36. The Prince of Thorns
The Prince of Thorns
The aroma of frost greets me before I reach the cage.
Not real frost of course. Not here in the Below. But the echo of it. His scent.
Winter magic rotting in the heat. I breathe it in like it’s perfume.
I would know his smell in my grave.
Cryptgarden is quiet today. It’s as if the fae feel my approach and retreat into the shadows. For the best. I want to see him without an audience.
Later, there will be time for spectacle.
But now… Now, I want to savor this.
My boots are silent against the cracked cobblestones of the menagerie. I feel his magic long before I get close, that unbridled blessing pulsing with power.
Even caged, he’s perfect.
He’s sitting with his back to me, chained and shirtless. Filthy white hair hangs over his spine.
I step closer, dragging the shadows with me. My precious gift for him dangles in my hand.
“Kel,” I say, tasting the name like wine.
He stiffens, a subtle tightening of his shoulders.
I smile.
“You know, I thought you’d appear more broken by now.” I continue pacing in front of the cage. “But you’re still so regal, even in ruin.”
His eyes lift to meet mine, glinting with hatred and something else he won’t name.
Desperation maybe. Memory. Love?
I’ll burn all that out of him soon enough.
“You took your time,” he says.
“And you’re still speaking.” I smile. “How disappointing.”
He shifts, just enough for the chains to rattle. “I figured you’d prefer to hear me scream before you paraded me in front of your little monsters.”
I laugh, low and sharp. Gods, he still has claws. Good. It’s better when they make me bleed back.
“No, no.” I crouch in front of him. “Tonight isn’t about screaming. Not yet. Tonight is about presentation.”
His jaw tightens. “You think humiliating me will win your war?”
“No,” I murmur, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “I think collaring you will remind the realms who holds the leash.”
His eyes flash, full of fury and the kind of fear that makes my blood sing.
I pick the lock with a slim thorn, step inside the cell, and hold up the collar before him. It unfurls like a serpent, woven thorns and black ice.
Kel’s breath hitches.
“Don’t,” he says. “Whip me, beat me, but don’t put that thing on me.”
“But I made it just for you,” I say softly.
He lunges, but not fast enough.
I catch him by the throat and slam him back against the wall. The shadows rise to hold him there. My hand stays soft, fingers resting against his pulse.
“You want to keep pretending?” I whisper. “Keep lying to yourself?”
His breath is hot. He glares at me, hatred and heat twisting behind those blue eyes. “I would rather die than kneel for you.”
I lean closer. My lips brush his ear. “Oh, you’ll kneel. And you’ll look beautiful doing it.”
And with that, I fasten the collar.
It clicks shut, thorns locking into place like a jaw around his throat. It’s no bargain circlet, but it’s still a display. A symbol.
He chokes, muscles tensing, fingers clawing at the collar, but it’s already sealed. The leash glows into existence, stretching from his throat to the bracer around my wrist, pulsing with green fire.
Kel gasps and collapses forward onto his hands and knees, the barbs digging into his throat.
His head bows, hair pooling like snow around him. I drink in the sight of him.
“I’ll parade you through the heart of the Below,” I say. “Let them see you kneel. Let them see the High Prince of Winter, collared like an animal.”
“You’ll never keep me here,” he snarls, head still bowed.
“I think I will.” I crouch again, lowering myself beside him. My fingers trail through his hair. “You’re mine now, pet.”
His breath shakes. I can feel him fighting. Resisting. I let him.
Resistance makes it so much sweeter when they break.
“Later,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You’ll thank me.”
I pull the leash tighter.
Not enough to choke him. Just enough to remind him it’s here. That I’m here.
Keldarion stumbles behind me, barefoot on polished obsidian. His once-regal clothes have been reduced to scraps. His matted hair hides most of his face.
And still…he keeps his head high.
I hate him for it.
I ache for him because of it.
He walks like a prince even when I’ve stripped him of everything. Even when the thorns bite at his throat and every step sends a whisper of pain through his collar. The leash in my hand thrums with his resistance. His hope.
Gods, I should have broken that by now.
The courtyard of my palace is packed full.
They came when summoned, as they always do: ghouls in twisted finery, false scholars with eyes like polished bone, would-be warlords dressed in gold filigree and decay.
The citizens of the Below, my people, leaning over balconies of black stone to get a better look.
They know what this is.
They love a spectacle.
Rosalina walks ahead of me. The gown I had made for her is a masterpiece, dark velvet with green embroidery, a low back that shows off all that beautiful skin.
She looks like my queen, even if she still refuses to accept it. But with no magic of her own, she must play along. I offered her a promise.
If she does what I say, I’ll keep Keldarion alive.
So she lifts her chin and walks beside me. But I see the way her hands tremble. How her shoulders tense when the chain scrapes stone. She’s feeling every bite of Kel’s pain as if it were her own.
Unfortunate thing about mate bonds.
And I can’t decide if I admire her…or if it makes me want to shatter her as I will Keldarion.
It’s so fun to see how your favorite things break and can be put back together anew.
I wonder absently if my mother will come.
She rarely descends from Nether Reach anymore, and when she does, it’s only to commune with the Baron, preferring his company to mine. If only she knew my father covets her death as much as I do. He knows how dangerous she can be. I suppose even gods fear.
I glance toward one of the upper balconies of my palace, where she usually observes the gatherings.
Nothing.
Fine. Let her miss this. I don’t need her.
We reach the base of my throne made of briars and ascend the steps.
I halt. The chain goes taut and Kel drops to his knees. He catches himself on trembling hands, glaring at the floor as if it insulted him. He says nothing, his breaths steady and slow.
The hall hushes.
I step forward, turning to face the crowd, and lift the leash. “Behold, High Prince Keldarion of Winter. Sworn Protector of the Realms. The fae who called down the stars. And now…” I pause, glance at him. “Mine.”
A hiss of delighted laughter ripples through the courtyard, followed by whispers. Kel’s shoulders tense.
I circle him, dragging the chain across my fingers. I want my citizens to feel this moment. To see how far a prince can fall.
“I brought you here not for celebration but revelation,” I say, letting my voice rise. “Not to toast this conquest but to witness the cost of defiance. The seasonal realms thought they could take on the Below. They were wrong.”
I stalk behind Kel. One hand tangles in his hair, lifting his head to show the bruises at his throat, the cut at his cheek, the long slashes along his shoulders.
Rosalina gasps, forming fists at her sides.
I ignore her and address the crowd. “If the most powerful of the high princes cannot defy us, then no one can.”
Kel’s breath sharpens.
I lean closer, whispering against his ear, “Tell them.”
No answer.
Louder now. “Tell them you saw this coming. Gods know you would never shut up about it. You knew what I would become. This was always my destiny.”
He stares up at me, blue eyes blazing.
“Cas,” he says, “I was wrong.”
The leash goes cold in my hand.
He keeps talking. “I should have trusted you. Trusted our love. And yet even here, I find I love you still.”
Laughter dies as the hall quiets. Rosalina’s breath stutters.
I stare at him. And for a second, for one cursed heartbeat, I forget where I am.
If you love me, kill me. Kel, you should have killed me. Something wet streaks across my cheek.
He stares at me. My love was too great to obey that.
“Liar,” I say.
Other voices filter in, laughter and murmurs from the crowd. They came to watch the Winter Prince humiliated. Not…whatever this is.
Keldarion shakes his head. “You can make me kneel. But you’ll never make me lie.”
His words land sharper than a blade between my ribs. Not hate but love.
Not the venom I craved. Not the fury I needed. Just that same quiet, pathetic love offered up, a gift he knows I’ll never take.
Rosalina has been a bad influence on the High Prince of Winter.
And she’s watching him now, eyes shining, like he’s every star in the damn sky.
But there are no stars in the Below.
My jaw tightens. Green flames roar to life around me, surging up from the cracks in the stone. The crowd gasps.
Rosalina flinches. “Cas, it’s alright.”
But I don’t look at her. I don’t look at anyone.
Except him.
“You should have ended me when you had the chance,” I snarl. “Because now you’ll pay for every lie you called love.”