Fucking fires. What has gotten into me?
I should want to kill the woman on the spot just for daring to be similar in appearance to Elssandra. But if I killed her in front of witnesses… that would raise questions. More of my subjects might learn about Elssandra’s betrayal. They might learn that she tried to have me killed. They might learn that she didn’t believe I was the rightful heir to the winter throne.
And so, I must keep my calm.
Whatever game Alaric is playing, I must play along.
Even though I would like nothing more than to rip his beating heart from his chest at this moment.
I aim a smile at my brother and lift a hand, casually gesturing at the human female. Gods, her hair is so long and wavy and pitch black just like Elssandra’s.
But she’s not Elssandra. I mustn’t forget that. My mate is gone.
“Dear brother. It’s so good to see you,” I say with a wry grin, cautious of the many eyes upon us. “It appears as though you’ve been busy.” I make another gesture at the woman.
“Yes, I have been busy patrolling the streets of Braemar.” A wicked grin envelops his face. “In fact, I found this sweetcreature while out on patrol today. She was in a bit of trouble, and I so gallantly rescued her.”
“Gallant is the first word that comes to mind when I think of you, dear brother,” I say, and the banquet hall erupts in laughter.
Alaric laughs along and doesn’t seem to take offense, though truth be told, as far as fae insults go, it was a rather tame one. If I really meant to offend him, I would publicly question his honor or his fighting skills.
“It’s true!” Alaric says with another grin. “Her late husband’s brother was harassing her in the street. So, I rushed in to save her. I slit her brother-in-law’s throat, of course. You know how I love slitting human throats with the sharp points of my wings.”
“Yes, I’m aware it’s a favorite pastime of yours,” I say, though I’m scarcely paying any attention to Alaric anymore. All I can think about is the pretty human female he’s still holding.
What is her name? Why was her brother-in-law harassing her?
How recently did she become widowed? Did her husband perish during the battle?
The dark-haired woman whimpers and struggles in Alaric’s arms. He glances down at her with a mildly amused look, but I also sense his annoyance. Perhaps he’s bothered that I haven’t made any comment about her resemblance to Elssandra.
Do the other highborn fae in the banquet hall see the resemblance between my late mate and the human female in Alaric’s arms? I suspect they do, as they would have to be blind not to, but no one is stupid enough to offer any comments on the topic.
“What is it you want, Prince Alaric?” I finally ask, feigning boredom. I can’t let him know about the turmoil in my heart or the conflicted feelings that are nearly driving me to madness.
All I want is to rip the human female from his arms and… what? I’m not even certain what I would do with her. But I don’tlike that he’s touching her. I don’t like that he’s the one making her tremble.
If anyone in this banquet hall is to strike fear into her heart, I want it to be me. If anyone is to hurt her, I want it to be me. Her fear and her pain should belong to no one else.
Mine mine mine.
Possessive thoughts continue to swirl through me as I wait for Alaric to answer my question. If he makes me ask again, he won’t like the outcome. I’m the Winter King, and I don’t like repeating myself.
I also have little patience for games.
At last, he sets the human woman on her feet.
With another one of his wicked grins, he pushes the stunned female toward me. Then he performs an elaborate bow.
“A gift for you, King Theron.”
CHAPTER 5
HELENA
“A gift for you, King Theron.”
I stare at the largest fae male I’ve ever seen. The one seated on the throne. I notice his eyes first, glacial blue and utterly merciless, set beneath black, curving horns that mark him as something dangerous and inhuman. His shoulders are impossibly broad, his arms thick with muscle. His skin, like most Winter fae, holds a gray-blue glimmer. The sharp neckline of his billowing tunic reveals a hint of a sculpted chest, and as he leans forward on the throne, my gaze drops to his massive legs, barely contained by leather. Built of pure, lethal muscle, he radiates cold, commanding authority.
