What an ass.
“Cleaning horse manure is different than riding. Or are servants in Nighthaven treated differently?” I spit out through clenched teeth. “But that’s okay, I’m staying here.”
“She will ride with me,” the prince declares, and before I can protest, he swings onto the saddle of a massive black horse the Unseelie have brought forth.
“I’d rather take my chances alone, thank—” The air is forced from my lungs as his arm wraps around me, pulling me up onto the saddle as if I weigh nothing. The shock leaves me breathless.
The words die on my lips as the horse surges forward, racing through the woods. Does this cursed beast have wings? Clinging to the front of the saddle is a welcome distraction, as I’m painfully aware of the prince’s muscular form pressed against my back. His arm remains around my waist while his other hand expertly guides the reins.
Elders. He’s not wearing a shirt.
And there it is, that dreaded warmth in my core, that cursed need to feel more of him, the murderer of my parents. I feel every contraction of his chest, and—Elders help me—something hard and thick pressed against my ass.
Do not be naive, Talysse.
He’s Fae royalty. Bred to seduce, deceive, dominate, and rule over weak minds. To him, I’m just a pawn in some twisted game.
“I still find it hard to believe you cannot ride.” His hot breath brushes my ear, sending all the wrong signals to my body. I growl in frustration. The acceleration pushes me closer to him, and every jolt in the road brings us dangerously nearer as if the damned beast has an agenda.
“My father had many horses. He was about to teach me riding when someone spotted the Seelie hiding in our barn—”
I cut myself off, realizing that it sounds like I’m seeking pity from him. That was not my intention. The reminder was for me: that beneath this bronzed skin and breathtaking physique lies a heart as dead and black as the desolate woods stretching on both sides of the road. His arm tenses around my waist, and I steal a glance at his face.
His black brows knit together, cold eyes fixed on the horizon.
“Power is not for the weak of heart, Talysse,” he says, his voice deep and firm, a rumble from a calloused place in his soul. “I won’t deny that my family and I have spilled rivers of blood. You won’t understand, but it was for the greater good. If it brings you any satisfaction—” He seeks my gaze, and for a moment, I catch a flicker of vulnerability—Elders above, remorse?
I must be imagining things.
“—they all seek me out in the night. The lives I’ve destroyed, the villages overrun by Shadowfeeders, the growing devastation in these lands. And now, seeing how I’ve destroyed your life will make my nights even worse, Talysse. Your eyes will join the screeching of gallows, the thuds of heads rolling down the scaffold, the pleas of wives, and the screams of orphaned children.” His voice drops to a whisper, lost in the wind. “One thing keeps me going, Talysse, and this I promise you: it all happened for a reason.”
A lump forms in my throat. Somehow, the vulnerable, remorseful Aeidas frightens me more than the cold, despotic one. I can deal with a cruel monster, but not with someone who regrets what he did. Hate is easy; it comes naturally to humans and Fae. But walking the gray zone of your enemy’s motives is…dangerous. Dangerous because you might understand the reason behind their dark deeds and lose everything that has driven you forward. Everything that has defined you.
This fear steals the snappy comment from my lips, and we ride in silence. My mind tormented, my body responding in maddening ways to his touch.
Elders, how did I deserve such a perverse, refined torment?
The sun climbs higher, its soft rays soothing my troubles. The charred soil and black trunks of the dead forest give way to a dull, rocky plain encircled by barren hills. Ahead, a fortress of dark stone glints like a polished onyx spear tip. Silk banners unfurl in the wind like thick snakes preparing to strike. Even from this distance, I recognize the crest they bear—identical to the Ancestral Mark of the Prince, pressed against my back. We are nearing a bastion of the Unseelie.
Aeidas’s jaw is set, his eyes narrowed, silver hair whipping in the wind. His cheeks are flushed, more color than usual. He spurs the horse into a gallop, drawing me closer as if concerned I might fall. Breathless, I search desperately for anything—anything—to keep my mind off his firm embrace and the ripple of muscle behind me.
“That creature you slew—was it a vampire?” I ask, grasping at the obvious, but Seuta is my witness; I can’t think straight with his jaw resting on my head and his silver strands tickling my face.
“It was.” His whisper brushes my ear, and I look away, hoping to hide the goosebumps on my neck.
“And he is…dead now?”
“He’s been dead for centuries. Now he cannot harm anyone anymore,” Aeidas breathes.
The horse’s hooves clatter over cobblestones, and the polished black walls rise before us. Soldiers and civilians spill out of the tall gate, rushing to meet us.
“What is this place?” I do my best to conceal the note of uncertainty in my voice. Riding with the Heir to the Unseelie Throne doesn’t make his kind any less threatening.
“It’s the doorstep to Nighthaven. You’re safe here, Talysse.” Somehow, the royal bastard reads my mind. He removes his arm from my waist and waves at the crowd. The thunderous wave of cheering nearly makes me slip from the saddle.
Aeidas!They chant.Wildling!
He deftly pulls the reins, and for a few terrifying moments, the black beast rises onto its hind legs. The city wall seems ready to crack from the force of the applause.
