The air symbol tattoo on his chest that I remember seeing when he bathed at the Lake of Spirits, glows like a red-hot river of lava, then fades to a faint outline. I wish he’d button the shirt so I wouldn’t have to look at his all-too-fascinating chest.
Without warning, everything crashes to the ground. I gasp and he laughs. The sound is warm and possibly the first genuine expression of good humor I’ve heard him make.
“I thought you were meant to be in a bad mood.”
“Me?” He points at his chest. “Did I say I was? Look out the window. The sun is shining again.”
I look and find it is.
I smile before I make an accusation. “Oh my God, you’re happy.”
“I suppose I am,” he agrees, mirroring my expression.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” His grin disappears as he shifts to the edge of the sofa, leaning toward me. “Maybe I don’t dislike humans quite as much as I thought I did.” He nods at the hnefatafl board. “Shall we play?”
“I can’t. The moss elves are expecting me around lunchtime.”
The cushions sigh as he flops back against them. “How will your precious elves cope without you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Three nights hence is Samhain. You will be paraded about like a prized okapri in front of the Merits. Your days in my land may very well be numbered.”
Smoothing my tunic, I stand up. “No, my days here are sure to go on and on. You’ll win the contest, and I will still be yours.”
The satisfaction of seeing his jaw drop warming my belly, I turn and saunter away.
“Lara,” he says as I near the exit.
“Yes?”
“Tonight, after dinner, return here and we’ll play. This time, I’ll teach you how to attack.”
“Okay. I will.” I pause before pushing the door, a large triangle shining in the middle of it inlaid with strips of bronze and copper. “Why aren’t there ever any guards at the entrance to your rooms?”
In slow motion, his head cants to the side like an animal sizing me up. It reminds me that even though his skin is golden and warm to touch, he’s nothing like a human man. “I don’t need protection. If anyone were stupid enough to breech my chambers without permission, well, they wouldn’t be stupid for long. They wouldn’t be anything at all.”
“Very scary. I’ll see you later, then.”
“Bring my king with you,” he calls as the door begins to creak shut.
“We’ll see,” I say, thrusting my head through the gap before letting it close behind me.
On the way to fill my basket full of fruit and vegetables for the elves, I run into Raff and Spark en route to their appointment with the glass blowers.
The prince latches onto my arm as I pass, pulling me to a stop.
“We meet again,” I say, curtsying without enthusiasm. I don’t have time for Raff’s games.
The sun burns through wispy clouds as we stand next to an old beech tree, the gray bark smooth beneath my palm when I lean against it. A pond ripples at our feet, goldfish with piranha-like teeth darting through the lily pads. Spark clambers to the ground and races to the water’s edge, then tries her hand at fishing.
Raff hikes an eyebrow at the sky. “You’ve been gone from his chambers for some time now, yes? And yet dark clouds are not threatening to smother us.”
“Well, that’s great,” I say, rearranging bread loaves in my basket. “Right?”
Expression strange, he drags the pad of his finger across my cheek. “Ever is correct. You do look like a freckled wasp.”
I frown and fidget, this time, with my tunic.
“A very sweet and charming wasp,” he adds quickly. “At any rate, you certainly seem to have charmed him.”
I snort. “I doubt that very much.”
“Do you? Look up again.”
Gold scorches my eyes as I stare at the sky. Big deal. The sun was shining when I woke up this morning.
“Well, think about what you and Kian were doing with Ever when the sun was out earlier. I’m sure it was quality time spent hanging out with you that drove off the storm clouds, not me.”
Raff laughs. “Kian and I were doing naught. My brother was relaying, in quite tedious detail, the events of your game last night. If one were to consider only Ever’s expression as he spoke, they would imagine the memory pained him greatly. However, the brilliant cyan sky told the true story of how thinking about last night affected him.”
Oh.
I’m so shocked by that revelation I can’t even come up with a smartass reply.
Soaking wet, Spark appears at Raff’s feet, tugging his boot while jumping up and down and making a terrible noise.
“Yes, yes,” Raff says, frowning down at her. “Do not fret. We won’t be late. I must go, Lara. Please give my best wishes to your elves.”
“Hopefully, one day soon, you’ll come with me and give them your regards in person.”
“When Ever becomes king, you must speak to him about the moss elves. I believe he may even issue a full pardon if you ask nicely.”
“Wait! One more thing—I’ve noticed lately no one stops me when I wander around the castle, especially in the royal wings. It’s weird. The guards won’t even look at me. Why is that?”
“Because he has told them not to, of course.”
Wearing a rakish grin, he bows and hurries away, taking long strides toward the city’s market district.
What Raff is suggesting about the weather is beyond strange. As if I—an insignificant human—could possibly influence the Prince of Air and somehow make the sun shine.
That’s insane.
Chapter 17
SAMHAIN
Ever
Alone, I trek through the dark forest, sparks from the bonfire and lightning bugs floating around me as I follow the sound of the revelers to the ancient tournament site where the Samhain feast is taking place. Fury simmers in my blood, the air symbol tattoo on my bare chest pulsing and throbbing in time with every slow breath I take.
Tonight, I will do everything in my power to keep Lara at our court. I’ll fight to keep her out of the Merits’ vile clutches. And I’ll fight to keep her for myself. For what purpose? I have no idea.
Samhain is my favorite night of the year, and as always, I am late to the feast. It matters not, for I am the Prince of Talamh Cúig, and I do as I wish.
As I clear the trees, coming out into a field of shadows, the world changes. Above the crashing sea, a bonfire blazes on the cliff’s edge, its flames reaching for the stars. Sounds roar from the revelry on the hill, and wraiths weave their incorporeal bodies around me, snickering and whispering.
“Our prince, our prince, Samhain’s freedom is sweet. Let us play here with you forever. Let us stay. Let us stay.”
They buffet my limbs as I move through them, steeling my mind, snapping barriers into place.
“Not with me,” I tell them. “I rule, and you obey. Know your place this night of open passage or I will lock you from it forever.”
Wisely, they vanish immediately.
In the distance, the queen’s high table sits against a backdrop of the crumbling ruins, and all around it, hundreds of faeries and wild creatures run rampant, released from their tethers on this night of the Thin Dark Veil. Once the seat of power of our kingdom, this was Gadriel, the first Black Blood prince’s home—a fortress of black tourmaline and stone overlooking the majestic Emerald Sea.