Chapter 3
RYDER
The air was thick and warm. It was nearly unbearable, definitely not suitable for a royal, let alone a prince.
Reaching up, I opened the vent on the roof, letting the cool ocean air trickle in and marginally relieve me from the misery of waiting.
I pulled back the blue-green curtain and scanned the newly formed group outside my carriage.
Women and men stood, expecting to see my father or me—I wasn’t sure which.
The marketplace was supposed to be the quickest stop of the day, yet I’d been sitting in the stuffy space for at least thirty minutes.
I thrummed my fingers in a simple rhythm against my knee, one I’d often used to get me through the long, boring meetings with my father.
It was a simple tic I’d picked up at an early age.
The action was strangely comforting when my emotions were bubbling and threatening to spill over.
If my father hadn’t ordered me to attend the last several scouting assignments, I’d have been at the castle relaxing with the pretty little thing I was forced to kick out of my bed that morning.
Instead, I was made to wait while my staff confirmed every female in the kingdom had either attended one of the last three balls or would attend the final one.
Otherwise, I might never find my mate, which was unacceptable in my father’s eyes.
The fact that it had taken as long as it had was mind-boggling.
Had I overlooked someone along the way? Maybe I hadn’t given the bond enough time to solidify.
Perhaps I’d be one of the many who’d never find their mate at all.
I shook my head, pushing the negative thoughts away.
Things had to work out. The land offered a mate to all who were worthy and, with my heritage, I had to be given someone—I only needed to find her.
And if push came to shove, I’d fake the bond in order to secure the throne. But that would be the last resort.
The door opened, and Roark poked his head in, being sure to block the crowd's view. His black locks dangled over his left eye. “Your Highness?”
“What is it?” I asked, suppressing the brimming frustration. “Are we finished?”
“No—well, yes,” Roark sputtered, “but … no.”
I exhaled. “Get on with it.”
Speaking with Roark was akin to parenting a child who’d barely learned to form a sentence—you had to pull the words out of his underdeveloped brain.
While I’d become decent at reading his cues and interpreting his ramblings, it was grueling at times.
After many years at my side, he was thankfully going to be reassigned later that week, and someone new would be rotated in.
“One woman refused the invitation.” Roark looked around the carriage, focusing on everything other than me.
I blinked at him. I’d understood the words he’d spoken, but the meaning behind them all strung together made little sense. “Why? Is she crazy? Drunk? Mad?”
Roark shrugged.
“What was the reason she gave?”
“Sh—she didn’t give a reason, Your Highness.” He bit his lip. “She only stated she wouldn’t attend.”
“Nothing else? Is she ill? Suffering? Is she on her deathbed and set to die by the end of the week?” Perhaps a dying mate would be the ultimate gift.
We could bond, share magic, and she’d be gone.
“Why would she not want to attend? Who wouldn’t want to be there?
Did you tell her the ball is in my honor?
” I flung out the questions rapidly as the guard looked to still be processing the first.
“Sh—she did say …” he said, hesitating.
I snapped, “Spit it out already!”
“She said if you wanted her to go, then you needed to invite her yourself.”
I flinched at the thought. Surely, she knew who I was. Who my father was. Did she think she was above attending? No amount of beauty could elicit that type of response; at least not from anyone in their right mind.
In my thirty-one years, I’d never had someone turn down a request. I’d even talked playmates into gladly sharing their desserts in my youth—made them think the idea was all their own.
“I suppose I need to meet this woman. Determine if she’s crazed and needs to be evaluated and locked away.” I exited the carriage before he could convince me otherwise.
With a large crowd, it was ill-advised for a royal to walk around without at least a dozen guards. But I wasn’t worried. I didn’t need them to keep me safe—I’d do it myself.
“Take me to her,” I demanded while moving toward the market square.
The group of people parted like the sea to a massive ship.
All bowed, several cried, and a few looked at me with fierce disdain.
Each reaction I welcomed, even the ones who’d hated me and everything my name stood for.
My father always said a sound ruler accepted the abhorrence with the adoration.
There was a balance which needed to exist in every great kingdom. To make every fae happy was impossible.
I stopped at the perimeter of the marketplace, where conversations still buzzed through the air. People clearly hadn’t realized they were standing in the presence of royalty. If I had expected to leave the carriage, I would have brought the horn players to announce my arrival.
“Where is she?” I asked Roark.
For a moment, he scanned before his gaze stopped at the center of the square. A petite woman with brown hair stood talking to her friends. Her curly locks hung just past her shoulders, and she wore a garnet-colored dress. She wasn’t stunning, but I’d bedded worse.
Roark followed my gaze. “No, Your Highness.” He lifted his finger and pointed to a nearby woman. “That is the female who refused the invitation.”
My vision narrowed on the woman wearing fitted tan pants and a near-matching shirt, both articles dirty as if she hadn’t bothered to launder them in at least a week.
A dark inked tattoo scrawled down one of her arms, tainting her skin.
Her long brown hair was greasy, the locks straight and separated—no doubt weighed down from body oils. A long bath would do her well.
“Her?” I frowned, hoping he would tell me I again had set my sights on the wrong female.
Roark nodded and kept his attention on her. The conversations surrounding us slowed, but she seemed not to notice. She bit into a dirty, half-eaten carrot while engaged in conversation with a dark, curly-haired man. Though she wasn’t much to look at, there was something interesting about her.
“Send the invitation over to her on a gentle wind,” I ordered while the growing crowd continued to hush.
Roark nodded, held the invitation on the palm of his hand, and blew out a breath. It was barely enough to float the paper up before he raised his hand and sent a stream of air magic out.
The invitation dipped and rose as it made its way across the square, a beautiful dance on a draft. Several people gasped at the sight, likely not remembering what it looked like to see magic conjured right in front of them. While everyone watched, my eyes remained locked on the target. My target.
The aqua paper landed inside an empty crate on the cart in front of her.
She looked down and eyed it suspiciously.
Seconds later, her vision popped up, scanning for the source of the invitation.
I stood and waited for her stare to meet mine.
When it did, I stepped toward her and watched as her mouth fell open.
The area hushed, the crowd’s attention divided between the woman and me. It was an odd feeling to have someone other than my father draw attention away, but I was gripped too.
By the time I made it to her, everyone had bowed except for one—her. A guard on my left roared at her, shouting orders and pushing the woman down to the ground.
I bolted to her side, shouting commands as I went down, “Don’t touch her! Get away!” My gaze darted over her strong curves, assessing for injuries.
“Yes … yes, Your Highness,” the guard spluttered, “apologies.”
He hadn’t acted out of line. In fact, I appreciated when the defiant were put in their place, but the woman wasn’t contemptuous. Rather, my presence surprised her, as it did many others.
I helped her to her feet, where she offered a bow. “Apologies, Prince Sutton.” The woman looked up, letting her hazel eyes land on me like a feather on the breeze.
I cleared my throat and gathered my composure. “What is your name?”
“Audryn,” the woman responded, her voice soft on her full, pink lips.
“And your family name?”
She shook her head, her brows furrowing. “Is that required to address you?”
Her posture changed; her body rigid and mouth flattening into a thin line. Whatever desire I suspected she’d had for me vanished in an instant. I’d somehow offended her.
Drawing back, I frowned. “I suppose it’s not.” Never had someone refused to provide their family name. “I was told you wouldn’t attend the ball, unless given a personal invitation.”
“That is incorrect,” she remarked curtly, casting a bored expression.
I floated my eyes to Roark, who shrugged and mouthed words I couldn’t begin to decipher. I turned back to Audryn. “Was that not what you told Guard Roark?”
“It was not.”
I thrummed my fingers against the hilt of my sword as my face heated. She was flat-out hostile. Looking around at the murmuring crowd, I continued, “Please share the conversation as you see it.”
She smirked. “I said, if I were to be invited, it was only reasonable for you to invite me yourself. I never stated I would attend.” She looked up at me from under her long lashes. “Even if the prince himself were to invite me, I had no plans of accepting.”
My jaw worked, biting back obscenities too improper to speak in front of the crowd. To show frustration was to show weakness, and I would not be perceived as weak. And certainly not at the hands of an antagonistic female. If I wanted an argument, I’d seek one later with my father.
“I see.” I attempted to keep my tone airy. “This is the last ball before I announce my engagement. You’d be doing yourself a disservice if you chose not to attend.”
“Is that an option?” Audryn looked at Roark. “Because your oaf said it wasn’t.”
For the first time in a long time, I stood silent, words escaping me as my breath picked up. Her attitude was enraging, but I should have expected such given her appearance—she obviously didn’t care what anyone thought of her.
“I imagine you don’t need someone like me there.” She pushed. “From what I hear, you have plenty of women to choose from.”
What was I supposed to say? Yes, I do in fact need every female to attend. Was I to admit that if I did not find a mate with Divine magic, my father would give the throne to my sister and her idiot husband? That information was none of her or anyone else’s business.
“Who wouldn’t want to attend? It will be an evening full of food, entertainment and—” I paused, considering just how much I didn’t even want to go. “Well, I will be there.”
“I have no interest unless I am forced to be present.” Audryn crossed her arms over her chest.
“I do not need to force anyone to attend,” I barked back, knowing fully that this was exactly why I was there.
“She’ll attend,” the timid male at her side interjected. “I’ll get her there myself if necessary.”
“Benton!” Audryn snapped. “Don’t speak for me!”
“Each guest is allowed an escort.” I smiled at the man and then turned my attention back to Audryn. “The Crown is delighted to hear of your acceptance. Please provide your address on the return to any guard, as well as your escort’s information. I’ll see you there.”