TEN
I woke naked but not alone.
On his side, head perched on his hand, Atakan watched me.
For hazy moments, I wondered if I was dreaming or falling into another nightmare. It unnerved me. The way he stared as if he were trying to ascertain what to do with me.
He proved my assumption true when he murmured, “I can’t decide if looking at your body makes me happier than the thought of watching you die.”
“Good morning to you, too.”
“I searched the ballroom for someone with hair like yours, eyes and hips like yours.” His gaze narrowed on my mouth. “Lips like yours.”
“Foolish.” Sleep thickened my voice. “I was right here.”
“Oh, I know.”
Realization soured my stomach. “Did you succeed?”
He didn’t answer. But he smirked.
It faded as his bronze eyes drifted over my body again. When they returned to my face, emerald peppered them. They halted on my mouth once more. “Put your lips on mine.”
I wanted to.
I might have wanted to more than I wanted to flee from him and this kingdom.
Instead, I kicked the tangled bedding from my legs and threw them over the side of the bed. I drained the water from the goblet on the nightstand, but it did nothing to douse the bitter taste of jealousy and the sweetness of relief.
As soon as I set the goblet down, an arm hooked around my waist, and I fell back over the mattress.
The prince, on his hands and knees, loomed above me. “You won’t play with me.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
He frowned, and how quick it happened made it sort of endearing.
Until he lowered his head and the tip of his nose touched mine. Strands of his blond hair tickled my chin and lips, and the scent of peppermint tea lingered on his breath. “I don’t like this.”
“I don’t like you.”
“You liked me enough to wait naked in my bed.”
“Oh,” I laughed out. “You thought I did that for you? ”
Fury darkened his bronze eyes.
The growing flecks of emerald hypnotized, his lashes touching his heavy brows as he scowled. “If you so much as think about playing with anyone but me, I will tie you to this bed with their entrails and paint you in their blood while I fuck you.”
Breath burned past my lips at the mere thought.
But I refused to let him distract me from winning after such a fatal loss. “Yet you can play with whoever you like?” I laughed again. This time, without humor. “That is hardly fair.”
“What isn’t fair is your existence,” Atakan seethed, his mouth leaving my forehead and moving closer to mine. “The way you make me crave and loathe you in equal measure.”
I pressed my thighs together, and he groaned—sounding almost pained.
Then his mouth descended.
He brushed his lips over my own. So softly, I thought I truly was still asleep.
I waited, scarcely breathing, for the violence he’d once vowed to bestow. My heart failed to beat. My body didn’t move. I just lay there, my face upside down beneath his, knowing what I wanted yet so unsure of what to do. Not sure if I should reach up and touch his hair.
And take what I wanted.
An immortal lifetime passed in a moment of indecision. Then my heart rattled in my chest. My lips rubbed over his. My breath whispered between them, carrying a slight moan.
Snarling low, he shifted closer. Pressed harder. His hand framed my cheek, fingers digging underneath my jaw. Then he opened my mouth with his tongue.
Instinctively, my teeth snatched it and dragged over the soft flesh.
An animalistic noise climbed his throat. He licked my bottom teeth, my lower lip, peeling it back before reaching my chin.
He bit it, then whispered, “I want to do this while your tight little cunt struggles to adjust to my cock.” And the way he’d said it not only made me shiver, but it made me believe he hadn’t done it before.
Made me want to be the first he gave such attentiveness to with his mouth.
But no amount of wanting could rid the thought of him finding another to bed while I’d waited for him like a besotted and desperate fool.
So I smiled and rolled off the bed, swinging my hips as I traipsed into the bathing room and closed the door.
Almost everyone was absent at dinner.
Those in attendance, Phineus and Ruelle, appeared interested only in eating. The clank of cutlery and serving utensils joined the crackling fire in the silence.
I’d had no desire to eat in the dining room. But I hadn’t wanted to wait until everyone was done to make a plate to eat alone in Atakan’s rooms. After losing sleep last night, I’d chosen a nap over lunch, and I’d woken starving.
“Garran is probably still sleeping,” Phineus eventually informed as he dumped another potato onto his plate. “Rumor has it he didn’t return to his tower until dawn.”
Ruelle glared when I reached for the bread at the same time as her. Even as my fingers curled into my palms, I smiled with sweetness that likely looked as forced as it was and gestured for her to pick first.
She took her time, so I helped myself to some vegetables and tried to ignore imaginings of her and my betrothed.
As if my barely tamed jealousy had summoned the monster, Atakan arrived a minute later.
Wearing fresh brown britches and a floating ivory shirt that was far too thin for early spring, he stalked into the dining room. He took the seat opposite me. His eyes swung from me to his cousin and thinned in warning.
Phineus poured a mint-scented cream onto his meal, ignoring him.
The scent of it brought forth the ever-present memory of Atakan’s carnal kiss.
It scattered instantly when Ruelle moved to the empty seat beside the prince, her dinner dragged with her.
Candlelight from the chandelier swayed the shadows behind her chair. They seemed to meld into her gauzy black gown as she fussed with the skirts.
Paying her no mind, Atakan piled beef onto his plate.
I discovered he wasn’t even paying attention to what he was doing when I looked up from the mess he was making and found his focus solely on me. He filled his crystal goblet with but a glance, then sipped from it, his unreadable eyes still stuck to me.
I carved into my meal, feeling that gaze as if it were another hard press of his mouth on my own. Another lick at my teeth and lips.
Ceaselessly, I’d tried not to think about it. I’d tried to think of anything else. He’d broken my innocence with his fingers, yet not even that could take up space the way that stupid kiss did.
Perhaps it had poisoned him in the same way, and that was why he continued to watch me. Perhaps he was merely thinking of new ways to torture me when we left this room, and he issued me a new challenge.
Halfway through my meal, Ruelle broke the silence by climbing onto the prince’s lap.
The clang of Atakan’s fork against his plate jarred.
I forced my eyes back to my food, even as I straightened in my chair.
“Mildred,” Ruelle said. When she failed to earn my gaze, her tone sharpened. “You left your own ball when it had only just begun.”
It irritated that she would wait until she had the prince’s presence to attempt goading me.
“I was feeling…” I peered at Atakan, who stabbed a hunk of meat with his knife before tearing it in two with his teeth. Coyly, I touched my mouth. “So very overwhelmed.”
Atakan stilled.
Then he flashed those teeth in a feral half smile as he chewed.
Ruelle huffed. “But do you not think that’s disrespectful?”
That earned my whole attention. “No. Do you know what is disrespectful?”
She blinked, then raised a daring and slender brow.
“You.” I smiled brightly. “Sitting on my betrothed’s lap.”
Phineus coughed, thumping his chest as he gave in and laughed.
Ruelle glowered. “Unlike you, halfling, I am wanted here.”
“But you’re not,” Atakan said, then promptly picked her up and dropped her into the seat beside him.
Mortification painted Ruelle’s cheeks crimson. Her eyes glossed, and guilt nibbled when she whispered to Atakan, “You cannot mean that.”
Brightest skies, perhaps she desired more than a place in this court. Perhaps she was in love with the prince.
Atakan said nothing.
Ruelle followed his eyes to me, then pushed to her feet. “If you think he’ll actually marry you, halfling, you’re as delusional as the rest of your mortal kin.” With that, she snatched her plate and left the room.
Phineus cursed and reached for the decanter of wine.
Atakan continued to eat, though with his eyes now on his food.
Minutes of tense quiet stifled before I found the courage to poke at what Ruelle had said. “How are the wedding preparations coming along?” I asked. “It’s a mere week away, and I’ve yet to see so much as a sample of fabric or cake toppings.”
“We’re not to be bothered with the tedious chores of it all,” Atakan said.
His answer and curt tone wouldn’t deter me. This wedding was nearly a decade in the making. It was not just another ball for the influential to attend. It was a history-making event for this entire continent.
I opened my mouth to demand more information, then looked at the open doors when Atakan did.
Rushed steps echoed from outside, slowing as they neared the dining room. Two guards appeared, dressed in a mixture of leather and plated armor.
One pushed the cover of his helmet up, revealing flushed cheeks as he tapped on one of the doors. “Please excuse us, my prince.” He bobbed his head toward me. “Princess.”
Surprised he’d addressed me when many hadn’t since my arrival, I was too slow to smile nor ask about their presence.
Atakan was already on his feet and marching to the door. “Where?”
The guard whispered, “The eastern woods.”
I heard nothing more before they left, their quick footsteps rapidly dissipating.
Phineus rose, still chewing his food.
Curiosity got the better of me. “What were they talking about?”
His wink was betrayed by the tension in his jaw. “Better you don’t know, Princess.”
The door creaked open well after midnight.
Stumbled steps and the ringing thud of steel against the wood floor followed.
Between the half-drawn drapes, the full moon leaked into the bedchamber just enough to see the stains marring the prince’s shirt. But I hadn’t needed to see them. Not when I could smell it.
Blood.
Not merely his own, I realized, rolling over as he dropped onto the side of his bed. His boots were kicked off. A slight groan joined the thump of them meeting the floor as he gripped the hem of his once lovely shirt.
“Tell me something, dread.” His voice was tight—pinched. “Do you only sleep after you’ve found pleasure?”
I smiled despite not wanting to. It wavered when he attempted to lift his shirt and hissed.
Instinctively, I sat up and moved toward his back. “What happened?”
He gave no response. He tossed something onto his nightstand. A dagger that hit the wood with a knock that nearly made me jump.
“You’re injured,” I said.
“Answer my question.” The gruffness of his tone only further confirmed that he was wounded.
“Of course I can sleep without it. I merely struggle to rest when I don’t know if someone will plunge a knife into my heart.”
His low laughter broke, and he cursed.
Shuffling closer, I asked, “Can you lift your arms?”
“Can you run away from this castle already?”
I sighed and rose to my knees behind him. He didn’t so much as tense when I gripped the neck of his shirt in both hands and then tugged. As it tore cleanly down his back, he did.
The fabric was stuck to his wounds.
Many wounds, I discovered, gasping as I peeled the shirt away from his wet skin. “What in the skies happened?” I made to touch them—the dark and bloodied holes speckling the expanse of his broad back and tapered torso.
“Iron splinters happened.”
My fingers paused, floating as my eyes widened. “What type of weapon is capable of such a thing?”
“Wind magic.” He huffed. “And considerable luck.”
“But that is Seelie magic.” And such power was nearly always inherited from noble blood.
His silence was telling.
I asked nothing more. He swayed, and I pushed him up by his biceps, then reached over him for the blade on his nightstand.
Maybe I imagined it, but I could have sworn he sniffed my hair before I settled back behind him.
I should have let the wounds fester, let the iron weaken him, and hope the splinters moved toward his rotten heart. But if I didn’t help him, someone else would, and being the one to do so could very well help me.
Countless times, I’d lain awake over the years, wondering what would happen to me if Atakan Ethermore died. When I’d dared to ask Bernie, she’d said to pray to every deity that he lived a long life. For the faeries of this court would find worse ways to use me—or simply get rid of me.
Besides, that he’d come to his rooms upon returning from wherever he’d been was alarming and informative.
That he didn’t move an inch when I carefully pried the splinters from his smooth skin confirmed that he’d come to me for a reason. He didn’t want anyone to know he was wounded. Perhaps he didn’t even want them to know where he’d been.
But I only said, “How sweet you are to disturb my slumber when there are healers far more adept at this.”
“Like I told you,” he said, gritted when a particularly large shard left his skin. It fell to the bed, then clacked to the floor when I used the dagger to flick it away. “You will sleep when I say so.”
Though he spoke true, it had also proven to be somewhat of a lie. “And how did you know I was awake, monster?”
“Your heartbeat,” he said.
I pondered that as I picked three splinters from between his shoulder blades, my fingers slippery with blood. I wiped them on the soiled bedding, as well as the stone hilt of the blade, then continued.
He’d been paying attention—learning my tells.
The satisfaction that delivered birthed a smile I was glad he couldn’t see. “What is happening in those woods, Atakan?”
“The usual,” he said, apathetic. “Leftovers and sympathizers dooming themselves with bold attempts to undo what cannot be undone.”
“The Unseelie,” I whispered, wincing as I dug at a larger piece of iron right next to his spine. “They’re attacking to reach the castle and have you remove the wards caging The Bonelands?”
He tensed, breath sailing from him when I freed the shard from his skin. “They attack because there is nothing else to be done. The wards cannot be removed.”
That gave me pause.
However finite, there was always a way to break through such spells. Always a loophole for any curse. Although plucking a thread that would unravel something of that magnitude would inevitably invite severe consequences.
I didn’t say what I thought. I didn’t dare put voice to what this prince already knew. He and all those who’d played a role in caging the Unseelie knew they would free themselves from what our kingdoms had done to them one day and seek retribution.
The likes of which this continent had probably never seen.
I shivered and hoped that time came only after a few centuries of living, and I was long dead. Though what that living might entail, I could still only guess at. Perhaps that was why The Boneland’s curse bothered me now, when I’d never given it much thought before.
I knew what it was to crave freedom. To wish to unleash every ugly feeling born from my captivity on those who’d forced it upon me so mercilessly.
The prince swayed again.
My hands enjoyed the feel of his skin too much as I steadied him before I set the dagger down and left the bed in search of more light.
“What of these Seelie sympathizers?” I took the candle from his nightstand. He didn’t answer, and I supposed he didn’t need to. The Unseelie likely had numerous allies in this realm.
Lighting the candle on the dying flames in the hearth, I asked, “How many Unseelie warriors remain in Ethermore?”
“Too many,” he grunted. “Next time you disobey me, perhaps I’ll toss you into the woods to play with them.”
I smirked. “You said I wasn’t allowed to play with anyone else.”
“And I meant it.” Pain edged the lethal whisper.
“Then perhaps you should think of a different threat.” When I crawled back onto the bed, my nightgown tangled beneath my knees as I raised the candle over his back. “Besides, I would enjoy the change of scenery.”
I used his ruined shirt to wipe his back, the flame bouncing as I made sure every gouge in his skin was closing. Only one continued to weep, so I snuffed the candle and grabbed the blade.
As I did, he said, “You’re not to leave the grounds, dread,” and so seriously that I stilled.
He seemed perturbed. Truly concerned about these enemies intent on reaching this castle. If not to free The Bonelands, then for revenge.
I itched to ask more. To inform him that I’d had some defense training—enough to surely help to some degree. But he tilted as soon as I removed the last splinter, as if certain that no more remained, and collapsed over the bed.
For mere moments or too many minutes, I watched his breathing settle before washing my hands in the bathing room.
Upon the window seat, I curled over the cushion underneath my sister’s emerald coat and studied the sleeping monster. The unjust beauty of his lax features. The blood on his clothing and blades.
When I woke, only small patches of dried blood remained where the prince had lain.