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Hawthorne

The Thayarian landscape is as abundant as the magic that runs through the heart of the kingdom. Trees, grasses, moss, vines, and flowers cover the land. The plants there have attuned to the cooler climate and stay green throughout most of the year, only dying off for about two weeks each winter—the period called Abscission—despite freezing temperatures.

A Brief History of Modern Thayaria

The stiff, formal Velmaran clothing is scratchy, but I need to look every inch a Crown Prince tonight at the Welcome Ball. I’d much prefer the clothing of a warrior or even a commoner, but we all have a part to play this evening. My tunic is navy blue, with gold embroidered suns along the shoulders and sleeves. Medals and other unearned adornments litter my chest. The fitted trousers are cream, with a gold stripe down the side. Tradition demands I wear a crown despite my loathing of it, so I place the small halo of golden suns atop my head.

I can’t help but be nervous for the evening. We’ve spent the last week going over the plans at night in the training room. The Queen demanded I show her I could hide Fionn and Silene from another room, and at a great distance, repeatedly. Laurel , as she insisted I call her, was not taking any risks.

After the rebel attack on Rusthelm, Laurel became hyper-focused on perfecting every aspect of our plan, combed over every detail of the ball and the prisoner breakout, tweaking and adjusting until it met her standards. We haven’t spoken of the attack since returning from the clearing, both of us exhausted and our magic spent. Nor have we discussed the otherworldly glow that had emanated from her as she was questioning the rebel sent to threaten her. She looked transcendent. When I try to bring up the attack, she changes the subject or dismisses me. When I returned, expression pale and blank, Silene held my hand as I sobbed, telling her of what had happened and of the one I couldn’t save. Who had done that for Laurel? Instinct tells me she simply pushed down the horror and carried on like she has likely done her entire life.

I’ve spent more time with the so-called Witch Queen this week than I have since we arrived, sitting through countless planning meetings with her advisors. I’ve tried to charm her, making flirty remarks and innuendos, but she continues to be immune. While I can usually get a few minutes of banter out of her, she eventually shuts it down. It’s incredibly aggravating. We’re never going to learn about the real source of her power if I can’t get her to trust me. And there is something different about her power. I suspected it the moment I met her in the throne room, but it was confirmed for me when I saw her glowing as she tortured that rebel.

It pains me to admit that I’ve fulfilled my father’s request to understand what the kingdom is like and how strong she’s become, though I have no intentions of providing him with that information. I’m not sure what he expected we’d find, but Laurel is strong and fully in control of the massive well of power she possesses. Even more surprising to me is how she rules, the kindness and wisdom she shows, and her unwavering drive for perfection. She’s respected, revered, and has kept this kingdom together—kept this kingdom thriving —through three centuries of isolation. I wonder, though, if the relentless drive she has is a wall she puts up between herself and the world—her attempt to show the face of a ruler she thinks she needs to be but doesn’t feel she truly is.

The desire, no—the burning need —to get under her skin and break that cool and indifferent mask, see the female beneath the Queen, eats away at me. I have an unrelenting urge to prod and poke at her until she cracks, even though she never does. Throughout my centuries-long life, I’ve seduced countless females and males into spilling their secrets with just the right balance of charm and suggestive touches. It drives me mad she won’t crack, that I have no progress to show for the weeks we’ve been here. I’m determined to win her over to me. I just need to find the right angle.

Last night, she finally told us the full plan to break out the rebel prisoners, not trusting us with the information until the last moment.

“The palace cells are built inside the mountain, but there’s a passage from them that opens on the other side of the ridge, where the rebels can meet you to receive the prisoners,” she had told us. “It’ll be challenging getting back from there, especially if the guards are following you, but it will also add cover. If I aerstep you back and you’re immediately seen at the ball again, no one should suspect that you were with the group that went down those passages.”

Fionn and Silene had to scramble all day to get the information to the rebels, meeting with contact after contact to pass the information up the chain of command, but they pulled it off. I don’t blame the Queen for not trusting us with the information of the secret passage sooner, especially after Rusthelm, but it would have made planning easier.

I survey myself in the mirror and a jolt of excitement rushes through me, though I try to pretend I don’t know what it’s for. Fionn knocks on my door, then whistles.

“You clean up good, princey,” he teases. My rude hand gesture has him laughing. The formal uniform of a Velmaran Royal Guard makes his tall frame even more imposing.

“We need to go! Stop primping and let’s move,” Silene calls from the sitting room.

Her small frame jitters with excitement as I exit my bedroom. Wearing a navy and gold pant suit with flowy trousers that appear like a dress until she moves, she’s both regal and practical. Noticing my observation, she twirls. “I had a tailor in town make it for me this week. Rush order. It cost your father a heaping pile of gold, since we lost all of our verdes playing skran and the shop owner charged more to not pay with Thayarian currency,” she says with a maniacal cackle.

“In that case, it’s perfect,” I tell her. “Are you ready?”

She nods. We’ve perfected our act since our engagement. She uses her endearing personality to get people to trust her, and by extension, me. Then I swoop in with the charm and disarming winks, and they do whatever we want them to. And if that fails, Fionn scares them senseless. It’s a practiced routine that works well, and we may need to use it tonight if things go sideways. I loop my arm through Silene’s, and we walk arm in arm out of the room, the perfect picture of a Prince and his betrothed, shadowed by their loyal guard.

A large open-air courtyard built into a flattened plateau on the side of the mountain hosts the ball tonight. Like everything in Thayaria, lush overgrown plants creep up the walls and across the floor, while giant planters with night-blooming flowers are scattered across the space. Lights hang across the dance floor, and beyond is a picturesque view of the twinkling city below. Dark green and crimson banners mix with gold ones to represent the two kingdoms. The effect is breathtaking, and I find myself in awe of this kingdom that I once knew nothing about.

It’s early winter, so the air is biting, but fire pits dot the courtyard to help cut the worst of the cold. The smell of burning wood and the aroma of the food makes my stomach growl. Silene has acquired a large fur wrap she drapes across her shoulders that Fionn looks envious of. Velmara has a much warmer climate, so my friends must be freezing. Somehow, I barely feel the cold. I nod toward a roaring fire pit with chairs scattered around it and we make our way there to warm up.

Thayarian nobles and courtiers slowly trickle into the courtyard, unaffected by the cold. When they notice us, they give swift and shallow bows before moving away. Music filters our way from a group of musicians while servants walk around with glasses of bubbling liquid and delicate hors d’oeuvres. The menu is another blend of Thayarian and Velmaran cuisine. Fionn suggested the small fried pastry that can be found at every street food cart in the Floating Market. Velmaran courtiers would never condescend to eating what is a staple of commoner food, but the Thayarians don’t know that. They love it, judging by the empty trays.

A herald bangs his staff three times, and everyone quiets. “Her Majesty, Queen Laurel Elestren of Thayaria,” he proclaims. Fae and humans alike dip into deep bows and curtsies as the doors open. Fionn and Silene give me a nod, indicating they’re ready to slip out during the dance between the Queen and me. As soon as they back into a corner, I concentrate on the dim light surrounding them. Pulling aether to me, once again taken aback at how much power I can draw up here in Thayaria, I will the light to render them invisible.

My focus is tested when Laurel enters the courtyard. Breath catching, I can’t pretend it’s because I’m nervous for Silene, Fionn, and the breakout that will happen floors below. She wears a deep crimson velvet dress the color of the thayar flower. The sleeves are long, but her perfect breasts are once again on display with a deeply cut neckline. The dress hugs her curves, emphasizing the way her hips sway as she walks, while the color of the dress brings out the reddish hue of her hair. It hangs around her in soft waves, and the desire to run my fingers through it is all-consuming. She doesn’t wear the dark makeup I’ve come to associate with her, and I find I prefer her this way. When she reaches me, I take her hand for the dance, giving her one of my signature disarming smiles. I think I notice her cheeks flush, and it stirs something low in my stomach.

“Ready to dazzle them, witchling?” I ask in a low and suggestive tone. Her eyes heat, and another grin breaks out across my face, this one genuine.

“Have you seen this dress? I’ve already dazzled them. It’s your turn, princeling.” A deep and genuine laugh erupts from me at the confident and cocky comment.

“The dress is indeed something to marvel at,” I say with a flirty wink, my meaning very clear. Rather than blushing or shying away from the compliment, she gives me a wide smile, and I can’t keep my hands off her for another second. I wrap my arm around her waist and have to stifle a growl when I feel warm, bare skin meet my hand. The dress is backless. I splay my hand low across her exposed back, and her breath catches, igniting a fire in my blood. “I’m perfectly capable of dazzling, you know. I’m sure you learned that when you asked about me,” I say with a dry smirk to hide my reaction to touching her bare skin. She rolls her eyes.

“I didn’t ask about you. I gathered intel about a political emissary being sent to spy on me. There’s a difference,” she snaps, but with none of her usual iciness.

“Sure you did. And that political intel just so happened to talk about my thriving sex life. Standard procedure, I’m sure.”

“Hm, I don’t remember reports of a sex life,” she quips back, barely missing a beat. “Just your tendency to flirt with anything that moves. It gives desperate, if you ask me.” Once again, I can’t stop the chuckle at the perfect barbs she lands.

“I’ll admit that I’m more judicious about who I take to my bed than the rumors may suggest. If I slept with every person who wanted to get in The Shining Prince’s bed, I’d have a never-ending line of return paramours, desperate for my skills once more.”

She rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the way her eyes darken with lust for a brief moment before she darts them away from my gaze. The music begins, a traditional Thayarian waltz, and our verbal sparring takes a momentary ceasefire. I whisk her into the dance, pulling her closer with each turn while keeping my focus on Fionn and Silene moving a few floors below. When I spin her away from me, I’m rewarded with a full view of the back of the dress. My mouth goes dry at the way the fabric dips low just above her ass, accentuating the thick swell of her hips, and all thoughts of Fionn and Silene leave my head. I pull her back aggressively and her breasts push up against my chest. Her lilac and mint scent wafts over me, and I can’t stop myself from taking a deep inhale as I pull her even closer. She lets out a small gasp, and a wave of pure male satisfaction washes over me.

We spin and sway a few more times before I remember that I am supposed to be seducing her, not the other way around. It takes immense control to ease her body away from mine to a more proper distance, though I force myself to do it.

“What do you think, witchling? Is my dancing up to your standards?” The words come out husky and low.

“It’s passable,” she teases, her own voice somewhat breathless. “Though I think I can give them even more of a show. Wouldn’t want anyone to wonder where Fionn and Silene have gone.” An airy mist wraps around our bodies, swirling as we spin. She looks up at me, and I meet those wicked green eyes with my own challenging gaze.

“That’s all you’ve got? I can do better.” I concentrate on the light emanating from the fire pits. It takes immense focus to keep the magic wrapped around Fionn and Silene as they move while pouring aether into the light from the nearest fire pit. I wouldn’t have been able to do it in Velmara, but at the nexus of so many leylines, my magic is stronger. Twinkling orbs of light appear around us as we twirl, lighting up the mist. We must be glowing in the darkness, glittering with mist and fairy-like orbs dancing around us.

“Impressive party trick,” she says with a wink that matches my own. I pull her closer, deeply impacted by the flirty way she turns my move against me. “And the magic around Fionn and Silene? Is it still up?” she asks, voice low.

I give her a look of mock hurt. “You wound me, Your Majesty. It hasn’t slipped once.”

“In that case, watch and learn, princeling.” There’s a mischievous glint in her eye that causes me to press her against me again. The mist around us turns to light, falling like sparkling raindrops in the night sky. In the distance, bright explosions of light erupt across the Thayarian landscape. Then misty rays dance in ribbons around us. A tendril brushes my arm, leaving a dewy drop behind. My eyes widen in surprise. She’s combined the two conduits; a skill I didn’t even know was possible.

The music crescendos, and I spin her away from me in the glowing orb that surrounds us, then pull her back before dipping her deeply on the final note. Her chest heaves, and I have a full view of the length of her body, breasts flattening with the position. An image of her laying on her back in bed, naked, flashes across my mind, and I nearly lose my control over the magic concealing Fionn and Silene. I pull her up to me quickly, determined to wipe the image from my mind. But then her intoxicating scent hits me again, and I sigh involuntarily, catching myself rubbing soothing circles on the small of her back. She doesn’t comment on it, but her eyes meet mine with a heated look.

“Well…” she says, voice flustered and cheeks tinged with a rosy pink. I make a low noise in the back of my throat involuntarily, and I’m about to ask her to dance again when polite clapping breaks whatever spell has been cast over the two of us. I’m reminded that there are others—many others—surrounding us, and that my mission is to get information out of her through seduction. I need to leave her wanting more. I turn to Laurel, then bow deeply, before raising her hand to my lips. I brush the top of it with the lightest kiss, never taking my eyes from hers, and I swear she shivers at my touch. She gives me her own nod, the small gesture full of meaning, and we turn back to the crowd with matching plastered-on smiles.

“I’m honored to formally welcome His Royal Highness, Prince Hawthorne Vicant, Crown Prince of Velmara,” she says to the crowd. “While I know this ball is coming a bit late…” Laughter breaks out across the crowd as Laurel gives them a sheepish look that says she knows it should have been sooner, “I hope tonight is the first diplomatic event of many in the history of Thayaria and Velmara. Please welcome the Prince this evening.”

With that, she leaves my side and walks to join a group of her advisors. A female I recognize as Aria from the Council of Advisors walks up to me, and I put on the mask of a charming prince once again.

“Would you like to dance, Aria? Queen Laurel spoke so highly of your dance skills.” She blushes, and I give her a dazzling grin.

“Yes, Your Highness,” she murmurs. I wrap her up in my arms and sweep us into a quick foxtrot.

Across the dance floor, the too-handsome Captain of the Royal Guard, Carex, leads Laurel to dance, his hand wrapped around hers. A pang of what I think might be jealousy shoots through me. I’ve never cared whether females I’m pursuing were interested in others, never cared if another touched them. But something about seeing Laurel with the Captain puts me on edge.

I dance with Aria, then with several other females whose names I don’t remember. My attention stays equally divided between Laurel and keeping Fionn and Silene hidden. Laurel floats across the floor gracefully, never turning down a request for a dance. After a second coupling with the Captain, something rears up inside of me. Before I know what I’m doing, I’ve stalked over to her and requested another dance, my plan to leave her wanting more entirely forgotten.

The music has slowed to a tempo that allows me to keep her close. Worry in her eyes, she asks, “Is something wrong, Prince Hawthorne? This is earlier than we expected to need to aerstep them back.”

“I just needed an excuse to get away from all the female courtiers fawning over me. It’s exhausting. And please, call me Hawthorne.” She rolls her eyes.

“You think too highly of yourself. The females are simply welcoming you, as I requested they do.”

“Tell yourself whatever you need to.” I give her a wink, then dip her low before pulling her back close to my chest, committing the feel of her pressed against me to memory. Changing the subject before I do something I’ll regret, I add, “Your magic is impressive. I understand why my father wanted me to learn more about it.” She tenses, but I squeeze her tightly. “Relax, I’m not trying to get information out of you. You can keep your secrets, witchling. I’m just in awe.” She gives me a look that says she doesn’t believe me, eyes narrowed in skepticism and lips flattened. “Truly,” I assure her, and I’m surprised at the truth of the statement. “It was not… easy, for me, learning to control the massive power I had on my own. My father isn’t a light channeler, and my mother died when I was young. I had no one to guide me. I imagine it was similar for you.” I’m telling her things only Fionn and Silene know, hinting at the past that has formed me into who I am today. It makes me feel untethered. Her eyes meet mine in the briefest moment of shared vulnerability, and it lights me up from the inside out.

“Yes, it was difficult for me.” The words are practically a whisper, like she’s afraid of admitting even this tiniest of vulnerabilities. She swallows, and my attention drags across her throat, my blood heating. “Many days it still is. There are still many secrets , as you say, that I’ve yet to uncover about myself and my magic.” Her brows furrow, like she doesn’t know why she’s saying this.

“If you wanted to train together, I’d welcome that. Whatever secrets we uncover, I’ll take to my grave.” There I go again, speaking words I’ve hardly thought about before they cross my lips. I’ve always been impulsive, but being around Laurel unlocks a whole new level of rash behavior. “My magic feels new to me all over again with the strength of the aether here. It requires more finesse than I’m used to. I’m sure there’s much I could learn from you. And maybe the Shining Prince can teach you a thing or two.” I give her a grin, and this time she blushes. Those pink cheeks set my skin on fire, and I wrap my arm tighter around her. She doesn’t pull away.

The dance ends too soon, and she gives me a slight bow. “Thank you for the offer. I’ll consider it, Hawthorne.”

An involuntary and genuine smile breaks out across my features when she drops my title, using only my name. It’s a small gesture, but one that makes something in my chest dance with excitement. I bow deeply and drag myself away from her side, telling myself the energy I feel is only because I’m finally making progress in my mission here. If I can get her to train with me, I might get answers out of her. That’s all the dancing butterflies in my stomach mean.

Several more females and even a bold human woman approach me for dances, and I agree to them all, charming them with winks and grins that feel hollow. I play my part well, keeping all the attention in the room on me to distract from my missing entourage. It’s a role I know too intimately, used to keeping up the persona of the Shining Prince in the Velmaran court. It’s never felt comfortable, but tonight it makes my skin crawl more than usual, especially each time my eyes catch Laurel watching me while I dance or flirt with another.

My senses stay honed on Fionn and Silene. While I can’t sense their precise location with my magic, I do sense their movements. When they pace in the short repetitive pattern we practiced, my eyes scan the courtyard for Laurel. I find her sitting in a corner near a fire pit, speaking with Admon. I give her a nod, and her eyes tell me she understands. There’s nothing to indicate she’s used an enormous amount of magic, but Silene appears by my side only moments later.

“Excuse me, but would you mind terribly if I danced with my betrothed?” Silene asks my dance partner. “I’ve barely had a moment to speak with him this evening with all the new faces to greet, and I find I miss his company.” She beams, and the female practically falls over herself in her haste to give my hand to Silene.

“Nicely done,” I say low enough for only her to hear. “How did it go?” We twirl into an extravagant dance, all eyes on us, and I give her an exaggerated kiss on the cheek to cement in the party goers’ minds that they did indeed see Silene and me together. She pretends to blush, giving me a shy and demure smile before answering my question.

“Perfectly, actually. The guards Laurel stationed saw the rebels at the right moment. They pursued us just long enough to justify their job but quickly gave up when Fionn surrounded them with weapons. I expect they’ll be reporting to Carex shortly.”

“Well done, fiancé ,” I tease. She scoffs but quickly hides the expression by touching her forehead to mine, like we’re whispering sweet confessions to one another.

“Fionn’s the real star of the show. He bent the metal bars of the cells faster than I’ve ever seen, despite his magic being dampened down in the prison. Even the rebels were impressed. They had several metal channelers with them who asked him to teach them at their next meeting.”

“Let’s hope this gains us their trust and that we’ll be able to meet with their leaders soon. I’m eager to provide something useful to Laurel.”

“Something useful, huh? Guess your winks and simpering stares aren’t all that useful to Her Majesty,” Silene goads me.

I stifle a laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I feign. “I simply want to secure our alliance.”

“An alliance that gets you into her bed, you mean. You’re obsessed with her. You can’t keep your eyes off her. We’re going to have to publicly break up if you keep staring at her the way you do.” She gives me a wide smile.

“I do not stare at her,” I scoff. “I’m just… intrigued by her. That’s all. And I’m trying to get closer to her so that we can learn more. May I remind you it was our plan for me to use my impressively good looks to get her to open up.”

She gives me a long, hard look, eyebrows raised and lips pursed. The song ends, and I dip her low before bringing her up and kissing her forehead, then tuck her arm through mine and exit the dance floor. As we’re walking back to our seating area, I spot Laurel, and her eyes… For a brief moment, I think I catch hurt in them. Or is it anger? She’s so hard to read, but I suddenly regret the public display of affection I just engaged in with Silene. I drop Silene’s arm, but it’s too late. Laurel has turned away to speak with someone else. We attend so many of these kinds of events in Velmara that it’s practically second nature to give her light kisses and pull her close. Silene’s safety in Velmara hinges on our ability to convince the nobles there that we truly are engaged, despite the rumors about my mistress.

We approach Fionn, whose expression is studious, his body tense.

“All good, Fionn?” I ask. He nods. “Then lighten up a little,” I tell him with a shove in the ribs. “Don’t look so serious.”

“The guards who saw the rebels have arrived. I’m just monitoring the situation,” he growls. I put my arm around his shoulder and casually turn him away from where I see the Captain in discussion with three guards, brows furrowed.

“We don’t want to show any interest in the situation. Go find a pretty female to ask to dance.”

He glares at me, then turns to Silene and puts his arm out. “Care to dance, pretty female?” She giggles as she takes his arm, and they walk to the dance floor.

“That’s not what I meant!”

Fionn gives me a rude hand gesture that sends Silene into a new fit of giggles. I feign annoyance but am happy to see them enjoying themselves after the events of the evening.

There’s a commotion near Laurel. The Captain of the Guard is speaking loudly to her and a group of her advisors. I don't like the way he stands over her, like he's trying to show off that he's in charge. Before I can do anything about it, he stalks toward me, the group at his heels. Iron cuffs wrap around my wrists, and I look up at Laurel as she reaches me. Her face is stony and indifferent, not giving anything away.

“Prince Hawthorne, there has been a breach in palace security,” Carex says. “We’re arresting you and your advisors.”