“But you know something,” he said.
“You’re reading my emotions,” she said.
“And you’re reading mine.” He sank further into a brood. “I hate being a Prince.”
“So you’ve said.” She shifted as the air between them grew itchy and hot. “Look, even if I told you what I know, I’m not sure you would believe me. I don’t quite believe it myself.”
“Tell me,” he said. “I will know if you’re telling the truth.”
For some reason, that didn’t make her feel any better. Still, she told him: about the Pixies and Elves being the same race, about the Elf King and the Crown being connected, about the prophecy of an Elf Prince who, once joined with the Radiant of the Eastern Cliffs, would bring peace, and finally, about his own prophecy, the one that said he would see war and bloodshed and the Throne bowing to the Crown.
As she spoke, his face grew taut, his eyes glowing like green stars. The only thing she left out was Endreas. She mentioned nothing about him.
“You should’ve told me,” he said before the last syllable had left her lips.
She chafed. “Iamtelling you.”
“You should’ve told me sooner. As soon as you knew,” he said, looming in front of her.
“I—” she started.
“There’s more,” he cut in, crowding her. “What else are you not telling me?”
“I’ve told you everything you need to know,” she said, placing her hand to his chest and giving him a firm push back. That slight second of contact allowed a fresh burst of his feelings to race into her: more anger, frustration, fear, grief... and hunger. Not for food, but for her.
No wonder he was so angry about being a Prince. It must’ve been very confusing to be mourning the woman he loved and, at the same time, experiencing such raw, unwanted desire for another.
She wasn’t offended by the fact that he hated how being around her made him feel. On the contrary, she sympathized. She wished she could turn off the power of their birthright as much for herself as for him. Then perhaps she could’ve viewed Endreas with a clear head.
She pressed against the tunnel. Still, the hot swell of their instinctual attraction filled the slim space between them, shortening her breath, bringing beads of perspiration to her chest.
Suddenly, he spun and slammed his fist against earth, spraying more dirt over her.
Hero shook out his fur. Grit flew into her eye and she cringed. Heavy tears formed to dislodge the debris.
He half-turned, shoulders falling. “I’m sorry,” he grumbled.
“For what?”
“You’re crying,” he said.
She raked her fingers across the earthen wall. Clumps pelted his chest. “You’d be crying too if you had dirt in your eye.”
“Oh . . . I thought . . .”
“That I was crying because you hurt my feelings? Really? I know you haven’t been a Pixie long, so I’ll clue you in. If you hurt a Rae’s feelings, she doesn’t cry. She kills you.”
“Even a Rae who’s not like the other Raes?”
“Oh . . . shut up. Where’s Damion?”
“Right here!” Damion called down.
She craned her neck back, blinking through the tears. “Thank the gods. Thank you for not listening to me!”
Against the pale light, he was nothing but a dark silhouette. He chuckled. “Anytime, Mistress.”
“Please tell me you have a rope!”
