Page 22

The Prince

“ A

re you wearing Raynar’s clothes?” I ask when we descend the tunnels leading us deep into the heart of the palace. The white cotton shirt and soft, neutral leggings look borrowed from Ayrene’s little brother. How odd. All the dresses worthy of a queen in her wardrobe, and the little human thief has chosen the clothes of a servant.

“Did you change your clothes and washed because there was blood on them?” Talysse responds with a question.

Shrugging, I urge her to follow me.

“And do you kill everyone who disrespects your…guests with your own hands?” she presses on.

“Not all of them, but I kind of enjoyed this one,” I answer with a smug grin. Should’ve taken more time with the drunk fool, but the bruises on Talysse’s neck drove me into a frenzy. The message is clear now: raise a hand at her, die painfully.

And yet, there can be only one winner of these cursed Trials. Only one of us will walk out of this alive.

“Weakness will be your undoing. Attachment is a weakness. Loyalty only belongs to the dynasty. Those are the laws I’ve lived by all my life, Talysse. Cruel but necessary.”

She halts in her tracks. “Attachment is weakness,” she drawls. “Hmm, I wonder how Lady Sorcia sees that.”

“Jealous much?” My chuckle purges the darkness of the bloody, sleepless night. It’s so invigorating.

“Me? Jealous of a noble lady ogling your crown and rubbing your Ancestral Mark as if it is some magic lamp that makes wishes come true?” Talysse snorts. “I’m just puzzled by the double standard here.”

“Lady Sorcia is aware of that.” The tunnel descends steeper. The sconces on the ancient masonry recede, but I stride confidently through the gloom. “But she seems to have forgotten these rules when she bought an assassin to kill me.” Talysse’s throat bobs.

“So her head will join soon poor Lord Haeddyn in the courtyard?” Her fear is palpable, and for a moment, I feel like the monster she believes me to be.

“Not yet. Her little plot requires a more thorough investigation. She’s too vain and superficial to come up with this alone,” I murmur, keeping the rest of my thoughts to myself. There are more involved in this, and something tells me she’ll lead me to my brother’s murderer. “So, she’s in the dungeon now, pondering over her mistakes. And you have me all just for yourself today.”

Talysse snorts, but her footsteps are lighter, more hesitant. When she hears the sounds of the crickets and the damp scent of soil mingling with the fragrance of flowers wafts from the depths, she halts.

“Where are you taking me, Aeidas? Are those—” she rushes forward, “—fireflies? What sorcery is this?”

“It’s my happy place—”

“And a great place to dispose of a body!”

“Disposing of a body is such a waste. Heads on spikes make an excellent decoration. And a statement.”

“You are really a monster, Aeidas.” She punches my forearm.

The anticipation adds a spring to my step, and I do not waste any time wondering why it is so important to me to show her my secret. “Come, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

We stroll through a wisteria tunnel, the purple blossoms brushing against our heads, and I lead her further into the depths of the royal greenhouse.

White pebbles crunch beneath our feet as we follow the path winding around thickets of vibrant flowers and bushes with thick waxy leaves, deeper into the centennial emerald forest ahead. The damp crystal roof lets in beams of sunshine, but the thick branches swallow most of the light, casting dappled shadows. Low among the grass, moss, and blossoms, tiny creatures live their secret, hurried lives in the glow of fireflies and light wisps.

“What is this place, Aeidas?” Talysse murmurs, looking around with wide, bewildered eyes.

“It is a sanctuary. Since the Hex struck, the royal house created this, and I’ve taken it upon myself to save as much of the living world as possible.” Digging into my pocket, I pull out the sachet with seeds and spores from Teír Mekheret.

“It’s so unexpected that your kind values…places like this.”

I bend over to gently remove a centipede from the path. “What did you think that my kind values?” I inquire.

“Power? Murder? World domination?” she muses, brushing her fingers over the low-hanging blossoms.

“Well, even villains need a hobby, Talysse. Like you, for example. What do you do when you’re not robbing people?”

“I…tend tables,” she confesses reluctantly, and we stroll deeper into the gardens. For a moment, I try to picture her carrying trays with food. Is she happy? Is she flirting with the patrons? And what, in the name of Atos, is with my damned curiosity?

“That’s surprisingly mundane. Come, Talysse, let’s meet a friend.”

We walk by clusters of roses, their petals dots of deep colors among the eternal green around, and delicate orchids, their lean forms glowing softly in the twilight. Lilies of every color line the path, their fragrance mingling with the earthy scent of ferns and moss. Foxgloves taller than me stand like sentinels, their bell-shaped flowers nodding gently as we pass.

We arrive at a clearing where an ancient magnolia tree spreads its gnarled branches, its pale pink blossoms luminous in the dim light. Here, the air is thick with the scent of honeysuckle, and the soft rustle of leaves is louder than all my worries. Straight beds of bluebells and snowdrops frame the clearing, and I smile, feeling the buzz of soft, ancient magic at work. Talysse does, too; she whips her head left and right until she spots him.

Amused, I watch her eyes widen as she takes in the bark-like skin flecked with patches of moss of the ancient Dryad. Viridis is busy poking holes in the ground, a pile of bulbs at his root-like feet, ready to be planted. He’s wearing a straw hat with a wide brim and a bunch of lavender blossoms tucked behind his ear. He senses us and rises, stretching his long, sinewy limbs, and his ancient fern-green gaze rests on her.

“Talysse, meet a dear old friend and a tutor who has taught me a great deal about this world, about the place all living beings have in it.” Talysse’s brows skeptically climb up at this statement, but I ignore it. Soon, she will see. “Kings and nobles rule the world outside this paradise, but here is only one true king: Viridis the Dryad, tending to these gardens since times no Fae can remember.”

The Dryad studies Talysse with curiosity, golden bees swirling around the thick green vines of his hair. His fingers are working on something I cannot see.

“A pleasure to meet you, Viridis. I believe that Aeidas has something for you.” She nods with a pleasant, genuine smile that makes the clearing a bit brighter. When I hand him the sachet with seeds, the Dryad places an elaborate wreath of bluebells on her head.

“A crown for the princess,” my friend says and dips his chin respectfully.

“Viridis likes talking with riddles. He gets confused sometimes,” I whisper to Talysse, as she still seems to be stuck on the word princess.

“A real prince,” the old Fae praises me, peeking into the sachet and making me blush like a youngling, “loyal, dutiful, and tending to his lands.” Murmuring some unintelligible words, he goes about his work. Talysse takes a deep breath and lets her gaze wander around the Dryad’s garden.

“This is your friend who likes plants, hm?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Technically, he is a plant.” My clumsy joke gets me a reward—her smile is infectious.

“So this is your happy place, Aeidas?” Talysse cups the bluebells and waves away a couple of fluffy, curious bees.

“It’s more than this. It’s the place that made me who I am. I’ve spent more time tending to these gardens than training for my royal duties.” Viridis fusses about with his seeds, humming a strange melody, completely oblivious to our presence. “Come, there’s more to see.” I point behind my back to the hidden path, the one only a few know about.

She follows me with unease through the prophet’s laurel bushes, the gentle murmur of a stream and the rustling of the leaves the only sounds around. Butterflies the size of my palm flutter over the blossoms, and it’s suddenly all more colorful when it reflects in her eyes. The plants around grow wilder, untamed by the blessed hands of Viridis, and it gets darker.

The two oak trees stand before us like sentinels, making us slow down our pace. Their heavy branches drape to the soft grass, and light wisps dance among them. The place is unusually quiet, as if even the cicadas and crickets don’t dare to disturb the sacred silence beneath the leaves.

“My parents planted these trees when me and my brother were born.” Talysse pauses, swallowing the question everyone’s too eager to ask.

Good for her.

“Do humans—” I ask while making my way through the foliage beyond the oaks, following a barely traceable path, “—dream, Talysse?”

“Of course we do,” she answers simply, confused by the question. My smile stretches as I take her deeper into the gardens. It’s time to show her just how big Unseelie can dream.

Her steps falter when the path opens into a hidden clearing at the heart of the garden. There, nestled amidst a riot of flowerbeds brimming with roses, lilies, and foxgloves, stands my quaint wooden cottage with a straw roof. Its timbers blend with the surroundings, and golden light filters through the trees, casting a warm glow over it.

Ivy is creeping up its sides and colorful blossoms spill from window boxes. A small, stone-paved path leads to the front door, flanked by lush beds of lavender and marigolds.

I turn around to see why she’s not following, and my heart sinks. Talysse stands there, indecisive, her fingers closed around the pouch with the flint.

“What is this place?” she asks.

“It’s a place of secrets. If you want to know the truth about my kind, you must enter.” I take a step toward her, and she flinches.

“Does anyone know of this hut?” She takes a slight step back. I shake my head, and she pales, clutching the flint.

“I wouldn’t spoil my floorboards with your blood, Talysse. If I wanted to kill you, I’d have done it already out there.” Elders, that came out wrong.

“You said you trust me, Talysse.” One more step, and I loom over her, irritated by that look in her eyes, brandishing me as a monster.

Fear is something I understand well. She’s alone with the brutal prince who massacred her family, tortured and slaughtered a courtier just last night, and probably—if she believes the rumors—murdered his brother. Her enemy. And here, she’s at my mercy.

The way she slightly backs off when my fingers close around her forearm pulls some strings in my black heart. The overwhelming need to reassure her that she’s safe with me, that I’d never hurt her, flushes over me. But I can’t promise her that.

“Talysse.” My hands at my sides, I realize how menacing I look, not only because of my size and my ability to summon a deadly weapon out of thin air. And just like that, she turns on her heel and darts into the thicket.

That’s a bad idea.

No Unseelie can resist a good chase.

The dormant predator in me, a remnant of times when my kind stalked the night and fought beasts over food and shelter, awakens. This might get dangerous and she’s fragile human, a tiny voice inside me warns, but it’s quickly muffled by the roar of my blood. This human is not that fragile.

Drawing the tip of my tongue over the sharp edges of my canines, I give chase, relishing in the thrill of the hunt.