1. Chapter One
Chapter One
MANY YEARS LATER—Slyfell, the Gold Court
I come alive when night falls.
Swinging my legs from the bed, I tiptoe across the small room, careful not to wake my sister, Acantha. Pulling my cloak from its hook on the wall between our beds, I drape it around my shoulders while making my way toward the window.
I push open the glass pane, careful to guard it against the wind. Over my shoulder, Acantha lays in her bed, still sound asleep.
I reach for the tree that sits right outside our window and firmly grasp the closest branch. Our house is not very tall, but falling from this distance would surely result in several broken bones. Pushing the thought from my mind, I pull myself over the windowsill and clasp the branch with my other hand. Like I’ve done so many times before, I pull myself up and swing my body, so my legs make contact with the tree. Lifting my feet from the trunk, I position them on lower branches. I wait a moment, so I’m sure they’re sturdy, and then I start to climb down.
Once my feet touch the ground, I pull up my hood, looking back at the house one more time. The window is ajar, moving slightly in the wind. Even if Acantha wakes up, I’ll be long gone.
I head for town, moving swiftly. The only place bustling with activity is the tavern, lit by candlelight. Ale-infused laughter slips through the cracks as I pass. I’m sure the inn’s guests sleeping in the rooms above aren’t pleased about the noise. That is, if they are in bed and not drinking themselves into a stupor with the others.
The night is clear, save for the occasional cloud or two that passes in front of the moon. It’s picturesque, shining brightly over my head to light my path. If I had my sketchbook with me, I’d draw what I see.
I turn the corner, keeping close to the buildings, and duck into the stables as soon as I get the chance.
Moving further inside, I find what I’ve come for.
Loren lounges in a spot of hay, with his hands clasped behind his head. Moonlight washes over him, highlighting the planes of his bare chest. His dark eyes instantly find mine, deep with hunger. His light brown hair is tousled and unruly, curling slightly at the ends. He stands when he sees me.
“You came.”
“Of course I did,” I tell him, staring up at his handsome face. His lips part, eyes roaming down my body.
“Mmm, good.” Loren grins, and it makes me weak in the knees. “I’d have been driven mad with longing if you hadn’t come.”
I touch his chest, slowly moving my hand up. Not once breaking eye contact. “And you think you would have been the only one?”
“No,” Loren breathes. “Not at all.”
I step closer. “Good.”
He runs his hands up and down my body, sending tingles scattering across my waist. My clothing dulls the sensation, but it’s still enough to awaken my desire. Pressing my palms to his chest, I do the same to him, dragging my hands down his torso in slow, lazy strokes. Even under the pads of my fingers, his skin is noticeably hot. All it does is make me want him to touch me everywhere.
He lets out a breath, mouth parted. I can feel his muscles loosen beneath me.
Loren moves his hand to my shoulder, poised to pull my dress down. He waits for a moment, but when I don’t tell him to stop, he tugs it down, exposing my skin to the night.
I watch him, my breaths becoming quicker .
Loren pulls my dress down more, his hands tugging at both sleeves now.
The dress falls over my leather corset, and more of my skin is kissed by the cool air.
Loren’s hands roam back up my torso, then cup my breasts over my corset. He dips his head down and kisses me, his lips soft and inviting. Then his tongue slips into my mouth, claiming it for his own. He breaks from the kiss, only to drag his mouth, his tongue, down my neck.
I shiver, my hands grabbing at his arms. I need his skin on mine. Now.
“Untie it,” I say, my voice lacking its usual strength. “Please.”
With a wicked look in his eyes that sends heat thrumming through my body, Loren obliges me. Still sucking at my neck, he makes quick work of my corset and lets it fall to the wooden floor. His hands cup my breasts again, this time lightly squeezing. Teasing. He traces burning circles around them, before brushing his thumbs back and forth across my nipples.
My eyes flutter, and I gasp.
The sound has Loren picking me up with a low growl escaping his throat. He lays me down onto the hay and kneels before me. He wraps his fingers around my legs, just above my ankles, and gradually moves them upward, pushing my skirts up as he does. With my skirts pooled around my hips, Loren drags his hands back down my thighs until they reach my knees. Then, he parts my legs until they’re open wide .
My body tingles everywhere he touches my skin, burning, aching for more.
I have no doubt I’m gleaming with wetness.
Loren’s eyes darken, drinking me in. His hands go lower, between my legs, and his fingers hover just above my most sensitive spot. He’s barely touching me, but it’s enough to make my hips buck upward. When his skin touches me there, I open my mouth, letting out a soft moan.
Loren looks at me like he wants to devour me.
“Tell me what you want, Cryssa.” My name on his tongue sounds like a prayer. A plea. “Tell me how you want me to please you.”
“Your mouth,” I pant. “I want you to use your mouth.”
Loren’s lips curve upward. “With pleasure.”
He sinks lower, and I lift myself up onto my elbows to watch him.
His dark eyes never part from mine, even as he lowers his mouth to my sex. The sight of him with his head between my legs has me balling my fists, as if that could contain the sensations his tongue has rippling through me.
He licks me, slowly dragging his tongue upward. My back arches, and the motion rubs my tender mound against his tongue again.
My hands find Loren’s head, grabbing fistfuls of those thick curls.
Slowly, he continues to torture me with his mouth.
“Loren,” I pant. “More. ”
Loren doesn’t fight me. He quickens his pace, sucking my sex and lapping his tongue at my wetness. While he does, he slips a finger inside me, drawing a moan from my lips. Then he pulls his finger out, before plunging two into me the next time.
Loren’s fingers stroke me from the inside, while his mouth sets me ablaze.
My shallow breaths quicken, turning into fervent whimpers and moans.
Loren maintains his pace, fingers steadily coaxing me to climax.
Shattering into what feels like a thousand pieces, I cry out, tightening my grip on Loren’s hair. My hands slip from his head and rest on my stomach.
But he’s not finished.
He moves on top of me, hips pinning me to the floor beneath him. Loren’s mouth crashes into mine, and I can taste my sweetness that still lingers on his tongue.
His hands slip under me, palms pressed to my skin while they slide up my back. Holding me close, Loren’s other hand finds its way back to my chest, kneading my now fully exposed breast.
I moan into his lips. If I hadn’t already succumbed to him, I do now.
All I can think about are his hands, the subtle motion of his hips, his lips.
I don’t even register the slight scraping sound the door makes when it opens until Loren abruptly breaks from our kiss, whipping his head around.
A male cough echoes. If it weren’t for the horses’ breathing, the stables would be utterly silent.
Loren shifts his body in front of me, blocking me from the stranger’s view. I scramble to cover myself, haphazardly pulling my dress back up.
Once I’m covered, I peer over Loren’s shoulder to see who disturbed us.
A man that’s much too beautiful to be human stands at the front of the stables, his tall, lean body partially in the doorway. His black hair falls in front of his face, but I can still make out sharp, amber eyes scrutinizing us in the low light. Seeing more of him, I realize he must be of noble birth—his fine clothes are of a much higher quality than anyone in this area of the city could afford. I’d have recognized him if he were a Pelleveron, of that, I’m certain—the Pelleverons have an undeniable arrogance and a perpetual look of displeasure playing at their mouths. Meaning, he can’t hail from this part of the kingdom. He’s from one of the other Courts, then. If he’s here, in Slyfell, then he must seek to gain the favor of Lady Maelyrra Pelleveron—Head of House Pelleveron and all of the Gold Court—no doubt. The thought makes me wrinkle my nose in disgust.
Anyone that willingly associates with the Pelleverons is probably just as haughty as they are. Though, for noble fae, that’s all too common.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d assume you were trespassing.” The nobleman’s voice is rich and smooth, like that of a delicacy laced with poison.
Loren’s response is curt. Unyielding. “Then we’ll leave.”
Taking my hand, he picks up my worn-out corset and helps me to my feet.
When he sees me, the nobleman’s eyes widen ever so slightly. Drawn to him, I can’t help but meet his gaze.
Warmth thrums in my chest, a strange, buzzing sensation gripping me. A burnt-orange light surrounds the nobleman, as if he were shining from the inside out. Judging by the look of surprise taking hold of his chiseled features, he feels the buzzing, too.
Loren turns to me, his face void of color.
“Cryssa,” he whispers, voice heavy with dread.
Lifting my hands, I look down at my palms.
The same burnt-orange light is coming from within me .
My stomach constricts with nausea, horror clenching my abdomen.
Mouth agape, I look back at the nobleman. As the light surrounding him fades, mine does too. In perfect sync.
The muscles in his jaw flex. And the undeniable truth of what we just witnessed settles into both of us. The gods seldom interfere with our world, more content to watch from afar. And when they do, it is only when absolutely necessary. As the Goddess of Fate, a blessing from Theelia signals one of the two strongest forces that can alter one’s fate: lover or killer. Even for the fae, being blessed by Theelia is rare. For humans… it is almost unheard of.
The will of Theelia is clear, and one way or another, our destinies are inextricably intertwined.
“The Lady of Fate has spoken,” the nobleman says, voice cold, his amber gaze still locked on me. He’s composed himself, keeping his shock at bay. “The little fawn lost in the stables is mine.”
No.
My breath is caught in my throat. I choke on it.
No, no, no. Not him. Not a noble fae.
It’s not until Loren cups my elbow that I realize I’m shaking. He steps closer to me as he does, steadying me.
Breaking from Loren’s grip, I bolt out of the stables.
I barrel through the backdoor, my hands riddled with fresh splinters. But I barely feel the pain. Clutching my corset to my chest, I run to the road.
I need to get far away.
The farther, the better. Maybe then, I can pretend this was all a dream.
A nightmare.
“Cryssa!” Loren calls.
The sounds of footsteps behind me get louder.
I push myself further, harder, until my legs burn.
“Cryssa, wait!”
Loren catches up to me, and his arms wrap around my waist, tackling me to the ground. He rolls me over. I squirm, but his hand to my chest keeps me in place .
“Cryssa, listen to me,” Loren says, breathing heavily. “This doesn’t mean anything.”
“How can you say that?” I shoot out. The sight of Theelia bestowing her divine blessing around the nobleman and me will forever be burned into my memory. “You know what this means.”
“Yes,” Loren says, his voice calm. It should make me feel better—it has made me feel better countless times—but tonight, it doesn’t. “All Theelia’s blessing means is that your fate is bound to his—whoever he is.”
“He’s a nobleman , Loren! One of the fae!” I hiss. “I am no one. For a human girl like me, being bound to him can only mean one of two things—that he is my destiny, or he will be my undoing.”
Either way, the course of my life will change forever.
No matter how desperately I wish to escape it.
Loren presses his lips together, staring me down. He knows what I say is true. Even he can’t explain this away.
“Then run away with me.” Desperation bleeds into Loren’s voice. He takes both of my hands into his. “We can leave this place and never come back.”
My heart is heavy.
“We can’t,” I say, hoping he’ll see reason. “You know how possessive the fae are. There’s no telling what he might do. And what about your mother? Your sister?” Since his father’s death several winters ago, Loren has supported his family by working in the gold mines alongside my father. “They need you. ”
“And I need you, Cryssa.” His gaze bears into mine, deep with pain. “I refuse to give up on our plans to marry.”
“Where would we go?” I ask, though I already know the answer. “There is no place we can go where he won’t find us.”
Fae males’ jealous nature is notorious throughout all of Inatia. I would never forgive myself if something happened to Loren because of me.
“I don’t care where we go,” Loren tells me. “I’d take you and run to the ends of the earth if it meant I could live out my days at your side.”
“Please, Loren,” I beg. “This is already hard enough. We must…We must stop seeing each other.” My voice threatens to crack, tears welling in my eyes. “With my destiny bound to another man, a fae male at that, we both know how this will end.”
“Cryssa, please, don’t do this.”
“There is no running from this. It will only hurt more if we allow our relationship to continue.”
Loren furrows his brow, agony brimming in his expression. “You can’t mean that.”
I reach out, cupping his cheek. “You’ve been my best friend since we were children. For that, I will always, always , love you, Loren Grayweaver. But my fate is sealed. I—” I swallow the lump that’s lodged in my throat. “I cannot bear to drag you down with me.”
Twisting out of his grip, I stand and walk away.
The wind nips at my arms, and I fear I abandoned my cloak in the stables. But I do not turn back.
It kills me to leave Loren there. Kills me to break his heart.
I meant what I said to him. Out of all the people in my life, he’s one of the few that knows me better than anyone. One of the few people that has stood by my side through it all.
It’s because I love him that I must let him go.