My breaths turned to pants as we climbed up. And up. And up. Windows dotted the stairwell, allowing natural light in while also revealing sweeping views of Jaggedston.
Fairy lights hung intermittently as well, and they shone off Jax’s dark locks. “The enchanted chambers I created for Bastian are on the third floor of my tower, but my private suite is at the very top.”
We climbed an additional five flights of stairs to get there, and the size and monstrosity of the Stonewild palace once again took my breath away.
“Is it normal for a crown prince to have this much space to himself?” I asked when we finally reached the top floor. I was panting heavily, not having the endurance of shifters despite my potent lorafin magic.
Jax shrugged, not even winded. “As their only official child, I will admit that my parents have indulged me.” His voice turned sharper. “Perhaps if I’d had a legitimate sibling, that wouldn’t have been the case, but as it is, all of this is mine, even though half of it should be Bastian’s.”
I followed him down another hall, which was wide enough to park two carriages side by side. Windows lined one of the walls, and imposing portraits of males and females looked down on us from the other. Each portrait held a name plaque beneath it. They were all Stagthorn family members.
The setting sun set everything aglow, but twilight had begun to set in, and one of the moons had risen. Outside in our night sky, the colors of our galaxy were coming alive.
“Did you do the decorating?” I asked when a particularly sinister-looking male gazed down his nose at me from a large portrait. Shivering, I wanted to hurry past it but found myself stopping to stare at it.
Jax halted at my side, looking up at the male. “No, I can thank my mother for that. She won’t admit it, but I have a feeling the reason she insisted on placing family portraits here is to remind me of who I am every night when I go to bed. Having my ancestors stare at me each day is supposed to instill in me a sense of duty and purpose. I dare say my mother has sensed some of my discontent with our family’s line.”
I cocked my head at him. “And has it? Instilled a sense of duty and purpose, I mean?”
“It has, although not in the way my mother intended.” He nodded up at the dark-haired male staring at us. “That’s my grandfather.”
My eyebrows shot up, and I studied the severe-looking fairy again. Like Jax, he had midnight black hair, chilling blue eyes, and strong features. I couldn’t recall seeing a picture of Jax’s father, but if my mate resembled his grandfather this closely, I imagined it was the same with his da. “When did he pass?”
“Eighty full seasons ago, when I was twenty summers old. He lived to two thousand, one hundred, and eighty-seven summers and ruled this kingdom for over fifteen hundred of them. He abdicated the throne to my father around four hundred summers ago, as is common in our kingdom when a royal is nearing the end of his life.”
“And his name?”
“King Jackson Persevious Adar Stagthorn, ruler and creator of Stonewild Kingdom, king of the stags, and commander of the north.” A throb of Jax’s aura puffed out of him, enveloping me in his scent. A trace of bitterness coated the pine and spice, and I glanced at my mate to find a contemptuous look on his face. “My grandfather claimed the Stonewild throne after the elvish wars ended, and he managed to hold on to it despite all of the strife and political maneuvering during that tumultuous time.” His eyes narrowed, and he scratched his chin. “But whenever I see his picture, I don’t see a male blessed with a cunning mind and courage to declare an entire kingdom his.”
He paused, his brow furrowing. “No, instead I see a male who began the ostracization of our culture. It was my grandfather who declared that wildlings should be in serving positions only. He felt their inferior magic deemed them lesser.” His jaw locked, and he began to stride away, as though looking at his grandfather for any length of time infuriated him. “I have no doubt if my grandfather were alive today, he would have agreed with my father on the treatment of Bastian.”
I hurried after him, taking one last glance over my shoulder at his imposing grandfather. The artist who’d painted him had also drawn antlers along the bottom of the portrait, and I couldn’t help but notice their size and shape were similar to the antlers Bastian had permanently and the ones Jax could call forth with his magic.
“His name was Jackson, and one of your middle names is Jackson,” I commented.
Jax glanced over his shoulder at me, and a sly smile lifted his lips. “It was, and it is.”
I offered a teasing smile in return. “I suppose I won’t need to ask Saramel, after all, where your nickname comes from.”
He chuckled softly and stopped when he reached a set of large double doors in the middle of the hall. “I suppose you won’t.”
I cocked my head. “What about everybody else’s true names? Come to think of it, I’m only certain of Nellip and Alec’s birthnames. Alec told me everyone’s nicknames were roughly their true names spelled backward, but he never actually told me what they were.”
He made a low sound in his throat. “How remiss of me. You’re correct that Phillen’s true name is Nellip. Lars was born with the name Sarl. Bowan is Nathob. Trivan is Navani. Lander is actually Edwin. Like me, Lander chose a middle name for his nickname. And Alec...is Alec. We call him Cal on our raids.”
“And Quinn?”
Jax shrugged. “He’s just Quinn. We never gave him a nickname since he’s usually in shadows and has such few interactions with actual fae.”
I contemplated all of their true names. Nellip, Sarl, Nathob, Navani, Edwin, Alec, and Quinn. I made a face. “I have to say, I quite enjoy their nicknames more.”
He smirked. “That makes two of us, or rather seven of us. All of us prefer our nicknames, and as you may have noticed with Bastian, it’s also what my brother prefers calling me.” He grasped one of the door handles of the double doors we’d stopped at, and a shimmer of his magic disengaged the lock.
But before he could open it, I thought back to the picture of his grandfather and asked, “Brommel stag shifter blood must run strongly in your family, and the land’s magic here must want your line to continue having that shifter ability.”
He faced me more, and his azure eyes looked stormy in the dying sunlight. “It does run in our family, and you’re right. My line keeps producing brommel stags. My great-grandfather was also a stag shifter, as was my grandfather, father, and now me.”
Unconsciously, I put a hand to my stomach. If Jax and I ever conceived a child, I had no doubt if I birthed him or her here, he or she would also be a stag. Or perhaps it wouldn’t matter which kingdom I was in at the time. It certainly hadn’t with Jax. He possessed magic from allfourkingdoms—a true anomaly.
