Chapter 4 #2
I peer from around the stone arch I’m hiding within.
Gone. He’s gone.
I press my back to the stone wall and swallow. I’m still half in the shadows. He can’t see me. But he’ll have sensed me.
Wind stirs through the ruins.
I can almost hear a roughened laugh.
He’s hunting me, and we both know it.
Sound whispers to the left of me—perhaps a boot on stone.
I turn right and slam directly into a hard chest. It’s almost an exact reenactment of the night I first met him.
Gloved hands capture my forearms and the prince’s shadow falls over me. He tears me back out of the shadows, and the shock of sudden light is near blinding. My fae half protects me from the burn of sunlight, but it still hurts my eyes.
“Here you are,” he breathes, his voice rough-edged with delight.
He’s real. Real and solid, and I can smell his cologne—something spicy that never fails to twist my insides. Hot, golden eyes lock upon me. He’s not even bothering to hide the dragon within him—or maybe now I know it’s there, I can see it.
The first time I laid eyes upon him, he’d been a target, a means to an end.
I’d been focusing so hard on my mission—get into the Court of Dreams, ensure nobody broke my cover as the Lady Merisel, and find the Dragon’s Heart—that I’d relegated the actual prince of the court to merely a male I needed to avoid.
Instead, he was everything I could have dreamed of.
I was wraithenborn. A monster in a fae world.
And if I looked back on the events of this summer, it’s easy to see where I went wrong.
The first time a boy kissed me, I was sixteen and preparing for my final trials.
The kiss took me by surprise—he was the son of one of my trainers, brought in to spar with me over the autumn—and until that final night, neither of us had thought the best of the other.
He was handsome, cocky, frustratingly arrogant. I didn’t even really care for him.
Five of the trainees make it through the final trials, and our particular year was incredibly competitive.
I’d spent half the night polishing my blades and trying to calm my racing heart, when Rian gave me a piece of information about the forthcoming trials that might save my life.
Maybe he felt sorry for me. Maybe those hours of earnest sparring had earned me some slight reprieve.
After years of barely daring to let another into my life, his kindness made me falter where nothing else could have.
It was the first time I let down my walls.
And when I survived, I fell into his bed with a desperation neither of us could quench.
I needed some sort of connection to another living being after Soraya’s betrayal.
I wanted to be something else, someone else.
I wanted to bury myself in Rian’s arms and pretend I was merely a fae princess somewhere in the Blessed lands, holding onto her beloved.
Except, it was very clear I wasn’t.
A month later, I was brought to court, where I was raised among my father’s personal guard, and Rian vanished back into the army. I never saw him again.
Stolen kisses whilst I was sent into the world were all I had.
Sex became a little secret pleasure I stole for myself whenever I was on a mission and a stranger caught my eye.
It was a moment of pretend. Just for a night I could snuggle into another’s arms and dream that I would wake in the morning in a new life, with a new destiny.
I could be a princess in a land where food was never in short supply, I didn’t have to lock my door every night, and nobody would ever beat me again.
I wanted that dream so badly that every night when I slipped beneath my sheets, I would conjure a nameless, faceless prince who would steal me away from my wretched life and make me happy.
And then I was sent to steal Keir’s heart.
I knew the moment my father’s spymaster set his file into my hands that he was different to my usual marks.
The small miniature of his face barely did him justice, but at the time his green-gold eyes had made my breath catch.
A ruling fae prince of a mysterious land, handsome and dangerous and wickedly sinful.
Every mention of the Court of Dreams promised everything I could ever want.
The night before I set out to break into the Court of Dreams was the first night my dream-like lover had a face.
It was safe.
Nothing could come of it.
I would slip into his court, get a better glimpse of the dream, and then steal his relic and never have to see him ever again. There were nineteen other princesses vying for his attention. He would never choose me.
And to ensure this fact, I made myself absent from the group gatherings where he would be present. I gave him a polite smile, and disengaged from any of his attempts to draw me into a conversation.
I made a fatal mistake.
Of course a dangerous fae prince is going to chase the one woman who doesn’t seem to like him.
He had nineteen princesses kissing his polished boots.
Of course he was going to set his sights on the one who barely gave him a hint of attention.
No matter what I did, he found ways to tempt me out of the role.
We flirted. We dined. There was a breathless moment where I even began to forget why I was there.
And the worst thing was… I liked him.
Truly liked him.
When I asked him what he wanted, he whispered that he dreamed of a queen to rule at his side. Someone to love. Someone he could trust with his whole heart. It was like he conjured my own dreams to life and then instantly set a sword to them.
Because the woman he dreamed of wasn’t me.
I was bound to betray him.
Nothing has changed.
But those wretched old feelings resurface just long enough to make my throat thicken, and then Keir’s lashes flutter low over his eyes, and he brushes his thumb against my cheek. “I almost didn’t think you were going to come.”
My heart skips a beat. “I was the one who asked you to be here.”
“We both know you tell lies.”
For a second, I think he’s going to kiss me, and panic flares. He’s only ever kissed me once, and that was to bind me to him.
I don’t even know why I’m thinking of kissing.
“Your Highness,” I blurt.
“So formal.” He hasn’t let go of me. “Considering I once overheard you call me His Royal Studliness.”
“I didn’t say that. That was Calliope.”
He arches a brow, and I’m reminded of all the ways I shouldn’t mention that name—mostly because she tried to kill both of us.
“Where did you go? You were in my dreams, and then you were gone.”
“I woke.”
Something dangerous lurks in his eyes. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.” I push past him, desperate for some space. “Isn’t that how one escapes a dream?”
“Not mine.” Keir’s voice is a shiver over my skin as he prowls after me. “Once you’re in my dreams, Zemira, you can’t escape me. So I would like to know how you achieved it.”
I drowned.
I still the shiver fighting to break free.
I’m not going back there to that time and place, not even in my own memories.
I’m alive, in the here and now, basking in the warmth playing over my skin.
If life has taught me anything, it’s to never look back.
“Perhaps your power isn’t as absolute as you would like to think it is. ”
His eyes narrow, and I’m fairly certain I haven’t convinced him. Those dangerous eyes rove over me. “I like the vest.” His gaze turns hot. “I like the breeches too. Much better than the silk and lace you once pretended to thrive in. This suits you.”
“It’s easier to move in than the pretty gowns I once wore.” I shoot him a challenging look. “Did you bring what I need?”
Keir gestures me toward the carriage, his eyes glinting with challenge. “As my lady commands.”
Don’t call me that. But it’s the plan, after all. And it’s my plan.
Two servants haul a trunk down from the carriage even as I studiously ignore him.
A simple flip of the latch, and there it is.
The perfect weapon.
I wince as I pick up the corset on top of the pile of gowns. “I’d almost forgotten how uncomfortable all of this is.”
“If you want to be invited in,” Keir murmurs, “then you have to look the part, my lady Merisel.”
I hate that name so much.
“It bothers you, doesn’t it?”
“What?”
“Her name.” Keir leans his back against the carriage, turning just his head to look at me.
I shake out the dress on the top of the pile.
The silk feels surreal beneath my callused fingers.
Little chips of diamond glitter from where they’re sewn into the skirts.
“It’s just a name. Just an alias. I’ve spent my entire life slipping them on and off like old clothes.
” I can’t help arching a brow. “This is cut to my size perfectly. Is it real?”
“No. It’s crafted entirely from my dreams,” he purrs. “Careful, or I might simply make it all vanish, right in the middle of the wedding.”
I nearly drop the gown. “What?”
“You wanted a distraction, did you not?” He actually rolls his eyes as my jaw drops open. “It’s real, Zemira. It’s all been made just for you.”
“You have an entire trunk of clothes cut to my size?” Not even a brownie with the best homespun magic can simply magic up an entire wardrobe of clothes like this.
“I like to be prepared,” he says. “I have a year and a day of your service, and if I need you to do something for me, then I don’t want to have to wait until you have a wardrobe.
” His gold eyes lock on me mockingly. “You have an entire suite of rooms awaiting you at my palace. You have a wardrobe of gorgeous gowns. You have books. You have a set of goblin-forged knives, spelled to cut through any ward and keyed to your hand only. Everything you might need and desire.”
“Goblin-forged knives?”