He cocks a brow and folds his thick arms across his chest. “Are youreallytrying to lie to me right now?”
I begin fretting with my hair and inspecting my rumpled attire, wishing I’d made more effort this morning. “I’m not lying. I expected…” I check my breath and slip on my discarded blue jacket. “Fine, I don’tknowwhat I expected. But it wasn’t?—”
The carriage comes to a halt, and there, just steps from my window, stands the most handsome creature I’ve ever laid my eyes upon. Hands behind his back, he eyes our conveyance, a warm and welcoming smile resting on a set of full, red lips.
He’s tall. Not quite as tall as me, but I can’t beat him by much. His frame is lean, though his shoulders are broad, his stance relaxed and his feet shoulder-width apart. His sun-warmed skin has a subtle olive tone that creates the most alluring shadows along his sharp cheekbones. And that dark hair? In the afternoon’s rosy sunlight, I can make out strands of deep bronze and copper, not to mention a pair of darkly lashed hazel eyes with bright flecks of green.
“Fuck me,” I mutter, and Alexus groans.
“I really hope he doesn’t,” he says. “But knowing you, he’ll be swooning before dinner. I give it three days before you’ve completely disarmed the poor man.”
I smile and slap a firm hand on his shoulder. “Nowthat’sthe spirit! Who says wars can’t be won and rulers swayed with a little good-hearted flirtation? My gods. Where hasthisAlexus been all my life?”
He rolls his eyes and checks his clothing—his long sleeves and high collar—making sure every marking on his body is well covered. “Let’s just get this over with. I’m already missing Winterhold.”
With that, a footman approaches and opens the carriage door. Alexus steps out first, nods once, and bows to the prince. He then extends a hand toward me.
“My liege,” he announces.
The moment I exit the carriage and unfold to my full height, my eyes lock with those of the prince. An expression of utmost surprise crosses his face, and his warm, genuine smile spreads wider. I feel like an idiot, because I grin, too, and begin moving toward him with such ease one would think I’ve known him forever.
He moves toward me as well, like there’s a magnetic force between us, drawing us together. We stop once our boots are a short step apart, our gazes still fixed, our smiles still wide.
“The mighty King of the North.” He extends his hand in greeting, his voice a lovely sound to my ears. “It’s so good to finally meet you, Your Highness.”
I tear my eyes from his and stare at his perfectly manicured hand. He’s brave. Trusting. Everyone knows I’m the Frost King. They might not know all the details surrounding my immortality, and they may know nothing of mine and Fia’s curse, but they know I hold the power to harm with what they believe is a god-blessed gift.
ANeri-blessed gift.
As I take the prince’s hand in mine, he doesn’t so much as flinch at the cool touch of my skin. Instead, he looks me over, quickly though appreciatively. I know that look. He likes what he sees and wonders if there’s even more than meets the eye. If we were alone, I would assure him there is.
When his stare meets mine again, his fingers tighten gently around my palm. I can’t help but think how much I like the feel of his strong grip, so much power hidden beneath such soft skin.
His hazel eyes glitter in the sunlight, his stare expectant, and I'm snapped out of my thoughts.Say something, you imbecile. Speak!
Unfortunately, though I’m fairly certain I’m already smitten enough to tumble this man until neither of us can walk or think, I find myself at an unusual loss for words.
“Call me Colden,” I finally say. “I’m no one’sHighness.”
“No one’s?” he asks with a curious tilt of his head.
I smile. Am I sensing innuendo? I certainly hope so.
“No one’s.”
I think to ask his name, what I might call him, but I bite my tongue. Rumor holds that he has no name, not one he shares, anyway, and no royal lineage. It’s a way of placing himself on neutral ground with the common people of this land, which is admirable, I suppose. A tactic I’ve never seen and one that clearly worked. Though as with all else surrounding his reign, something about it stings odd.
Alexus nudges me and clears his throat. I suddenly realize that we’re being watched by the palace staff and my closest friend, all witnessing me and the prince ogling one another like two pubescent boys.
Fine. It’s me.I’mthe pubescent boy.
Reluctantly, I slide my hand from the prince’s grasp and look to my right where a hard, wide glare awaits me. “Pardon my rudeness, this happy gentleman is Alexus Thibault, an old friend and advisor. Don’t let that brooding scowl fool you,” I say drily. “He’s a ball of fun.”
Alexus indeed scowls at me as the prince turns and extends his hand, his hazel gaze changing from one of sparkling admiration to one of narrowed thought. “Alexus Thibault.” His dark brows crumple. “Have we met?”
Alexus’s face is a mask of calm, a facade of deception that hopefully no one but me can see. He accepts the prince’s hand, though he pulls away quickly. “We have not, Your Majesty. Much to my loss, I’m certain.”
The prince lingers a look on Alexus, as though he’s still trying to place him. At least I hope that’s what’s happening, because I’m not sure the direction this meeting will take if he delves into Alexus being the Witch Collector, a fact I’m sure isn’t news, but a connection his mind needs to make. I really don’t want to discuss the protections and fortifications we have in place.
