn’t think you were going to,” he says. “You would barely look at me today.”
“I was trying not to give myself away. You didn’t seem to have any such compunctions. Come into the light.”
Thiago seems to melt out of the shadows. Black leather encases his chest and shoulders in woven strips that delineate each hard muscle. His cloak flows down his back. The entire outfit is stark and imposing, the impact of it only heightened by the fact he towers over me. There’s no sign of a crown. No rings. Not a single hint that he’s royal.
He doesn’t need them.
He makes Etan look like some sort of dandelion seed of a lad, pampered and spoiled and soft.
Power lingers in the direct look he gives me. The predator is leashed for the moment, but there’s a hint of hunger in his eyes. I saw that look last night, as if he wanted to consume me. It’s there again right now, and I can’t help feeling the slick of heat that traces wet fingers between my thighs.
I can feel him again, teeth sinking into my shoulder as he thrusts inside me, a roughened growl echoing in his throat—
And no, I’m not thinking of that.
I can’t afford to.
Because that was last night, when he was merely a handsome stranger.
And now he’s the enemy with a knife at my throat.
“We need to talk.” His expression locks down, hard and tight.
It’s like the words set me free. I hold up the note between two fingers. “So you said.”
“Last night—”
“Last night was a mistake.” I curl the note into my fist as he steps closer to me. “I had no idea who you were.” My breath catches, but I have to ask. “Did you know?”
“No.” Feral heat lights up his eyes as he leans toward me. “Not until this morning when I saw that fucking mark on your back when you slipped from my arms.”
He could be lying.
I swallow, trying to force my reckless heartbeat to steady.
“What are you going to do?” Somehow, my voice comes out crisp and cool. I’ve spent years watching my mother rule her court. I reach down deep inside myself and summon the part of her that’s within me.
I am a princess of Asturia, and if you expect me to beg for mercy, then you shall be left wanting.
His eyes narrow as if he’s sorting through my words. “Do?”
“You hold the winning cards in your hand,” I say coldly. “But I warn you that my mother won’t take kindly to the knowledge of what happened between us.”
“I didn’t think she would.”
“She won’t cede Mistmark to you. Not for me.”
“That’s what you think I’m here for?” Anger roughens his voice and he takes a step toward me. “You think this has anything to do with your mother?”
“You came for me.” I can see it all over again. “The second you saw my face across the clearing you came for me as if you knew me. Tell me this isn’t some sort of game. Tell me that you didn’t think to use me against my mother.”
“I. Had. No. Idea.” His eyes look almost black in the night. “And if I was going to play a game with your mother, then I certainly wouldn’t play this one.” His expression retreats into itself. “It’s only bound to cause more pain than pleasure.”
I can’t help noticing he doesn’t say no.
Lies are difficult for the fae. It creates a world where we step carefully around our words.
“I don’t believe you. I’m not that beautiful.” It’s something I’ve been hearing all my life. Smaller than my mother and sister. Dark of hair and eyes, where they’re tall, slim and golden. “I’ve hardly got the kind of face that would set kings to war over me. But you took one look at me, and you wanted me. Tell me the truth.”
“It is the truth.” For the first time he looks discomforted. “You are beautiful. You took my breath the first moment I saw you. I could barely speak for want of you.” He shakes his head a little savagely. “You have no idea the kind of warmth your smile lights within me.”
My heart knots up very tight and small at the words.
I thought I’d grown used to being unloved. I’d hardened the callus around my heart, and told myself I didn’t care for such emotions. Kindness is a weakness. Friendship a dream. And love is a peculiar kind of torture.
But it’s like Thiago somehow senses the chink in my shields, because I feel those words in my heart like rain after a long endless run of drought.
“I looked at you and I was helpless to stay away, helpless to resist.” He rakes his hand through his hair a little savagely. “You want the truth, Princess? Then here it is. Wanting you is the worst thing that could ever happen to me. Your mother captured a very dear friend of mine. My intentions when I arrived at the queensmoot was to get my friend back at any cost. I even jokingly suggested to my friends that kidnapping you and using you as a bargaining chip might be an option.”
I step away from him sharply.
Thiago holds his hands up in surrender. “I would never do that. It was a joke. A stupid fucking joke the gods must have been listening to. Meeting you—what happened between us last night—is like taking a sword to my plans and obliterating them. If your mother realizes I laid one hand on your head, she’ll slit Finn’s throat and deliver his head to me. I can’t afford that. I shouldn’t be here, talking to you right now. I shouldn’t have stared at you this afternoon. I should pretend we’d never met and walk away and forget you.”