Page 33 of Ravenrose

“What—the fuck—” a deep growl emanates low in his throat beneath his words, “—are you doing here?”

Chapter 16

AYER

The Sitari princess does nothing but stare back at me. Her eyes wide with fear. She doesn’t move—doesn’t blink—and she doesn’t answer my fucking question.

Not that she can. My eyes drop to the dirty cloth wedged between her teeth.

With her hair down, the thick dark locks covering most of those moon-cursed ears, and those big green eyes, she could be mistaken for just another terrified girl.

My eyes narrow at the sight of her. I know better.

Like every other fae I have encountered, even covered in dirt and blood as she is, the princess is beautiful. The fae are beautiful by design. A deadly trait refined through generations, bred into their blood to enchant, enrapture, and manipulate their victims to their darkest delights.

She’s a little thing. Perhaps the smallest fae I’ve ever seen, with soft, delicate features and long limbs. My eyes slide back to her ears. They’re hard to see in the dim lighting, her hair partially obscuring them. But through the strands, I can just make out the delicate tapered tips poking through the tangles.

I scowl at her.

She doesn’t look away. Watching me as a deer would a wolf.

It takes real effort to contain the rage brewing in my chest at finding this little surprise. A fucking faerie. In my tent. If this turns out to be someone’s idea of a joke, I swear I will tear those responsible limb from limb.

“Wyatt!” I shout loud enough for my lieutenant outside to hear.

The unexpected noise shoots through the tense silence within the tent, eliciting another little jump from the faerie.

The sharpness in my tone brings Wyatt scrambling inside within seconds, already shaking his head as he ducks through the tent flaps, both hands held up defensively. “I told him it was a bad idea.”

Ripping my attention off the princess, I turn my blazing glare on him. “You knew about this?”

Wyatt looks between me and the princess at my back and grimaces.

A dark swirl of rage flares inside my chest, and it takes monumental effort to keep it contained. I need to keep control, so I choose my next words carefully, sliding my gaze back to the little faerie.

“What’s it doing in my tent?”

“Uhhh,” Wyatt fidgets in my periphery. “You might want to discuss that with Theo…”

“Wyatt,” I warn, my voice hard.

My lieutenant swallows hard, shifting his weight on his hips again before speaking. “She’s—er—she’s yours. Theo made a gift of her.” Wyatt pauses, his eyes flicking briefly to the fae bound across from us. “To, uh... enjoy,” he finishes with a wince, looking up at me nervously.

I clench my jaw, flexing my fist at my side, and the muscles in my arms ripple with tension.

“No.”

Not quite knowing what to do with that response, Wyatt takes a cautious step backward, his gaze still flitting between me and the princess.

I’m going to fucking kill Theo.

“Gifted her to me? Like what?” I growl menacingly, the anger I’m struggling to hold back laced within my every word. “Like a bloody present?”

Wyatt just shrugs. “Well, yeah. He meant her to be a reward. To—” he cuts off, his eyes trailing over to the princess again, who I’m not quite sure is breathing on the other side of the room, “—to amuse you.”

I curse, loudly. The tentative grip I have on my emotions slips, and I pound my fist into the nearest table in frustration, splintering the wood with a loud crack.

Wyatt—to his credit—stays silent in response. Likely weighing whether or not words are safe yet.