What am I thinking? He’s a beast. Unnatural. Dangerous. Horrible.
And beautiful.
With a shake of my head, I snap myself out of his spell, for it must be a glamor he’s using to entrance me, to seduce me into doing his bidding. What were we arguing about? Oh yes. That’s right. Nothing. “And you know nothing about me,” I counter.
Silver beams track down to my boots, then slowly up to my face. “You’d be surprised what I know about you.”
“Oh, really—”
“Please, Ever,” says Kian. “Get the bedding of this strange little thing over and done with. The tension revolts me.”
Ever’s head jerks toward his friend. “She is not a thing.”
“Whatever you say.” Kian waves a hand through the air, gold dust trailing behind. It figures he’d have earth magic. “Just get it over with and put us all out of our misery.”
Running fingers through his messy hair, Ever seems lost for words. I wait for him to speak, but the silence soon becomes unbearable.
“Feel free to stand there like a spoiled brat,” I say. “Let me know when you’ve decided my punishment for helping your subjects, the elves. In the meantime, I’m going to change out of my wet clothes. Thanks for drenching the whole kingdom in your bad mood this morning, Prince of Never.”
I stalk off, my breath tight as I wait to see or feel what he’ll do to me. Throw a sword at my head maybe? Or suck my lungs dry?
Twenty steps toward the garden gate and nothing happens. As the gate’s metal hinges creak, the rhythmic clash of swords starting again behind me is music to my ears.
I think I might live to see another day.
Chapter 15
THE GAME
Ever
“Prince Ever, whose horns do you prefer? My shining silver ones or Melusina’s that are blackened with use and age?” asks the one-eyed imp stretched across my lap.
Sprawled opposite on a low divan, Raff laughs. “Seven,” he scolds the imp, pointing an unsteady finger at her. “My brother adores each and every set of horns in the kingdom, no matter their condition. Do not make him choose one above the other.”
A grin tugs at my lips as Raff overbalances and tumbles onto the rich-gold swirls of his floor tapestry, three barely dressed courtiers piling on top.
Gulping dandelion wine, I hold the gaze of the girl’s single black eye as she straddles my hips. “My brother is correct, sweet Seven. I have no favorite style of horns. Though your new silver ones suit you well.” At least I think they suit her. Right now, they’re a little out of focus.
Stroking the point of my ear, she leans in, her lips warm and slick as she kisses me. When her mouth opens like she wants to devour me whole, I push her away and sigh, searching for a riot of bright red waves in the mass of limbs and wings writhing in my brother’s chambers.
Finding no such locks, I ask, “Where is Kian?”
“Oh,” trills the imp, all seven colors of the rainbow flickering over her spiked wings, hence her name. “He left nearly an hour ago. He went to speak to the human girl.”
“What?” Suddenly, I’m on my feet, Seven scowling up at me from the floor where she has toppled. “An hour ago, you say?”
“Yes. What of it? Be seated, my prince.” Her black tongue flicks over her lips. “I will be yours tonight.”
“An enticing offer, Seven. Another time perhaps,” I say.
Glass and trinkets crush under my boots as I weave clumsily to the latticed metal doors, drunk on wine and pain and longing. Longing for what exactly, I do not know.
“You’re not leaving already?” complains Raff, removing his attention from a girl decorated in cherry blossoms, her dark scaly wings fanning his face like he’s the emperor of all that is—Rafael, the King of Always.
“I have business with Kian,” I tell him, working to suppress my slur.
“Oh? And what is that precisely?”
Damn. I search my wine-soaked brain for a plausible answer. “I need to discuss mage-control plans for Samhain.” Among other things.
“Surely, that can wait until tomorrow when your heads are clearer.”
“What I must speak about,” which is, of course, the wasp, “simply cannot wait a moment longer.”
“Then I wish you a good tedious night.” Spark screeches and leaps from the curtains onto Raff’s shoulders, baring her teeth at me. Sometimes, the creature has no sense of self-preservation.
Courtiers execute bows from contorted positions as I take my leave, abandoning them to their perversions.
In the hallway that links the five wings of the royal chambers together, a Samhain feast tapestry taunts me from the walls, reminding me that in less than a week, I will have to fight the Merit prince to keep the human at our court.
Rumor has it the Merits have decided I must wear one of their moronic pendants around my neck, and popular vote will determine the outcome of the contest. I can best Temnen at swords, but I don’t know how to make people like me. The thought that I may lose is sickening.
Chest aching, I stride down the hall imagining all the wretched ways Kian might be using the girl.
This minute, he will be in Lara’s room. He will be doing unspeakable things to her. Why? Because he’s always loved to break what is mine.
A massive fluorite staircase winds before me, greens and purples shimmering like a galactic sky as I fly down each step. When I reach the third landing, I catch the trail of the mortal’s scent, and freeze. The air is mine, and the wasp is too. I will find her easily.
Palms up and fingers splayed, I breathe deeply, pivoting slowly until I have her exact location. There. She’s close.
I whirl around two bends, then on the third I nearly knock her over. She’s climbing toward the high fae chambers, carrying a tray of grapes and cheese as though she’s on her way to an assignation with a lover. The silky teal tunic she wears is adorned with feathers far too fine for a servant, so perhaps she is.
Wide green eyes meet mine. Then her chin lifts and shoulders square. “Prince Never, we meet on yet another flight of stairs. Should I be worried this time?”
The effect of the wine makes me smile rather than snarl as I normally would at her impudence. “Where do you go in such a hurry?”
“I ran into your evil friend, Kian, in the kitchens and admitted my terrible state of boredom. He said he’d teach me a game to relieve it.”
“Really?” My pulse quickens. “And what game would that be?”
“I can’t pronounce the name. It sounds like a sneeze and is apparently played a little like chess. He said you faeries go nuts for it.”
“Nuts are not my favorite thing to eat.”
“No, silly. I mean that you guys love it. It’s a board game where a bunch of attackers try to capture the king and—”
“Ah, you speak of hnefatafl. Bearded Norsemen guests brought it to our lands many years ago. You are right, we do favor it. And I am the best player in the kingdom.”
“No, Never. You have the biggest head in the kingdom. That’s all.”
Frowning, I feel around my skull. I don’t think it has increased but imbibing too much wine can cause unfortunate glamors to appear unbidden. It’s possible my head looks twice its usual size.