Chapter Eleven
Prince Kiernan
If I could, I would live in that moment from last night forever.
Her rage had finally overwhelmed me, and my need to have her roared free like a caged animal breaking its chains.
Nothing prepared me for the taste of her—warm sunlight and desperate heat.
When she opened for me, when her tongue met mine, I couldn’t get enough.
Her need matched my own as she pulled me closer, and my erection strained against her, every primal instinct screaming at me to press between her thighs where I knew she’d be wet and ready.
And then she said my name.
Simply Kiernan.
Not Prince. Not bastard. My name from her lips reached into my chest and caressed something vital, something I didn’t know could be touched. It took every ounce of strength not to throw her to the floor and taste every inch of her.
Then she left.
Shut that damn door right in my fucking face.
Now I’m making my way to my father’s personal office, summoned by the King himself, and all I can think about is that kiss.
He probably wants to discuss the Equitae threat again, more orders for the Thorn Guards.
I should be focused on strategy. Instead, I’m remembering the heat of her mouth, the way it felt against mine in that stolen moment.
The warmth that spread through my entire body, electric and all-consuming.
The softness of her lips, the gentle pressure, the way time seemed to stop completely.
I force the memory away, banishing it before I enter a meeting with my father with evidence of my yearning for more.
I’m admitted at once when I knock. King Malaxor stands with his back to me, looking out the window. When he turns, I see his temper hasn’t abated since yesterday evening.
“They are too bold, Kiernan,” he hisses. “Have we grown too complacent? They don’t fear us as they should. We need to destroy them.”
The maniacal flash in his eyes is still there. He’s losing control. And King Malaxor losing control of his Thorn Gift isn’t good for anyone.
“Your Thorn Guards will do their job,” I say carefully. “With the extra Amplifier Fae, they’ll be unstoppable. Strike them where it hurts. Take the battle to Heartwood.”
He smirks, reaching for a scroll on the shelf. He spreads it across his desk, slamming down weights at each corner to hold it open.
The map shows Kaladia in far more detail than the one in the Main Office. He traces his finger from the Castle of Thorns in the south, up across Deeproot Crevice, past where the Whispering Glade used to be, through the Glass Thread—a deep gorge where a great river once ran—up into Heartwood.
We discuss attack strategies, numbers of Thorn Guards and Amplifier Fae. He starts to calm as we form a plan.
“If I didn’t follow Earthbound Fae customs so diligently, I would have you married and bonded to that bitch right now.” His voice cuts through the tactical discussion like a blade. “We need your Gift stronger. You need to be out there leading this army with the General.”
My jaw tenses at how he speaks about her, but I keep my words careful. His grip on control is still tenuous.
“The wedding isn’t far off now.” My heart skips saying it aloud. Not long until she’s mine and he can’t touch her.
“Not quick enough. Once we get the Commitment Ball out of the way, we’ll have the wedding soon after. This plan can’t wait.”
I’m still processing what this implies when someone knocks on the door.
“Come in!” King Malaxor shouts.
I look up, and my chest jolts.
Alaya stands in the doorway, looking so radiant it almost hurts to look. I glance at my father in confusion.
“Alaya is here for a meeting with me,” he says.
“Oh. I didn’t realise. I’ll leave.” I start to rise.
“No. You’ll stay.” He motions to the chair across from his desk. “Please, sit, Alaya.”
She doesn’t look nervous. She’s surprisingly at ease in this office, and that realisation sends ice through my veins. Has she been here before? Alone with him? Why?
“Thank you for coming again,” he says.
Again. The word confirms my fears. What has he done?
“I’m not sure what else you could want from me, Your Majesty,” she says.
“Last time, you told me of your Desolate state. I know this upsets you, and I had an idea.” The gleam in his eyes makes my skin crawl.
“Kiernan, I want you to use your Amplifier Gift on her.”
Horror floods through me. I’ve used my Gift on the Thorn Guards countless times, but never on anyone else. And I’ve only ever amplified innate abilities—never affected another’s Gift. Alaya is Desolate. She has no Gift. Where would my power go? What if it hurts her?
I shake my head and back away from the desk, but the King grabs my arm. His nails dig deep into my forearm, right through the sleeve of my robe.
I look at Alaya. Her face nearly makes my legs buckle. She looks petrified—eyes wide and searching, mouth slightly open in shock.
“Father …”
He leaps around the desk, hauling her up from the chair by her arm. He stands behind her, one arm snaking over her shoulders and pressing into her throat, the other around her waist, pinning her arms.
“Do it!” he shouts.
I hope she can see the conflict on my face. I hope she knows that if I had a choice, I wouldn’t be doing this. But he’s more powerful than me—my father and the King. To defy him is courting death, no matter who you are.
She slumps in his embrace as I move around the desk. My Gift thrums beneath my skin, responding to my panic, to his command. I coax it closer to the surface until it sparks just below my fingertips.
Whatever small amount of trust she has in me will shatter. I make the mistake of looking into those violet eyes—the same eyes that looked at me full of passion and need last night, those long dark lashes that fluttered with pleasure.
“No!”
The word tears from my throat before I can stop it.
King Malaxor lets out a low growl, his eyes fixed on me. He releases her, throwing her towards the door. She nearly trips but grabs the handle before she falls.
“Leave,” he says, snarling.
She looks between us. When her wide eyes reach mine, I nod.
“Go.”
She yanks the door wide and runs.
Alaya
I’ve never known a terror this absolute. The King’s presence saturates the room, a power so heavy it feels like water filling my lungs, making every breath a struggle. When his hand closes around me, my heart stutters and stops. I don’t just fear death—I feel it pressing against my skin.
I try to come to terms with it while Kiernan stands before me, his stare hard and cold. What mask will he wear to kill me? I’ve seen his power in action, and without a Gift to Amplify, it will tear me apart.
“No!” Kiernan roars, and my heart skips.
I’m thrown sideways towards the door. I barely grab the handle in time to stop my fall but manage to keep myself upright.
“Leave,” the King snarls.
I look instinctively to Kiernan. He nods.
“Go.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I pull with all my strength, the door flies open, and I run.
My breaths come quick and ragged as I sprint towards my suite. As I reach for the door handle, the terror begins to ebb—and guilt creeps in.
I left him there alone.
If anyone can handle the King’s wrath, it’s Kiernan. He’s grown up with this, learnt to navigate his father’s moods, to survive the most powerful Earthbound Fae in existence.
I’m nothing. No one. Which makes me all kinds of crazy when I find myself walking back towards the King’s personal office.
I’m not sure what I expect to do, whether it’s pure idiocy or these conflicting feelings for Kiernan driving me, but here I am, standing outside that door again. I don’t knock. I don’t try to enter.
Muffled voices rise from the other side. I’m about to knock when I hear it—a dull crack of wood against flesh, then a groan.
It continues.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
The groans become more pronounced with each strike, then fall silent. Footsteps approach the door. I panic, spotting a small alcove down the hall. I press myself into its shadows, praying they don’t come this way.
King Malaxor leaves first, striding away in the opposite direction.
Moments later, the door opens again. Kiernan emerges, holding his robe, pulling down his white shirt as he walks after his father.
I cover my mouth to stifle any sound. I want to cry out when I see the bright red blood seeping through the back of his shirt.
I step from the alcove and follow at a distance.
He strides down the hall with purpose, shrugging into his robe to cover the shirt now saturated with blood. When he reaches his suite, his hand rising to the knob, I call out.
“Kiernan.”
His hand freezes. He turns his head towards me, looking at me from beneath sweat-damp tendrils of hair. A sheen of sweat covers his face. One corner of his mouth rises.
“Why am I not surprised you didn’t listen when I told you to go?” He sighs.
“I did. I ran as far and fast as I could,” I admit, my voice still shaking. “I would have run straight through the main gate into the Barrens if I could. But I couldn’t. Not now.”
“You should, Alaya.” His voice is hollow, defeated. “Get as far from here as you can. From him and from me.”
“Did he beat you?” The words catch in my throat. “Is that why your back is bleeding?”
His face tenses, every muscle going rigid. His jaw clenches and twitches, a vein pulsing at his temple.
“You shouldn’t have seen that,” he says through gritted teeth, turning away from me. “Forget it and go back to your suite.”
“Why would he do that to you?” I press, taking a step closer despite the warning in his posture.
“He’s an animal,” he hisses, bitter and raw. His hands curl into fists at his sides. “In one way I’m lucky he doesn’t kill me, but he needs me. I take my punishment and move on.” He whirls back to face me, desperation flashing in his eyes. “Listen to me this time—just go.”
He turns back to the door and twists the handle. I don’t know what comes over me, but I can’t leave it at that. I sprint past him and block his way.