Page 3 of A Fate of Ice and Lies (Fated #1)

Loud chatter, laughter, and music greeted me as I stepped into the tavern, where I could no longer taste our endless winter on my tongue.

Smells from the kitchen wafted in the air, making my stomach rumble.

Always eager for a meal, I lifted a single finger to the male standing behind the bar, indicating I’d like whatever the cook of the day was preparing.

“Want me to bring it to you?” Goeffrey asked, his toothy grin exposing his straight, smooth teeth common for his species of fae.

With a quick shake of my head, I ran my tongue over my two sharp canines.

They could cut through an enemy as easily as it could bring pleasure to a mate.

For my species of faerie, biting was as intimate as sex, both in battle and in pleasure.

It was why I rarely bit when fighting unless I needed to force my opponent into submission.

Our body rejected blood that didn’t belong to our mate and could make us sick to our stomach for hours.

But drinking from our mate—while I’d never get the opportunity—could be intoxicating and pleasurable.

“I’ll come back for it when it’s done,” I told Goeffrey.

“And his highness will be paying our tabs again tonight.” Amil, a familiar drunk male, slapped my shoulder with a good-natured laugh.

I grinned back, making his rosy cheeks lift higher. “ Whatever it takes so I don’t have to serve meals to the lot of you.”

That earned me a boisterous laugh from the other patrons, who had no idea how close they’d come to death mere hours ago. Had Nalari not gotten there in time. . .

“Not gotten there in time?” She scoffed. “Don’t insult me.”

“Don’t make me block you,” I warned her, slightly lifting my mental shields.

A thrill ran through me at the idea of taunting her in such a way.

“You mean like you did when you asked your parents to let you go to the human realm?” She huffed.

I stumbled at her words.

“You’re fae,” she reminded me. “I’m a dragon and a Guardian. Your shields can’t block me, Elias.”

I grumbled before I tuned back in to the conversation directed at me.

“So long as you stay out of the kitchen, we’ll pick up your slack,” an older female named Edwina tossed back.

With another chuckle, I made my way to the back of the tavern.

My closest friends, who were more like my siblings, sat beside the hearth where a fire blazed behind them.

Or maybe not blazed, as the fire we kept in our kingdom never ran hot.

Either we had become accustomed to the constant snow that fell year-round, aside from the three months of sunshine, without any snowfall, or our snow wasn’t very cold.

A fishing rod and net lay across the mantel as a memorial to the tavern’s father, Timothee, who’d passed away two seasons ago while on one of his many fishing expeditions.

He was one of the lucky few the Elder Guardians had chosen for such expeditions.

We’d learned a lot from his talks with those sacred dragons and longed for the Elders to choose another worthy fae to speak and walk among them.

Below the picture of Timothee’s proud face, a calligrapher had inscribed:

By order of the Guardians, protectors of those who pledge their lives to the revered king and queen, the kingdom of Niev is a peaceful realm with peaceful beings. Any fae found in misdeeds or misgivings will be judged by the Guardians. Be warned and remain in the favor of the Guardians.

It was a warning of a time when brutal forms of punishment were required, and it made me grateful that the kingdom I’d one day inherit was more peaceful than it used to be.

While we still had to battle the darker creatures and fae in our realm, our citizens rarely fought against each other.

And if they did, it was usually a small scuffle between friends.

Brew sloshed over the rim of my friend’s mug as he raised it toward me. I jutted my chin out to him in greeting while he slapped me on the back, making more brew spill from his mug.

I waved a hand over my wet breeches, barely noticing when they dried with the slight use of my magic.

“My mistake, your royalness,” Brenton joked, placing a hand on his flat stomach as he gave me a dramatic mock bow from his seat at his usual stool.

He was always the jester, the first to try to lighten the mood or find a joke in almost any situation, so I was used to Brenton’s teasing.

My friends and I expected that from him, and my parents not only tolerated it but they also enjoyed it.

He brought a lightness to our small group of friends, something I wasn’t sure we would’ve attained on our own.

I took his mug from him, and before he could mutter a protest, I drank the contents in one swallow. Brenton’s hazel eyes danced in amusement, making the gold hue flash to resemble a burst of sunshine. Despite the humor that played across his expression, his canines elongated to brush past his lips.

“You know how our young prince hates it when you comment on his bloodline,” my other friend George said, joining in on the teasing.

“Careful or he’ll drink your brew too.” Brenton’s scowl didn’t match the lighthearted lilt of his voice.

“I’ll do you one better and grab you a drink myself.” With that, George stood from his stool and made his way to the bar, where he hopped over the counter.

While George enjoyed ribbing me just as much as Brenton, he was a bit more levelheaded.

He knew when to tone it down, whereas Brenton just barreled through most situations.

And although George had a sensitive streak he liked to ignore, he was the one I’d count on the most to have my back in battle.

He could smother the feelings that came after a killing.

If Uncle Hudson hadn’t prided a female whose magic’s sole purpose was to kill, he would’ve made George his second. He’d even considered it before he chose Finley.

Once George finished filling two mugs, Goeffrey, who’d taken my order, handed my meal to George.

Back at our table, my friend and brother handed me my drink, and I raised it in salute.

“To our fallen?” George asked in a hushed whisper. He hunched his wide shoulders, his orange-red hair draping over them to his waist.

Not wanting to draw attention to us, I nodded, and the rest of my friends joined me in raising our brew in silent remembrance .

Aside from their families who’d be notified of their deaths, that was all the public commemoration our fallen got, although they’re families would hold a private ceremony to guide their loved ones into the afterlife.

“I still don’t understand your laws that prohibit you from speaking of your fallen warriors,” Nalari said. “They deserve better.”

I ran a tired hand over my jaw. “I don’t disagree with you,” I said. “But it’s been done this way since the Elder Guardians killed all the mages. When the people think they’re safe, they maintain peace.”

“When the people think they’re safe, they don’t know how to defend themselves from the danger that almost killed them today.”

“I can’t change the laws,” I said in a frustrated groan. “Speak to your Elders if you want change.”

She let out a disgruntled huff. “You’ll tear down the veil for your human.” Her distaste for the female came through our bond, and I growled. “But you won’t speak to your parents about a ridiculous law that disrespects your dead.”

“You know I’ve spoken to them about ? —”

“I don’t care.” She yawned. “It’s your dead and your people, not mine.”

With that, she snapped our connection, throwing up the mental shield I apparently couldn’t.

“I heard a rumor,” Everly, the only female in our small group, said, leaning toward us. Her silver hair spilled over her shoulders, so she pulled it back and put it up in a sloppy bun that made her large, pointy ears more noticeable.

“You and your rumors,” I teased, not really feeling the jest but wanting to keep our mood light.

Everly shoved my shoulder hard, and caught unaware, I fell off the stool onto the wooden planks of the floor.

Before I took my place back on the stool, she and my other two friends had stolen food from my plate, leaving me with only a few potatoes and half the beans I’d originally been served. At least the meat stayed untouched.

I ripped my fork from Everly’s hold, making Brenton snort as I shoveled the food greedily into my mouth before the fools I considered my closest friends could take more.

And they were my closest friends. The ones I’d been able to count on since we’d met at military school.

Brenton in the mismatched attire the orphanage had managed to scrounge together for him.

Everly with her knowledge of Niev’s history.

Her strong desire to not only make her warrior mother proud but also my parents, making her loyal to the crown and to me, as her prince and friend.

Then there was George with his quick temper that faded as suddenly as it rose.

We were inseparable, even sharing a four-bedroom house together in Somnio, where we fell into every evening after a day of training or battle. Where we shared food and laughter. Where we argued and fought, sometimes with fists, but always came back together.

“Don’t let us keep you,” George said with the same flirtatious wink that infuriated Everly. When Everly growled, George grinned, and I knew his every taunt and jest was because of that exact frustration he pulled from her. “What’s the rumor?”

“Wink at me again, and I’ll pierce your pretty eyes out,” Everly grumbled. She crossed her toned arms over her chest and glared at George with enough heat to burn the tavern.

In reply, George fluttered his lashes. “You think my eyes are pretty, do you?”

“The anticipation is killing us, Everly,” I deadpanned, trying to intervene before Everly and George started arguing. Again.

Everly lifted her full lips in a snarl while George’s grin grew.