Page 7

CHAPTER 7

YVETTE

My stomach flips when I think about tonight.

I check the time. Only four hours to go.

Gods, I still can’t believe I agreed to meet Prince Lucas at midnight. Outside the cottage in secret, no less.

I’ve never sneaked out of the house before, not even as a teenager, and my giddiness rises alongside my worries.

What if I’m caught? Yes, I realize I’m a grown woman of twenty-four, but if Mama or Aunt Heather catch me sneaking outside at midnight, they’re going to ask questions. Questions I won’t want to answer.

Not for the first time this evening, I test the window in my bedroom. Thankfully, Aunt Heather placed me in a small room at the back of the cottage. On the first floor. The only problem is that Mama’s right next door, so I’ll have to be very quiet as I climb out the window.

I ruffle through my belongings and select the least wrinkled dress. A pretty yellow gown that’s more suitable for summer than winter, but I trust I’ll be warm once Prince Lucas shows up.

My heart races as I anticipate seeing him again.

Oh gods, that kiss. It was so perfect. It was everything I ever imagined my first kiss might be. Soft and exciting with the perfect amount of pressure. He’d cradled my face with such tenderness that I nearly swoon every time I think about it.

Will he kiss me again tonight? Heat surges between my thighs at the thought, and I find myself squirming on the bed as my excitement grows.

Unable to remain still, I jump off the bed and start pacing the room.

My gaze lands on my bag of books that I relocated from the sitting room. I flush when I recall the deep vibrations of the prince’s voice as he read the explicit passage aloud.

How thoroughly embarrassing yet thrilling that moment was.

Even better, he wasn’t mocking me, or judging me, not really. He’d seemed intrigued and even excited by the subject matter.

There’s no denying the heat that flared in his eyes and the way his breath caught in his throat. And that sudden bulge in his tight leather pants sent a thrill through me.

Disbelief descends and I struggle to catch my breath.

My first kiss. My very first kiss was with a Summer Court prince.

Suddenly, I wish Mira were here. I could talk to her about this whole strange situation I’ve gotten myself into, and I could share my excitement as well as my worries. But she’s all the way in Trevos, a full two week’s wagon ride away.

Mama and I traveled by wagon most of the way, hitching a ride with a group of merchants headed for Sorsston. It wasn’t until the last day of our journey that we disembarked the wagon and set off on foot, as they couldn’t spare the time to take us all the way to Aunt Heather’s cottage.

A quick visit to Mira isn’t an option, though I hope to send her a letter soon. If I invite her to visit the cottage, will Warden Valloc permit it? My spirits sink because I’m not sure he would. He’s so protective of her that he doesn’t like being away from her side for long. Even though she’s part-fae and stronger than most humans.

Thoughts of Mira and Warden Valloc’s mating union give me pause. There’s no denying he’s downright possessive of her, and if another male showed interest in Mira, I have no doubt the warden would waste no time in slaughtering the man. Is Prince Lucas the same way?

My worries start to outweigh my excitement over the coming night.

I don’t want the sort of trouble that might arise if the prince becomes possessive of me. I think of Mama’s plan to take me to Sorsston at the start of spring for the purpose of finding me a husband. Over dinner tonight, she’d mentioned that we would travel there around that time, and Aunt Heather had chimed in that she thought it was an excellent idea. My aunt also mentioned a few local farmers’ sons she wanted me to meet. It would seem both Mama and Aunt Heather are keen to play matchmaker for me.

If I meet Prince Lucas tonight, am I leading him on? It feels wrong to do that, but at the same time, it’s not as though we could become mates. Somewhere out there, there’s a fae female who is fated to belong to him. Maybe he just hasn’t met her yet. It’s my understanding that sometimes fae don’t meet their fated mates until they’re over a thousand years old.

If I spend too much time with the Summer Court prince and he starts to feel possessive of me, will he interfere when I later travel to Sorsston to find a husband? My stomach clenches at the thought.

I’m tired of fighting, tired of war.

All the violence I witnessed during the fae’s attack on my home city was because of Prince Lucas. I shouldn’t forget that. It was his massive army that conquered Trevos and brought much bloodshed to the human kingdom.

I continue pacing the room and watching the clock, my thoughts in turmoil. Despite all that’s happened between my people and the fae, I can’t help but think I’ll regret not meeting the prince tonight.

If I don’t meet him, I’ll always wonder what we might’ve talked about and whether he would’ve given me another soft, perfect kiss.

Just before midnight, I stuff two extra pillows underneath the sheets and pull the covers up so it looks like I’m curled on my side fast asleep. Then, I crack the window. To my relief, it opens easily and doesn’t creak. I finish opening it and peer outside. I don’t see him, but then he probably won’t walk straight up to the cottage. He won’t want to risk being seen by my mother or aunt.

I smooth my hands through my hair, feeling a bit ridiculous for the long curls I set earlier in the night, but it’s too late to change my hair now. I take a deep breath and start climbing out the window. The cold night wind makes me shiver, and a wolf howls in the distance. Ugh, it’s still winter out here.

Until it’s not.

All at once, a warm breeze surrounds me and the sound of locusts and crickets fill the night, along with trilling frogs and other nighttime sounds I can’t quite identify. The nearby forest also illuminates with countless fireflies and other glowing creatures I don’t recognize. Exotic creatures that I suppose hail from the Summer Court.

My feet hit the ground, and I immediately close the window. I pray Mama or Aunt Heather don’t decide to check on me, but I also hope the pillows under the blankets trick works if they do. Satisfied by my escape, I turn and face the glittering darkness. I don’t see Prince Lucas, but I know he’s here.

I follow the garden walkway as my excitement mounts. Holy gods, I actually sneaked out of the house to meet a guy. Not just any guy, but a highborn fae male. A Summer Court prince.

I smell him before I see him. The scent of star jasmine and honeysuckle hits me hard, and a second later he steps into my path. My heart stumbles when I see what he’s holding. A single red rose.

The moment our eyes meet, giddiness swirls through me. I also become breathless even though he hasn’t said a word or touched me yet. It would seem the anticipation of what might pass between us tonight is enough to make me deliciously unsettled. An ache pulses steadily in my core, and I swear my nipples harden in the confines of my chemise. I’m experiencing the sort of physical reaction to a male that I’ve only read about.

Gods, it’s like I feel alive, truly alive, for the first time.

“Sweetling.”

“Prince Lucas.”

He hands me the rose, and when his fingers brush mine, the brief touch sends a fresh wave of sensation straight to my womanhood.

“Thank you for the rose.” I bring it to my nose. “It smells lovely.”

“You’re very welcome.” He clears his throat. “You may simply call me Lucas, by the way. There’s no need to be so formal.”

“All right. Lucas .” I don’t mean to say his name in a breathless, seductive tone, but that’s how it escapes my lips.

“I thought perhaps we might go for a walk in the forest. It’s quite safe, I promise. As long as I’m with you, no forest beasts will dare to venture close.” He offers me his arm, and I take it.

“A walk sounds nice,” I murmur as I relish the feel of his summer heat. I’ve never liked being cold, and I usually spend the majority of winter next to a roaring fire.

“How is your mother doing?” He glances down at me as we pass a tree holding a massive quantity of glowing fruit. Pears? I make a quick note to visit this particular tree during the light of day.

“She’s doing well. Thanks to you.” My fingers briefly tighten on his arm.

As we walk deeper into the forest, I’m awestruck by the splendor of the night. Everywhere I look, the branches and leaves glitter in all colors of the rainbow. The rhythmic buzzing of locusts swells louder, and the fireflies continue dancing through the trees.

Every now and then, I exchange a look with Lucas. Lucas . Just Lucas. I like that he invited me to omit his title.

I spin the rose idly in my hand as we walk beneath a low tree bough that has large glowing purple bugs crawling on it. If I were by myself, I would give the bugs a wide berth, but I trust that nothing will hurt me out here. Not when I’m with Lucas.

“So,” he says in a conversational tone, “you and your mother journeyed a long way from Trevos to visit your aunt. Did the two of you travel on foot by yourselves?”

“Yes, we did come a long way, but we were fortunate to hitch a ride on a merchant wagon that was headed for Sorsston, and we stayed with the wagon until the very last stretch of the road. When I was child, we used to visit my aunt once a year, but when I was about sixteen, my father and Aunt Heather got into a terrible argument after he insulted Mama, and he made us leave the cottage in the middle of the night. He forbade us from ever visiting again, but he died about a year ago, so we’re finally here for a much overdue visit.”

Lucas pauses and turns to face me, his demeanor tense. He swallows hard. “Did your father die when the Summer Court army attacked Trevos?”

“No, nothing like that. He wasn’t a soldier. He was too much of a coward for that. He faked a limp so he wouldn’t be conscripted.” I exhale slowly as I remember the unexpected knock on a cold, rainy afternoon that heralded the news of my father’s passing. “He was found stabbed to death a few weeks after the fall of Trevos.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetling.” He cups the side of my face and gives me a compassionate look. “Was his assailant ever caught?”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” I say with a thin, forced smile. “I know I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but my father was a cruel man, and if I’m being honest, his passing came as a relief to both me and my mother. But no, the assailant was never caught. He had a reputation for cheating people in business though, so I’m sure he just finally crossed the wrong person.”

He smooths my hair behind my ears. “Well, I’m glad you and your mother can finally visit your aunt. Are you planning to return to Trevos eventually?”

“No, we’re not going back to Trevos.” Oh, gods. Why does this suddenly feel complicated? I almost feel like I’m lying to him by not telling him the full truth. But I can’t tell him I’ll be traveling to Sorsston soon to find a husband.

“I take it you don’t like living under fae rule.” His visage becomes guarded, as though he’s bracing himself for my answer.

I bristle as the terror of the Summer Court army’s attack on Trevos comes rushing back. “How can you ask that? Of course I don’t like living under fae rule.” I drop my hand from his arm and face him fully. “I hid in the cellar with my parents during the attack, and the house shook the entire time. I prayed harder than I’ve ever prayed before because I was convinced the house would collapse on us and we’d all get crushed to death.”

“Yvette, I?—”

“No, I’m not finished. I want to tell you the rest.” I place my hands on my hips and glare up at him. The magic of summer continues swirling around us, but the atmosphere no longer brims with romance. Despite the warmth of his summer magic, there’s a sudden chill in the air. Or perhaps the chill is inside me.

“Very well, sweetling. Tell me. I want to know what it was like for you, even if it paints me and my people as villains.”

I draw in a deep breath, then I let it all out. I tell him about the bodies in the street. I talk about the neighbors we found dead or grievously injured. I speak of the fear that permeated the whole city in the aftermath of the attack. I confess how worried I was about my best friend, Mira, and how touched and relieved I was when she visited my home the day after the attack to check on me.

Closing my eyes, I picture the days following the battle and the horrors I witnessed, and I utter every thought that comes to mind. I tell him every terrible memory. Like the time I went on a walk with Mama, and we saw heads rotting on the parapet. And all the times I heard screaming in the middle of the night and knew the fae must be harassing some poor soul.

Next, I remind him of the runners that were rounded up and slaughtered, and all the unfortunate people who were taken as slaves, most of them young women and men. I also scold him about the injustice of Tribute Day and how wrong it was to punish households who couldn’t afford ten pieces of silver. Demanding a daughter or son in place of silver was perverse, and the families he destroyed will never be the same.

By the time I’m finished, hot tears stream down my face, but I feel better. Better for having told him. He needs to know. He needs to know what he did. What his people did. He’s leading the godsdamn army. Him and that general everyone talks about, General Dalgaard. It’s said that since they both took leadership of the army a few centuries ago, the Summer Court hasn’t lost a single battle.

I blink away the tears and glance down at my hand. It hurts. During my tirade about the fae’s cruelty, I crushed the rose in my fist and embedded a few thorns in my palm.

Lucas reaches for my injured hand before I can flee into the night. He stares at me with regret, which takes me aback. Isn’t he proud of what he’s done? Shouldn’t it make him happy to know how much suffering he’s caused among my people?

“Sweetling, I?—”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your sweetling. I never should have agreed to meet you tonight. I don’t know what I was thinking.” I sniffle. Fuck, how I hate that I just broke down crying in front of him. “You charmed me with your kindness yesterday, and while you might not have glamoured me, you might as well have. Because surely the way you treated me yesterday was a ruse. Surely it was all fake.”

His expression gentles with concern. I wish he wouldn’t look at me that way. I wish he would laugh at my pain. I don’t want any part in the sick game he’s playing. Maybe instead of stealing away with me and keeping me as a pleasure slave, it’s more enjoyable for him to make me fall for him first. It’s more enjoyable for him to make me believe he’s a decent male worthy of love and affection and understanding.

Yes, this makes the most sense. This is all one big mind fuck. At any moment, he’ll come clean and show me his darkness. The darkness I always knew was there.

“You’re hurt, Yvette.” His nostrils flare. “I can smell your blood.” He pries my fingers open one by one.

I wince at the pain, and I’m glad I can’t see just how many thorns are stuck in my palm. He cups my wounded hand in both of his, then golden light beams outward. The discomfort fades almost instantly, and the thorns eject from my flesh and fall to the ground. He releases me and steps back, and I wiggle my mended hand, uncertain if I should thank him or spin on my heel and run back to the cottage.

“I’m not sorry for attacking Trevos, sweetling. It had to be done,” he says in a quiet voice. “But I am sorry for the pain and fright it caused you and your mother.”