The Dark Prince's Green Bride

Chapter One

Serin

A dragonfly flirted with the water, skipping like a stone across the surface before taking flight on gossamer wings that reflected like stained glass in the early morning light.

My bones felt weighted and sluggish as I made my way toward the edge of the lake. The water called to me—a shivering sensation that moved down my spine, begging me closer, promising to ease the aches and pains assaulting every inch of my body from being away for too long.

“Hello,” I cooed to a little frog sitting on a lily pad, watching the surface of the water for his breakfast.

He looked over but didn’t startle or hop off.

We were old friends, the frogs and I.

They lived in my lake after all.

“I wouldn’t try it,” I warned as the dragonfly dove downward near him. “He’s way too big for you.”

I dipped my feet into the lake, feeling the cool water tease my ankles, feeling it sing in my veins, chasing away the soreness in my soles from the long walk over twigs and rocks and brambles all night.

Just before dusk, a sweet little duckling had gotten itself tangled in some vines at the edge of the lake. His duck family hadn’t realized and had taken off without him.

By the time I’d gotten the sweet thing untangled, his family was long gone and I’d needed to search the woods for hours to find them.

I slipped deeper into the water, my pale green dress billowing around my body as I walked out until the ground fell away, then let myself slip under.

Vitality spread through me, making the exhaustion that had been tugging at my bones, weighing on my eyes, slowly slip away.

Surfacing, I lay back on the surface, watching the sun dapple through the trees, warming my face.

The water rippled beside me, making me turn to see a snake wiggling through the water. The frog, giving up on breakfast, smartly hopped back to the land and disappeared.

At the bank, a fawn moved out of a clearing and lowered her lips to the water, drinking long after a night without.

The early mornings at my lake were my favorite, watching the wildlife come alive, drawn toward my water, knowing it would help sustain them.

I had no memory of coming here myself, of my origins. I just knew I’d always been here. Connected to the water. Blessed to have it nourish me.

There were days, back when curiosity got the worst of me, that I tried to venture away, wondering what else there might be in the world. But with each mile I trekked, I felt myself wasting away. I would return, angry and bitter to be drained.

But the years had erased my restlessness, had softened me, shown me the beauty of my home.

I couldn’t imagine leaving for more than just a few moments.

Below me, I felt a tug. One of the fish mistaking my dress for food.

With a smile, I lowered back under the surface, flipping over to watch all the life moving beneath me.

A pretty green bass swam up toward me.

But before he could get close, I felt it.

Them.

I felt them.

Hands reaching down.

Hands sinking in.

Grabbing.

Bruising.

The water muffled my scream, reducing it to a burst of bubbles as I was dragged up. Up.

I broke the surface, mouth open to cry out as pain shot up my arms and shoulders.

“No!” I shrieked, flailing, scratching, grabbing.

To no avail.

The man was a beast, each of his thighs nearly as wide as my entire body, his corded arms effortlessly pulling me up out of the water.

While beautifully removed from most of the world—and the evil therein—I wasn’t naive either.

I knew the dangers for women alone in the woods.

I knew the depravity of wicked men’s desires.

No corner of the world was safe from that kind of evil.

“Stop fighting,” the giant—maybe a troll, though I wasn’t wasting time noticing inconsequential details—roared.

Slippery, I managed to wrench one of my hands from his and felt myself partially dipping back into the water. The surge of vitality shot through me again, invigorating my efforts.

But instead of reaching again for my arm, the beast grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking viciously upward. Pain sliced across my scalp, sharp enough to make my eyes water. Another cry escaped me.

Sensing his upper hand, he wrapped the long, midnight strands around his meaty fist, turning, twisting, then dropping my other arm.

My full weight dropped, making the pinpricks of pain intensify as my lower half temporarily slipped back into the water.

“Don’t make her bald,” another voice called, sounding bored and unaffected by my cries as I was dragged to the bank, then up onto the land.

I scrambled up onto my knees, then feet, desperately trying to ease the pain.

“She’s fighting,” the giant grumbled.

“She’s a third your size,” the other man called back. “Hurry up, will you? He’s already angry.”

Who was angry?

And what could I possibly have to do with that?

I minded my business.

I avoided the other fae.

“Walk faster, bitch,” the giant snarled.

As if he was giving me a choice.

He grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me forward, fingers pulling hard enough for something to pop in my wrist, forcing me to run to keep up if I didn’t want him to dislocate it further.

“Faster,” the tall, skinny man ahead of us demanded, breaking into a spritely run.

A few steps in front of me, the giant let out a string of curses under his breath as his footsteps shook the ground when he forced his legs to carry him faster.

With his hand crushing my wrist, escape seemed impossible. So I let myself start noticing things: the trees we passed, the direction we were moving in.

The men taking me with them.

The giant, upon closer inspection, had to be a troll. Tall, broad, with stringy silver hair, green-tinged skin, and a wide, almost beak-like nose.

The fae in front of him was red-haired and spry. He was nothing distinctive. Judging by his demeanor and the company he kept, though, he had to be a Dark Fae.

I hoped to pass other fae, someone I could plead with for their assistance.

But there was nothing but the birds overhead and a single gnome who rushed off his mushroom at the sight of the troll and scurried away.

There was no one to help me.

And being outnumbered and outmuscled, my only hope for freedom was to outsmart them.

I had to calm down, to focus, to think.

Before I could even clear my mind, a sprawling mansion came into view.

I’d only ever seen a handful of actual homes in my time, and never one quite so grand.

It was a towering thing of dark gray stones, spires, turrets, vines, and heavily-shuttered windows.

“Throw her downstairs,” the redheaded fae called. “I’ll tell the boss.”

I was led around the house toward a set of wooden doors. The beast leaned down to wrench them open before pulling me down a set of jagged stone steps that bit at the soles of my feet.

The scents hit me first—damp earth and stale air.

“Stay,” the troll demanded, throwing me forward with enough force that I slammed hard into the stone wall.

The air knocked from my lungs, leaving me gasping, chest burning, heart racing as I struggled to draw in a proper breath.

By the time I managed one, the troll was already up the steps and slamming the door. The heavy wooden bar slid into place, trapping me inside.

I was alone.

I tamped down the panic at that word.

Alone was good.

Alone meant I could—possibly—escape. Or, at least, find a weapon to defend myself with when they came back for me.

It was darker than the deepest parts of my lake down here, and unlike with my water, I had no power here, no ability to see in the dark.

“Okay. Alright. You have to move,” I told myself, sucking in a few greedy breaths.

I pushed away from the wall, but stretched my good hand out toward it, running along it as I moved.

Beneath my feet, the packed-earth floor was damp and uneven, dropping low in some spots, climbing to small hills in others.

A chill shivered down my spine as something skittered across the top of my foot.

Alright.

So not completely alone, it seemed.

My wrist was throbbing, having a pulse of its own as I felt the skin expanding, swelling.

But there was no time to focus on the pain.

I kicked out a leg, feeling around in front of me as I moved, trying to find a spare piece of wood or glass. Something, anything I could use to defend myself.

“Come on. Come on,” I grumbled as I inched around the cavernous space, feeling nothing but dirt, moss, and what seemed to be the bones of a very small animal. Or, I thought, stomach sloshing, a small fae.

My foot touched something firm and cold, and I reached down with hopeful hands to pull whatever it was into my hand. It wasn’t a weapon. Too small. Too delicate. My hands traced over the surface, tracing the shape of the ceramic material from the vessel to the narrower neck and, finally, the cap.

It was some sort of flask.

Useless to defend myself.

But as my wet dress clung to my body, I had an idea.

I flipped off the cap, lifting the flask to sniff inside. Smelling nothing, I drew up my dress and lowered to my knees on the dirt floor, then carefully started to squeeze my lake water out of the material and into the vessel.

Once the material was wrung near dry, I squeezed out my long hair as well.

I didn’t know how long I was going to be kept captive, or when my next opportunity for escape might appear. But I did know that with each day, each hour, each minute spent away from my lake would slowly start to sap my life force.

It wasn’t a big flask.

And it wasn’t a lot of water.

But even just a drop could keep me from completely fading.

I had no idea what this was, but I did know I needed to have my wits about me.

Not wanting to have my flask seen or taken from me, I carefully ripped the lower few inches of my dress off—ignoring the screaming pain in my wrist when I tried to use it—and carefully tied the flask to my upper thigh.

Awkward? Yes.

But safe.

Hopefully.

Finished with that, I got back to my mission to find a weapon.

As I drew into the deepest, darkest parts of the cellar, I heard voices drifting down from the floor above.

I recognized the voice of the redheaded fae as I stretched up to my tiptoes to try to hear better.

“Stop fidgeting. We got the job done, didn’t we, Vrad?”

Vrad had to be the troll.

“It’s about damn time,” another, unfamiliar, voice said just a second before a door slammed. He sounded different from the other two fae—more polished, sophisticated. “We have to leave within the hour—where is she?”

My heartbeat thumped harder as a chill coursed through me.

Leave to go where?

I wouldn’t claim to know much about the world outside of my lake and its immediate ecosystem.

But I did know that my water teased the edges of both the Light and Dark realms. And that in the Dark, terrible things happened—the kind of things that would keep you awake at night, a chill in your soul at just the thought.

Work camps full of horrific abuse.

Black markets where lesser fae were sold to powerful families.

“We threw her in the cellar. Didn’t know what you wanted to do with her.”

“Can you two do anything right?” the man snapped. “Get her and bring her up here. We have to prepare her.”

Prepare me?

For what?

I swallowed hard, trying not to panic.

This was good, wasn’t it?

There was only one exit in the cellar.

If I was brought upstairs, there would be doors, windows. And, possibly, weapons, if a clean escape wasn’t an option.

I was no heroine, but I was as good as dead anyway if I couldn’t get back to my water.

I made my way across the filthy floor and toward the stairs. The last thing I wanted was to be manhandled again. Better to seem resigned to my fate than end up with another busted-up wrist.

The door creaked open.

Golden light streamed in.

And I was pulled out.

To what fate, I had no idea.

And even if you gave me my unending lifetime to think it through, I never could have guessed what was about to happen to me.