Page 5

My gaze connected with Nazarril’s, the king of the elves.

He stood on the minstrel balcony as he’d done yesterday—overseeing this summit like some benevolent angel.

His eyes narrowed a fraction; lips pursed at the corners—obviously not pleased that we were late.

A quick glance at the giant clock on the opposite wall indicated we were only two minutes late.

King Nazarril cleared his throat as we took our seats. Further hinting at his irritation.

I glared openly up at him.

Hell, what a prickly son of a bitch.

“Careful there, little brother.” A soft snicker. “Wouldn’t want to see you turn into a pillar of ice.”

A glance out the corner of my eye showed my brother, Solarus, eyeing me with a devious grin.

Undoubtedly, the bastard would like to see me get into an altercation with another royal for the pure hell of it.

He was mischievous that way. As the middle sibling, I figured he’d been overlooked as a child and formed a twisted ideal of what it meant to entertain oneself .

Everyone knew of the elf king’s power over the ice element.

Many feared being turned into an ice pillar and suffering for centuries, unable to breathe yet still being held alive, encased in ice under his magic.

Whispers across the lands said it was an unfathomable suffering to undergo.

I found such fears oddly amusing. Course, having elemental fire brought a certain immunity to ice.

I scoffed under my breath. “Please,” I grumbled. “My elemental fires would roast him before he could even lift a finger at me.”

Sol leaned closer, his warm breath fanning my cheek—shoulder-length raven hair brushing my shoulder. “Want to wager a bet on that? Five hundred Earo, you walk with an icicle up your ass for a week.”

I flipped him off. A dark chuckle met my ears, only to be cut off with a grunt. Alaria must’ve socked him in the side again. I smirked. Our little sister always did know how to rein Solarus back in. She might as well have placed a bit between his teeth.

Movement out the side of my eye snagged my focus.

I turned, and my blood began pumping through my veins like pistons.

Ember Vaughan stepped into the Great Hall.

Murmurs undulated from the werewolves already seated, yet I paid them no mind.

I couldn’t tear my eyes from the female before me.

My fingers twitched as if they remembered the feel of her soft curves as I held her tucked against me the previous night.

She walked with her shoulders rolled back, chin slightly notched with authority.

Her soft auburn waves cascaded down her back like crimson ribbons of the finest silk.

My hands itched to sift through them, measuring their softness.

The soft lavender gown cinched in at the waist accentuated the flare of her hips, the mound of her breasts rounding to tempt me beneath the heart-shaped neckline.

Desire pooled low in my gut. I unsheathed my phantom claws, weapons of shadow, the talons pricking my thighs in an attempt to cool down my building lust. Now was not the time to get a hard-on.

Ember strode past the noble wolves and took her place in the row behind her parents.

Then, I spotted the dark crescents that clung to the skin beneath her eyes, the way her shoulders hunched forward once she’d sat, as if weariness seized hold of her limbs and robbed her of strength.

A notch of concern flared within my chest. I almost shot to my feet—demanded to know what was wrong, except…

I did not have the right to be concerned with her, nor should I be.

A fae didn’t inquire about his enemy’s health.

I remained in my seat, stiffened, biting the inside of my cheek till I tasted the iron tang of blood.

“Now that we’re all in attendance,” the elf King said, shooting a crossed look at Ember. She ducked her head in embarrassment, and my talons flexed, yearning to disembowel the bastard for making her feel uncomfortable. “Shall we begin the summit?”

“I have an announcement to make,” King Tridar spoke up.

King Asar of the werewolves scowled at my father. King Tridar sensed his piercing stare and held his glare with a cool expression. “I believe, King Asar, that you will want to hear what I have to say.”

Tension percolated to stifling proportions amongst both kings. This resulted in their people present casting each other dark gazes, soft snarls, and bared teeth. After a long pregnant pause, King Asar said in a dark voice, “Get on with it. ”

Growls of incense peaked from the shadow fae, but King Tridar decided to ignore the cool command. He rosed to his feet, commanding the room’s whole focus. All eyes riveted to the King of the shadow fae. Then I saw his gaze flicker to Ember Vaughan for a brief heartbeat. My veins filled with ice.

“For centuries,” King Tridar began. “Our people have been at war, with no hope of ever having peaceful relations with each other.” His gaze roved over each werewolf on the opposite side of the Great Hall. My heartbeat rang in my ears, nearly drowning out his words as cold realization chilled me.

Shit, shit, shit!

“We had no reason for seeking peace,” King Tridar continued. “Until now.”

His earlier words echoed in my mind like a twisted mantra.

Besides, you’ll find out soon enough…

My mouth emptied of moisture.

Turning his gaze to Ember Vaughan, King Tridar announced in a booming baritone, “I hereby give my son, Prince Drakegeon Ashar Evenus, to Ember Vaughan, as a mate.”

The whole room erupted into chaos. Voices yowled in protest from the werewolves. Even the shadow fae nobles snarled in outrage. Some werewolves rocketed from their seats, their claws unsheathed, and a few Shadow Fae shot up, their eyes glowing with menacing power.

King Azarril’s voice boomed over the Great Hall. “Silence! Order in the Hall!”

I felt my own body respond to the stifling dominance and bloodlust that permeated the air, so thick that I tasted the acrid bitterness on my tongue.

My gaze swung to Ember. Her face was pallid, and her jaw slackened; she gaped at my father.

Her eyes were rounded with terror, but whether it stemmed from the declaration of mating or the impending violence was unknown.

Then, her gaze collided with mine, and held it.

We stared at each other across the Great Hall, oblivious to all else, as if we were the only two people in existence in the world of Lanair.

Then, the temperature plummeted to near-freezing. The shrieks of anger ebbed as Lanairs’ heads whipped about in search of the source. I blinked at the ice that began to film a thin sheet over the walls—icicles hanging from the chandeliers like talons from a bird of prey.

My head spun to the left. The frigid glare from the elf king spoke of death.

One by one, the Lanair caught sight of the penetrating glare of the elf king and ceased their protests. The yowls and snarls of rage died on their tongues under the icy weight of his gaze.

“Hear me,” King Tridar spoke when a hush fell across the room. He faced the elf king, and shock claimed me as I watched his eyes widen imploringly toward King Nazarril. The king gave a slow nod.

“We are all listening,” King Nazarril murmured. He fastened a narrowed glance at King Asar. “Aren’t we, King Asar?”

The king of the werewolves' features were botched red, the tendons of his neck in stark relief. His chest heaved with restrained rage. Claws were slicing in and out as if wishing to sink into my father’s throat.

One glance at the queen, the alpha female, didn’t bode any better.

Her upper lip was peeled back as wicked incisors bared at the shadow fae king.

Only Ember appeared to be the calmer of the two royals, though I assumed that it was primarily due to her being in shock.

I wasn’t in much better shape. Anger blazing in my chest like a furnace.

Why did my father drop this shit at the Great Hall? Is he trying to start a star's damn war?!

“King Asar,” my father spoke to his fellow king. His chest heaved with a bracing breath. “I ask that you let me explain.”

Plain shock colored his face. He blinked owlishly. Queen Lunatha looked at her husband.

“My King,” she hissed. “You can’t possibly consider entertaining him.”

King Asar dropped his gaze to the floor. Queen Lunatha spoke again, her tone more urgent, when her husband held up a hand to silence her. She closed her mouth with an audible snap. The silence was deafening as we all waited for what the king would do. After a long moment, he slowly lifted his head.

“I’m willing to listen, but —” he jabbed a finger at the king of the shadow fae. “That doesn’t mean I will agree to anything.”

King Tridar nodded. “Duly noted.”

Casting his gaze not only on the king but the rest of the werewolves in attendance.

“I have learned of my son finding a life mate in Princess Ember.” He stretched out his arms from his side and exclaimed, “What could be a better solution to peace than an alliance? An alliance between our children who—” my father’s gaze dropped to me. “Are already fated mates.”

“You have no right to stand over there spouting such nonsense,” Queen Lunatha hissed, a low grow rumbling from her throat. Her eyes went amber. “How dare you claim my daughter is…m-mated to your son!”

“Tell her,” King Tridar told the king of the werewolves. “You know as well as I do the truth.”

Queen Lunatha stilled. She slowly leveled her gaze on her husband, who refused to meet her questioning look. “What is he speaking of?”

King Asar swallowed thickly. My eyes narrowed.

He knows…my father knew of the bond—he could sense it. Can the werewolf king see the thread of fate as well?

Then, King Asar turned to his daughter seated behind her parents. She flinched as he stared at her. Her tongue flicked out to lick her lips, lips parting as if to speak, but no sound came out.