Page 8

Wynter

F our nights I’ve been trapped in this basement, listening for her footsteps on the stairs.

Always the third step, creaking like a snapped twig.

Her spicy scent hits next—clean with grassy undertones intensifying as she gets closer.

Then her laughter floats down as she talks to the other girl in the house. Always on her way to visit me.

Her voice is so different to how it sounded in Faery. Instead of hollow and wooden, her laugh is lighter, imbued with air and sunshine, and she sounds happy .

My summer girl, who fascinated me even then, seven long years ago, by human time.

My shoulder wound is completely healed thanks to the magic still working through my blood and sinews, even in this mundane realm of concrete and cold logic.

I should be hunting the one who shot me—focused on the threat still out there.

I’m fairly certain I know who it was. But instead, I spend my time thinking about Summer, wanting her, when I know very well she is forbidden .

Many years have passed since the insane air mage cursed me—at my sister’s wedding to the Unseelie King, no less—outing me as the coldest heart in the realm, and declaring it would only melt for someone I could never possess.

Even then, I knew she meant Summer—the girl I’ve dreamed of since I first saw her dancing, bewitched, at the Emerald Keep, after my sister rescued her from the Unseelie mage’s grasp.

Eight years ago, she was stolen. Seven since I first laid eyes on her.

The words that sealed my fate echo now through my mind: “Prince of the barren earth, buried within it you must be for at least seven days and seven nights, and until you—”

Then her sister cut in, kind Ether, tempering the curse and twisting a torment into a promise of release that one day everything would be all right… if only I could surrender.

“Prince of the barren earth,” she had said, “buried within it you must be for at least seven days and seven nights, and until your heart’s love unearths you. Then free and forever blessed you shall be.”

So, all I must do is simply let myself die and trust that the girl, who can only be Summer, will rescue me, all the while possibly putting her life at risk.

I’m willing to sacrifice myself… but Summer…

as much as I want to take her back to Faery again, I can’t bear the idea of putting her in danger.

Before she left Faery as a thrall, I told myself she meant nothing.

That it wasn’t love—just some pathetic fixation born of my halfling human blood.

That I only wanted to possess her. Cage her like a pet.

But now, hearing her true voice unclouded, watching her move freely again, I know the truth.

She is mine. My mate. The only one I could ever want .

The Shade Court once stole her away from her life, and if my suspicions are correct, the fae who loosed an arrow on me in the woods was one of them. The bastard must have been lurking around, spying for days.

But who were they watching? Me or her? Icy fear raises the fur along my spine. I won’t let them take her again.

I’ll do anything to protect her.

Such as lay here like another one of the ragged, stuffed beasts in the basement, pretending I’m still healing, drawing out the time I’m able to spend in her company.

Feeling the giddy warmth of her touch, her fingers stroking my fur, scratching behind my ears.

It’s embarrassing to admit that such brief, innocent contact is so deeply satisfying.

Oh, how my sister would laugh if she could see me now—heartsick and pathetic.

But I cannot lie here forever. I can’t stay away from the source of Elemental power for too long. I must bathe in the waters of the Lake of Spirits soon, or risk becoming stuck in this realm in my wolf form, trapped in silence. And unable to protect her.

That’s all I want—to keep her safe.

I wonder which of my powers, if any, will remain if I change into my fae form. My mind-reading gift is sporadic at best. And ever since I’ve been stuck in the basement, not a single stray thought from either girl has reached me. If I shift, I hope I have more useful abilities and immense strength.

As if in direct response to my thoughts and fears, my muscles snap tight, and a sharp pain grips my gut, bile crawling up my throat. Gods, no. I stifle a groan of agony as the shift rattles and rages through my bones .

A wet pop sounds deep in my shoulder. Then another. Bones shift under skin like branches bending in a storm. I shudder, whine, then moan.

Fuck, no. Not here.

Not now .