Page 120 of The Gilded Fae (Royal Fae of Rose Briar Woods 2)

“No?” Alaric’s smile grows. “If not, then I’m assuming you haven’t researched it either?”

Ian’s magic swirls with his agitation, unbound and free. It makes me yearn for my own, especially as I feel the tension growing.

“We do not study such magic in West Faerie,” Ian says snidely.

“Then I suppose it’s safe to say you know absolutely nothing about it.”

I freeze, startled by Alaric’s audacious words.

Ian’s face turns red. “How dare—”

“We’ll be to the bridge shortly,” Alex interrupts.

Ian narrows his eyes as he turns his attention to Alex. “Did I say you could speak?”

Alex raises a defiant brow. “Did I ask?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Alex arches his back and draws in a hissing breath through his teeth.

“Alex!” I gasp.

Alaric attempts to intervene, but he’s helpless to interfere with magic that passes through the illanté tether. Angry, the prince drops his hand. Ian glances at him, looking pleased.

“What are you doing?” I whip toward Ian.

The count watches Alex with detached interest. “Until your magic is free, he’s mine.” To prove his point, he flicks his wrist, and Alex lets out another agonized cry.

“Stop!”

Ian turns to me, smiling. “Why?”

I dig my fingers into his arm. “I am your princess, and I command you!”

Though Ian laughs, Alex suddenly slumps against the side of the carriage, breathing hard as he glares at the man who holds his tether.

“You make it sound as if being a princess means something,” Ian says to me, perhaps deciding it’s more fun to toy with me than his illanté. He leans closer, his eyes trapping mine. “But we both know a princess is simply a puppet.”

He’s right—but not anymore. I’m done being manipulated, done being stepped on and used. And we’ve just crossed the bridge into Faerie.

Ian lifts his hand, cocking his head to the side. “If I wish to punish him, I will.”

Alex grits out an agonizing groan, grasping the windowsill so tightly, his knuckles turn white.

“In fact…” Ian smiles to himself. “Now that you’ve signed the betrothal agreement, there’s really no reason I cannot kill him.”

I scream at Ian as Alex presses the back of his head into the bench and shudders with each new wave of pain.

“Lord Treald,” Lord Cavinder says, his face going pale as he watches Alex stoically bearing the torment Ian is so gleefully putting him through. “I really think that’s enough—”

“Alaric, remove the curse,” I say desperately.

“No,” Alex grits out. “You can’t.”

Alaric looks between us, uncertain.

“NOW!” I scream. “I would rather be tethered to the contracts than watch this.”

The prince extends his hand, and suddenly, I feel the lock breaking.