The prince shrugged. He could have many beauties, could take what he wanted, however he wanted, but he only ever truly wanted one fae.
“I have work to do on Vale and Thantrel. My new wife and I will not be sharing a room until we’re back in Avaldenn.”
“Political marriages can turn to love. Mine became one of respect, not love, but some do.”
“You loved Sassa Falk?” The question was off the prince’s tongue before he could stop it.
“For a while. We were mates and that sort of bond can be infatuating indeed.” Érebo smirked. “Come to think of it, you shouldn’t be taking advice from me on the matter of love. I had a stunning wife. One I started wars for because we both loved power—if not each other. And then I had a mate who I loved until she showed her true colors. I’m not the best at picking females.”
Rhistel snorted. “We’re similar in that regard.”
“Who is she, then?”
“Someone out of my reach.” He’d always been determined never to take away her dreams. Now that he was wed, what would be the point?
“At least you’ll never want for distractions. Princes and kings have them in great supply.”
“Did you have a harem?” Rhistel asked, allowing himself another question. A glimpse into the world of the Shadow Fae.
“I did. The practice was common when I ruled.”
“Not so common now.” His father was among one of the only remaining rulers in Isila who kept a harem. “I’m unsure if I’ll keep it. Of course, it could be fun, but . . . other things excite me more than females just waiting to be laid on their backs.”
Intelligent conversation and a partner with wit.
True domination.
The two sides of Rhistel warred. Always.
“Have you put other thought into what kind of king you’ll be?”
It was not often that Rhistel was taken aback, but the Shadow Fae’s question made his spine straighten.
“Of course I have. I’ve been training and learning how to be the king of Winter’s Realm since I was a youngling.”
“Not in this world. Not how it is or will be in the future.”
If and when Érebo brought his people back. Was it possible? The heir didn’t know, but the Shadow Fae seemed confident he’d find a way. Or rather, a person capable of doing such things. What did he know that Rhistel didn’t?
What a stupid question. Érebo had learned to use the Drassil network. A web that not only saw the trees’ surroundings, but also heard the confessions and prayers of living fae and could give one access to the accumulated knowledge of the dead. Of course, Érebo knew far more than Rhistel. The fact annoyed the prince as much as it made him want to ask a million questions.
“I think your father hasn’t considered how our realm will soon change,” Érebo continued. “He will not welcome a return of my kind, no matter what he says to me while he needs me.”
“He cannot lie.”
“He can lie to himself and uncover the truth of how he feels later. When the war is over.”
“What are you getting at?”
The king looked him over, assessed him, more like. “I allied myself with Winter’s Realm. I mean to keep my promise, but the more I learn about the kingdom, the more I see how it could benefit from a new kind of king. Someone with more curiosity than innate prejudice.”
Rhistel laughed at the dangerous line that Érebo walked. “I trust you as much as any other fae.”
“I don’t think that’s true. In me you see yourself, a fae who has hidden for so long. One who wants to show their real face. Their real talents.”
The heir studied the king. A part of him thrilled in not being able to anticipate anything about this male. So often Rhistel could simply take people at their word. And on the occasion that they twisted a truth or omitted information, he usually sensed it. Nor so with the Shadow Fae. He had no idea what deeper thoughts Érebo had in his head.
The king pushed off the railing. “Just know, Rhistel, that I’m open to forming new relationships.”
