I keep hoping I’ll sense her location, but thus far, I haven’t been able to detect her presence. It’s infuriating, and I’m starting to believe I might have to go door-to-door in search of her. But surely she’s here. Somewhere. Why else would I keep dreaming of the same woman every night?
I think back to my childhood. At the age of eight, my father brought me to a temple, hoping that a high priestess would be able to foretell the identity of my future mate. But the priestess couldn’t offer any specifics. All these years later, the words she spoke resound in my head, a promise of my future.
Lord Gideon Ashvale. You will not meet your fated mate until you are over two thousand years old. You will be the most powerful commander in the Winter Court army at that time, and you will meet your mate during a time of war.
A growl echoes from my throat.
At present, I’m over two thousand years old, and I’m King Theron’s most trusted commander. And it’s a time of war. Well, perhaps not war, butconquest. It’s not as though the humans can adequately fight back. Whenever they try, we kill them. It’s the same with the orcs.
The point being, I believe I’m at the exact place in my life that the priestess claimed I would be when I finally met my mate. That fact, plus the vivid dreams about the blonde humanwoman, must surely mean that my fated mate is somewhere in the city below.
If only I could find her.
Raw, primal need burns through me. Not just a physical need to possess my mate, to fully claim her and seal the mating bond between us, but the overwhelming desire to protect her.
A horn blows, signaling the beginning of Tribute Day. From my place high in the sky, I hear the screech of the heavy castle doors being opened.
I immediately tuck my wings down and zoom toward the courtyard, wanting to arrive before the first humans are admitted inside. I land with a graceful thud near the open doors. Then I vanish my wings in a flash of light.
The line moves quickly as humans file in and out of the castle, and I scan every face that enters, eager for a glimpse of the woman from my dreams.
Disappointment sears me as the hours pass by, and still, there’s no sign of the human female. Each time I glimpse a woman with golden hair, I experience a wave of hopefulness, only for my spirits to darken a moment later when I realize she’s not the soul I’m looking for. I would know the woman’s face anywhere. After so many vivid dreams of her, the details of her visage are burned into my psyche. I know she possesses green eyes set in an oval-shaped face, a tiny nose that slopes slightly upward, and thick, dark brown lashes. I also know she has a small smattering of freckles on her face and nose. There’s a softness to her appearance, a sweetness that beckons me, but there’s also a haunted look in her eyes, as though she’s experienced a traumatic event or a loss that will never leave her.
Gods. What if the traumatic event was the conquering of Braemar? Was she terribly frightened as my people attacked her city? And did she lose anyone of importance during the battle?
My chest aches with the need to find her, this female whose name I don’t even know, and as the sun climbs higher in the sky, desperation takes hold of me. It’s all I can do to refrain from emitting a growl of rage.
Fucking fires, why haven’t I found her yet?
I peer down the line and remind myself that less than half the human households have entered the castle to pay tribute to the Winter Court. Thousands more are waiting to file into the castle. Every household is required to show up today in full, and soldiers are patrolling the streets, going door-to-door to ensure this edict is followed. I just need to be patient. Eventually, I’ll glimpse my fated mate standing in line.
Then I’ll take possession of her.
I’ll carry her away and lock her in my quarters where she’ll be safest.
Desire swells within me as I imagine the night to come, when I will claim her as my mate for all time. I can scarcely wait.
At long last, after over two thousand years of waiting, I will finally have my mate, the one female the gods have marked just for me.
But then what? Will I take her on the road with the Winter Court army, thereby exposing her to the sort of violence that most human females aren’t accustomed to? Or will I take her to my family’s manor in Frostfall only to leave her there under my brother’s protection until the entire realm finally resides under fae rule?
I cannot abandon my position with the Winter Court army. Yet I cannot fathom leaving my mate in Frostfall, a province that rests on the outskirts of the fading Winter Court.
Frustration builds inside me, and for the first time since I joined the Winter Court army, I find myself questioning everything. My purpose. What to do about Frostfall, a province that will soon crumble as ussha continues spreading away fromWinter Court lands. How to best keep my mate. Where to settle down when the last human and orc cities are finally conquered.
Before ussha started leaving the four fae courts, I thought I knew what the future held. Mostly. I believed my purpose was to serve the Winter Court army until I finally encountered my mate, then return to Frostfall and govern the province that is my birthright. While my younger brother, Lachlan, is currently governing Frostfall during my absence, I always intended to return.
But the spread of ussha has changed everything. And now, learning that my fated mate is a human female has left me more conflicted than ever. Until now, I have never felt so indecisive in my life, so uncertain. It’s a gnawing sensation of emptiness, a void that I fear might swallow me whole if I don’t make the right decision.
If only I could stop the spread of ussha. The thought of my people ruling over the entire realm is seductive, but I would much prefer to spend the next few thousand years of my life ruling over Frostfall with my mate at my side.
But the population of my home province keeps dwindling by the day. The regular faefolk who’ve called Frostfall home for thousands of years have already started migrating into human and orc lands, following the spread of ussha.
Am I destined to rule over a fading province?
What will happen if I’m away from large concentrations of ussha for too long? Will it cause my magic to fade to the point that I won’t even manage to summon wings?
Shouts rise in the distance… a commotion in the line. Pushing away my morbid thoughts, I glance at the two soldiers standing closest and order them to investigate. Normally, I would fly directly to the disturbance and mete out justice myself, but I cannot leave my place at the castle doors. I must continueto study all the faces that enter. Surely my mate will be here soon, and I don’t want to risk missing her.
