Prince Kiernan
The library settles around me—ancient wood creaking, wind whispering through stone. I’ve always found solace here among the towering shelves and forgotten lore, where pale golden light filters through leaded windows and illuminates the dust motes dancing in the air. The scent of aged paper and leather bindings. The silence.
I should be reviewing reports. Instead, I’m hiding from my responsibilities, thinking only of her.
I tried to show her something real today, let one of my masks slip. For a moment, it felt natural—her interest in our training, the way she spoke about her mother. Then my damn temper ruined it.
Idiot.
Though that comment as I left—that she didn’t hate me—I’m still turning that over in my mind.
The alarm shatters the quiet—a booming toll that reverberates through the castle walls. I’m at the window in seconds, scanning for movement outside. Nothing.
I’m turning to leave when the door bangs open.
A figure slides inside and shuts the door quickly, leaning against it, breathing hard. She hasn’t noticed me yet. I take in the wildness of her deep purple curls rioting around her face, the flush rising in her cheeks.
I walk slowly back to the desk and sit, watching her.
“Prince Kiernan?” She steps forwards, emerging from the shadows.
The light catches her just right. The sprinkle of freckles across milky skin. Gods, she’s exquisite.
“Do you know what’s happening?” She reaches the desk, one hand resting on its edge.
“I don’t.” I lean back in my chair. “I really should go investigate.”
“But?”
“But I won’t.”
I’m enjoying this. Being alone with her.
She tilts her head, studying me, then moves closer. The soft rustle of her dress. The sudden scent of fresh grass cutting through the library’s mustiness. Before I can react, she’s beside me, the warmth of her body near my shoulder.
“What are you reading?” Her voice is quiet, melodious in the vast room.
She leans in, and her breath ghosts across my ear. I catch the gleam of Faelights reflected in her eyes as she peers at the page. That wild hair—smelling faintly of lavender—tickles my cheek. Her hand settles beside mine on the desk, fingers brushing.
The contact sends electricity through me.
My body responds instantly. My Gift hums in contentment at her closeness. My head pounds as I fight to hold myself back. It would be so easy to turn my head—her lips are barely an inch from mine. To pull her onto my lap, feel the weight of her against the erection that has grown there, straining against my trousers.
“The book?” she prompts.
I force myself to focus. “Right. Research on the Marriage Bond. Thought we should know what it actually means.”
“Interesting.” She pulls out the chair beside me and sits.
I shift slightly, trying to ease the discomfort she’s caused, hoping she doesn’t notice.
“What did you find?”
“Not much more than I already knew.” I scan the page again. “The Marriage Bond is an ancient Earthbound Fae custom. When married, the ritual bonds the couple to their commitment. It enhances their Gifts, allows them to share power, heightens emotions … among other things.”
“What other things?”
“That’s the problem. Every book I’ve found is cryptic about the side effects.”
