A rush of air fled my lungs when the man crowded me, nearly spilling me off my seat. He tossed the hat onto the counter and tugged the thick wool scarf away from his chin.
All the bleeding gods,no.
Verdant eyes held mine, so green they looked like I could step into a sprawling meadow. His tousled brown hair was dark in some strands, then almost auburn in certain light.
When I had seen him across from me during the fighting, blade in hand, his eyes were black as pitch from his own horrifying magic.
Now, he wore a smug, stupidly handsome grin on his lips when he leaned in close. “I draw the line at being called a jailer, Princess.”
My future husband.
Jonas of House Eriksson.
“H-How?” The word struggled over my tongue.
“We’ll need to work on your sneaking. You’re quite obvious, but your lack of discretion gave us plenty of time to think up this little scheme.” He chuckled and opened an arm to the ale room.
Dammit.
Every man who’d stood in my way, from the man with a matted beard that was clearly false, to the brawlers, to the sea fae who’d shifted me out of his path, pulled away shrouds and scarves to reveal faces I’d often seen wandering the corridors of the palace.
They were friends and allies of the damn prince.
I faced the aleman, still scrubbing that drinking horn.
He popped one shoulder. “Sorry, lady. You’re not to be out of the gates.”
“You know.” Jonas leaned closer, the scent of his skin—parchment, oak, and deranged man—burned through my nose. He tugged at my false eyepatch, holding my gaze. “I thought you were supposed to be rather . . . empty. They say you’re unable to feel since the battle.”
On instinct, I stiffened, allowing the cold mists of my affinity to draw me back, to shield up my emotions. Difficult to do when my heart would not stop pounding.
The gods-awful prince laughed. “No, don’t do that. Don’t even try.” He had the audacity to lean his lips close to my ear and whisper, “I’ve already seen the fire in your eyes.”
With a flourish of his hand, the prince backed away, but boots shuffled and floorboards creaked.
“Princess Skadinia.”
I closed my eyes and fought the urge to groan. Jaw tight, ire burning toward the nightmarish prince at my side, I turned on the simple stool. “Dorsan.”
My grandfather’s inner guard stood at the back of the alehouse, a dozen Dokkalfar royal guards in their dark blue tunics and bronze spears were positioned at his back.
There was not a line on Dorsan’s pale face that hinted the man had ever laughed. Stern as marble, but loyal as the tides, Dorsan approached my side, taking hold of my arm. “Time to return, My Lady. The negotiations are set to begin.”
At my other side, the prince strode past me. “See you shortly,Wife.”
I leveled him with what I hoped was a dagger-sharp glare, allowing the elven guards to drag me from the alehouse, back to my unavoidable fate.
Back to my prince of nightmares.
Chapter 2
The Nightmare Prince
Months ago,I did not even know elven clans still existed outside of lore. Now, I was about to vow with an elven princess who detested me.
“Couldn’t have done it without you, Gavyn.” I clapped the shoulder of one of the sea fae lords. Gavyn Seeker was only a few turns my senior, but had been a lord of a noble house since he was a small boy.
His curious voice that turned him into sea mist at the smallest drop of water made him built for assassinations. A mark would never see him coming.
