When he saw her today, he’s heart thundered wildly in his chest. And she didn’t even look at him.
Sebastian shook his head and drained another goblet of wine.
He was the Wicked Prince. The heir to the throne. A high fae in his own right . . . and he was strung up over some savage warrior that probably didn’t even know how to dress or act like a lady.
He was disgusted with himself, but it didn’t change a thing.
To make matters worse, Vareck had been giving him more and more royal duties, claiming that he needed to spend time with his mate. Spend time. Sebastian rolled his eyes. They fucked more than water nymphs in the summer.
He found it obnoxious and almost as disgusting as his own fixation with Mara’s sister. The thing he needed was to do was forget. Why couldn’t he just forget? Not even Faerie wine seemed to do the trick. He was drunker than he’d ever been and still thinking of that damned redcap.
Sebastian stood up abruptly, wobbling a bit as he found his center. The half-dressed woman on his lap fell to the floor. She was still squawking protests after him when he turned to leave the throne room entirely, waving off the guards and stewards to tell them he was fine. It had been hours since Mara and Vareck said their vows and disappeared almost immediately after. If he listened hard enough, the wind carried the sounds they were making from some other part of the castle, but while Sebastian was many things, he was not a masochist.
He tossed the empty goblet into a topiary and turned down the hallway. Apart from the odd couple here and there doing things he’d like to be doing himself, there wasn’t much to see. The woman he’d left back in the throne room was beautiful. Well-spoken and high fae. She wanted to appease him in every way, and as often as she lifted her skirts for him, it should make him happy. But nothing she gave him did. He headed toward the gardens to clear his head.
He stepped through the arch and into the heart of winter. The only trees were those that were dead. Icicles hung from their branches, giving off an air of serenity and beauty. Above him green lights danced across the sky. The winter lights.
While the years had been long and cold for as long as he could remember, some parts of the eternal winter were truly beautiful.
Sebastian took another step forward and a scent hit him.
It smelled of fire and blood oranges and freesia.
He knew that scent. But there was something else to it.
Something irresistible now.
It made him insatiable.
Sebastian followed it deeper into the garden. It only took him a few minutes to find her. She stood facing away from, her face upturned to the sky, a goblet of faerie wine in one hand.
“Sadie,” he said softly, his voice husky.
The redcap turned to him. Their eyes met.
He felt it as the bond snapped into place.
She was summer and winter. Fire and blood. Life—and when a cruel smirk twisted on her lips—death.
Sebastian took a step forward. He reached for her.
And Sadie turned away. A calloused chuckle slid from between her smooth, sensual lips.
“This is rich,” she said, lifting her goblet to the universe. “Good one.” She saluted it as if this were a joke.
“You’re mine,” Sebastian growled, taking another step forward. It all made sense now. Why he couldn’t get her out of his head. Why he couldn’t let go.
He wasn’t meant to. She was his mate.
“Am I?” Sadie asked, turning to him once more.
He nodded once and took another step forward, almost to her. “You’re mine. You always have been.” He reached again. So close—yet still so far.
“And you’re drunk,” she replied, tossing the contents of her goblet at him. The cool liquid soaked through his fine clothing and for once, Sebastian didn’t care. “Welcome to consequences, asshole. They’re a bitch sometimes.”
She turned and walked away, deeper into the gardens without a single look back. Without a single care to what it meant that he—a high fae—found his . . .
They were mates. He knew it with every fiber of his being. He knew she knew it; he knew she felt it, as all lower fae did.
Yet . . . she walked away.
Sebastian stared at Sadie’s retreating form, unable to believe that she could deny the bond between them.
His breath caught in his chest. His heart began to race. His senses heightened all around him. Anger unfurled its claws inside him, though he’d never been one to give in to his temper this way.
But for her—for his mate—he would.
He would do anything.
He would have her, and she would have him.
The urge to chase her took hold, and unable to resist, Sebastian went after his mate.
Dorian
He dropped the tray of food on the bed. It was loaded with the best of what Faerie had to offer. Roasted potatoes, fresh game smoked to perfection, warm bread, and a winter fruit pudding. Any sane man would have leapt at the food, living in a place where it was scarce to begin with. The leprechaun hardly stirred in response.
Dorian had been his unofficial jailor for months and got to watch the decline firsthand.
At first, the leprechaun thought to use his charm. Then he had fought. Finally, he tried to bribe. It had all been for naught, and his attempts had grown fewer and further between.
Now several months later he was hardly the same man. While he’d been lean and wiry before, the man had lost a good bit of muscle. His unwashed hair was longer, wild and unkempt. His cheeks were gaunt and had lost their color. The green sparkle in his eyes were dead. Gone.
Dorian shook his head. While he didn’t particularly care one way or the next what happened to him, this was just disgraceful. Pathetic.
He turned to leave. It was only as he reached the door that a scratchy voice spoke up.
“Has she asked about me?” the leprechaun whispered. Dorian reached for the door once more. “Has Kaia asked about me?”
Dorian sighed and let himself out. The non-answer was answer enough.
The heavy wooden door closed behind him. He turned the iron locks with his gloved hands and strode away, the silence behind him almost deafening.
The leprechaun lived in a glorified prison. Made worse because his lady love, well, she didn’t love him back. Dorian understood both their perspectives, better than he would ever admit. Still, despite his pity for a fallen crime lord of the human realm, they couldn’t release him. Not with that favor he brokered with the witch. They didn’t know where the sorceress was, and the amulet of Morgan La Fae was simply too powerful to be unleashed into the wrong hands. He knew better than any of them.
The sounds of music traveled through the halls of the castle. A haunting melody that reminded him of a different time in this same place . . . with a woman long gone. Dorian clenched his fists and kept walking.
While the court and much of the land was celebrating the mating ceremony of Vareck and Mara, it was just another day for Dorian. He couldn’t share the same joy as the realm, even if he wanted to. Those in Faerie were full of hope, looking forward to the curse breaking and the excitement of finding their mates. He didn’t have the same hope. Dorian had a mate once. A mate he loved fiercely and lost all the same to the corrupt king six hundred years ago. He would never have a mate again. She was his . . . and she was gone . . .
Dorian shook his head. It was over. It had been over ever since that night. And yet, he couldn’t stop thinking of that amulet. It had been the beginning and the end for him.