Lara
“Tell me more about your home,” Ever says, turning to me as he pushes logs around the fireplace with a falcon-head poker.
“Why don’t you use magic to do that?”
Satisfied with his arrangement, he returns to the table and moves his hnefatafl piece. Tonight, as promised, he plays defensive, and I’m the attacker.
“Doesn’t everyone enjoy getting close to the flames, the risk of being burned?” he asks.
“I don’t think so. Must be a hunter thing.” The nasty scar slashing his chest gleams red in the firelight, and for some reason my gaze skims off it directly onto the bed behind him. “Shouldn’t you change out of your fighting gear? Ditch those uncomfortable-looking bracers at least and put more…”
My words drift away as he smirks while working the bracers off, then flings them across the room.
I swallow, trying not to stare at his arms and chest, both cut like hard marble and covered in smooth skin that, tonight, seems somehow lit from within.
“Um. Could you…?” I wave my hand between us.
“Yes?”
“Put some more clothes on.”
A golden eyebrow rises. “My form offends you?”
Hardly.
“Well, no. It’s just… I… It doesn’t matter.”
He retrieves a black shirt from the couch and stuffs his arms into the sleeves, not bothering to button it. That solves the bulging-biceps problem nicely but does nothing to alleviate the attractive chest issue. Or that disturbing face—all perfect sharp lines and planes, the pouting top lip, and the gold paint under his eyes highlighting their strange glowing beauty. I still have to deal with all of that and pretend he looks normal.
“I forget humans are ridiculous creatures, constantly covering up the things they crave most as if it will decrease their depravities.”
Because we’ve spent a considerable amount of time playing hnefatafl these past days leading up to the feast, I know he’s joking, but something glints in his eyes, hard like the stones gilding the castle walls. The Prince of Air is displeased.
“You were going to tell me more about the place where you live,” he reminds me. “Blackburn.”
“It’s called Blackbrook. And there’s not much more to tell other than what I said yesterday. It’s a big, smelly, busy city filled with equal amounts of beauty and ugliness, crawling with both the mega-rich and super-poor. You’d hate it.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I wish to see it.”
“But you wouldn’t like it. Have you ever been to the human realm?”
“No. Until now, I haven’t wanted to. But I’ve heard many tales.”
“Well, where I live, there aren’t any magical quests like those incredible adventures I’ve been reading about in The King of Ireland’s Son.”
He straightens and leans over the table. “So, you’re reading the books in your room?”
“I am. Did you put them there?”
“No.”
My smile falters.
“But I ordered it done,” he adds with a smirk. “You are entitled to some pleasure.”
Warmth washes through me. He’s not the cold-hearted beast he pretends to be, and this kind version of Ever, the thoughtful one I see a little more of each day, is a greater danger to me than the fierce huntsman I first met. Because I think I like him. A lot. I just wish I understood him better.
“How does your magic work?”
“Do you remember the Lake of Spirits we visited on our journey here?”
“Yes, the one on top of Mount Cúig.”
“That’s right. Before the beginning of time, the Elements—the Sisters Five—sprang from deep within the lake. Our people don’t know how or why they came, only that they have always been here. They gift us with their powers. Ether, the spirit of all that lives, loves us dearly. Salamander, Undine, and Terra, like preoccupied parents, are mostly indifferent. Aer, to whom my powers are bound, wishes only to punish and control me.”
“Why? What did you do to make her hate you?”
“Just like the first Black Blood prince, I will never love her.”
I laugh, then take a sip of wine. “I didn’t realize fae could love anyone.”
“I admit it is rare. But still possible.”
“So is that why you can’t just send Aer away or…” I swallow hard. “Destroy her?”
“Yes. The waters of the lake strengthen my power, but she keeps me tethered to it.”
“I don’t understand why you want to kill your queen. Won’t you die and the curse just pass to Raff?”
His brows knit together. “I don’t know for certain, because in hundreds of years, no heir has murdered their mate before. There’s a chance it won’t pass to my brother if I kill her, a clue in an ancient poem.”
My heart clenches. “Tell it to me.”
“It’s quite long.” Sharp teeth sink into his plush bottom lip, then he speaks softly. “This is the end, the key part of the riddle. If by another’s hand the chosen dies, then before their blood fully weeps and dries, black will fade to gray, gray to white, and white to never. Never was the darkest taint and never will it ever be.”
My skin crawls. “What the heck does that mean? Again, with the stupid fae vagueness! Who is the chosen—you or the girl?”
He gives a lazy shrug.
“How can you be so casual about this?”
“I’ve lived with the curse of the black poison for many years and thought upon this riddle just as long. Surely it means if one of us is killed, it will be as if the black blood never existed.”
Now my heart hardens. “And so, you’ve chosen to kill her and save yourself?”
“No. I think I have no choice—it must be she who is murdered to end it. The girl is chosen. The prince inherits. And I cannot take the risk of provoking someone into killing me. Because if I am wrong, and dead, then the curse will pass to the kingdom’s next heir, and that is Raff. And I will do anything to prevent his suffering.”
“Even killing an innocent girl?”
“Yes.” He sighs and scrubs his face with his knuckles, looking heartbreakingly young, vulnerable even.
When he notices me staring, a blank expression replaces his tormented one. “Make your move, Lara.” He nods at the board. “I grow weary of waiting for you to begin again.”
Weighed down by talk of the terrible curse, of murder, I attempt to lighten the atmosphere. “In that case, maybe you’d better summon the pretty courtier who was hanging off you in the onyx courtyard yesterday.” Well, damn, it didn’t come out the way I intended—like a joke.
He blinks at me.
“You know, the one with the three eyes and six arms? Ask her to come and finish the game. She’d be speedier and altogether more pleasing company, I’m sure.” Now I’m sounding even meaner. And, worse, jealous.
His lips quirk. “I’d rather play with you.”
I grimace in response, and he looks momentarily uncertain before brightening. “And, if you win, Lara, I will grant you a wish. What would you ask me for?”
Here’s where I should demand he find a portal and help me return home. “Hmm…” I trail my gaze over the silver-thread pattern of bees, and feathers, and swirling wind currents on his dark shirt, his necklace finally snagging my attention. “I quite like your pendant. What is it?” I squint and lean closer.
He holds it out, and my heart pounds faster.
“A dragonfly.”
“It’s beautiful. If I win, I’ll have that, thanks.”
His sharp nail taps the insect’s garnet eyes glowing like drops of blood against the finely worked gold body. “Will you now?”
“Yep.” I seize a crispy-fried zucchini flower from a platter and stuff it in my mouth to hide my grin. “I definitely will.”
“Fine. It will suit you well and match the carved brooch the elves gave you. And if I should win this game, I will ask two things of you.”
“That’s not very fair.” I sit back, still smiling. “Why two?”
“Be at ease. The first thing I want, will be for me. And the second thing I will ask you to give me, will actually be for your own benefit.”
“Really? What can I possibly give you that will benefit me?”
“A word. Just one little word.”
“A word?” That’s not the answer I was expecting. “Well, I suppose it’s something that’s easy enough to give away.”
“Is it? Because I will not tell you what the word is until the time has come for you to use it.”
I roll my eyes. “Can’t you talk plainly for once? I don’t like all this vagueness. If I don’t know the word, you could entrap me to do anything! So, the thing I have to give you that’s purely for your sake, what is that exactly?”
His lids lower, absurdly long lashes hovering over glittery smears of gold paint under his eyes. “When the game is over, I will tell you. You must trust I won’t ask for something you’re not willing to give.”
“Curiouser and curiouser. So, can I give this mysterious boon to you in any way I want? In my own style? At least grant me that much.”
He pretends to give my request serious consideration, but I can tell he’s already decided. “Yes, of course.”
I must be crazy to agree to such vague terms from a fae. I’m going directly against my own mother’s advice. He could ask for anything. Everything. But, if I’m honest, part of me can’t wait to discover what the cruel prince of Talamh Cúig could possibly want from a human girl.
The fire crackles, sending sparks floating around us as I nod and grab my silver goblet. “Fine. I agree to your terms.” I gulp wine and watch his smile turn wicked, then slam my cup against the table. “Right. Let’s finish this game.”
We play. And, of course, I lose.
The room is suddenly too warm. “Damn, I thought I’d gotten quite good at this game.”
Ever’s eyes gleam as he stretches his spine, rubbing his almost completely healed chest wound at the same time. He must be full of aches and pains after the tournament.
“Obviously not good enough.”
“Stop smiling at me like I’m a fish on a hook.”
He laughs.
Stomach clenching in fear as I remember the bargain I made with Ether in exchange for my mom’s tale, I ask, “Okay so what’s this word I have to say? I’d prefer to get it over with now.”
This will be a bargain within a bargain.
“Nice try. You know my terms. I will tell you in good time, but not now.”
I sigh. “Fine. Be boring and keep it a secret. What’s the other thing you want then? The thing that’s strangely and worryingly just for you?”
His heated stare warms me all the way down to my toes, and something deep inside shifts.
“One kiss.”
“What?” My mouth drops open, and I can barely draw a breath.
“This kiss will not be stolen. It must be given freely. Will you keep your bargain and do this?”
“You seriously want me to kiss you?”
“Yes.” He stands and walks to the couch set on one side of the fire, then sits and stretches over the cushions like a lion basking in the sun. The silky black shirt gapes, exposing way too much golden skin wrapped over powerful muscles. “What will you do, Lara?”
Oh, boy. The Prince of Air entices me the same way a glittering spider’s web does a fly. More than anything, I want to kiss him. But I’m afraid. Afraid of the outcome. Or that I won’t be able to stop.
“Promise you won’t eat me?”
A bright color flashes over his irises. He slips his necklace off, holds the dragonfly out. “To sweeten the deal—take this—it’s yours.”
When I’m two steps closer, I smile, and reach for it.
He whisks his palm to his chest. “For it to be a gift, I must put it on you myself.” He pushes off the chair, about to stand.
I loose a long breath, then draw another for courage. “Sit down,” I say, pushing him backward. “I get to do this my way, remember? You promised. So stay put.” Before I can change my mind, I climb into his lap. When my hands frame his face, his eyes are wide and glowing blue like a sun-lit sea.
My thumbs stroke his ears, tracing over their pointed tips. “Your eyes turn bright blue sometimes. Why is that?”
His breath coming out in irregular puffs, he angles his face away.
“Answer me, Ever. I know you can’t lie.”
Those bright-blue eyes lift. “So now I’m Ever, am I?”
“Don’t try to change the subject. What makes your eyes change color?”
He huffs a sigh. “Strong emotions.”
“Like anger?”
He nods.
“And hate?”
A brief dip of his chin.
“I see.” Slowly, I push his shirt off his shoulders.
His breath hitches, chest pumping harder.
“So are you telling me that’s what you feel right now, anger?”
“No. Not that.” His warm palm cradles my cheek, the pads of his fingers pressing gently as though he’s testing how delicate my flesh is. “It’s not hatred or even dislike. It’s akin to…” His hand leaves my face and drops to rest on his thigh. “I’m not sure, but it turns my bones to ash and is something I don’t wish to name.”
Magical tattoos that normally lie dormant activate and flare over his skin, gold and silver, reminding me of traditional Japanese paintings of clouds. On the left side of his chest, glows the large triangle, point upright with a horizontal line through the middle—the elemental symbol of air and seat of his power.
I stare at him in silence, and then glance at the wings made of twisted gold and silver sticking out between his clenched fist. A scent of sweet grass and the tang of the air before rain makes me dizzy.
A smile plays around his lips, and he looks down at his fist. “Your necklace.”
“Yes. That’s mine.”
As his almond-shaped eyes narrow, my hair lifts and shimmies around my shoulders, a warm breeze caressing my skin, stroking and taunting. I duck my chin and he places the chain over my head, the metal cool against my breasts as the pendant falls into place.
“Of my own free will, I give the garnet-eyed dragonfly to you, Lara of Blackbrook. It is a sign of my protection—and you would be wise not to take it off.” Lips slightly parted, his face tilts toward me. “Now complete our agreement and kiss me.”
“Wow. You make it sound so businesslike.”
A lip quirk and a one-shoulder shrug. “Then kiss me and see if it is so.”
The thick drapes suddenly flutter. Tree branches scratch against the stone balcony outside. A falcon shrieks nearby. Tension charges and heats the air, so every breath scorches my lungs. He grabs my arms, at the same time lowering his eyelids, waiting for me to make my move. It’s now or never.
I lean in. My lips brush his, our panted breaths mingling. My arm snakes behind his neck and around his shoulders as I kiss him properly, opening to his heat, tasting.
A storm rages inside me, rattling and bruising muscles and bones and, oh but, it feels so good.
“Lara,” he whispers, as he extracts the pendant from the neckline of my dress, his knuckles rasping the silver and gold fabric as he fists the dragonfly. “This gown… tonight, you look like a queen.”
I would laugh at that idea if I were prepared to stop kissing him. But I’m not. Not yet.
His hands gently rove my body, exploring. He pulls away, lips wet, eyes wild. “We should stop,” he says, and then immediately presses deeper.
Using fistfuls of his hair, I wrench his head back. “Why?”
Agony flashes in his eyes, blue, silver, then blue again. “I don’t know. I gave you the dragonfly. I swore to protect you.” Did he? Is that what that meant? “My head is a hurricane, and I cannot tell if what I do now is protecting or hurting you. Do I do this only for myself or for us both?”
“Definitely for us both. Please don’t stop now.”
“Wait. You’ve done this before?”
“Kissed a fae prince? Nope. I sure haven’t.”
He smiles. “Bedded a man?”
“A mortal man? Yep, I have.”
Silver eyes turn a deep fiery indigo as, with the flick of a wrist, he flips me on the couch and crawls up my body. “A great many?”
“Not too many and not too few.” That’s my business, no one else’s. “Just the perfect amount.”
“Whatever the number may be, I will erase the memory of each and every one from your mind, rip them from your soul forever.”
“You’re very sure of yourself.”
He sucks my bottom lip between his teeth, biting gently.
“Hang on.” Holding his sharp cheekbones, I press him away. “Have you… slept with many humans before?”
“It’s true many fae do enjoy humans, but I have never felt…” He looks away, probably searching for words that won’t offend.
“Attracted?” I kiss his pout, and say, “Well, I’m sorry I don’t have any fae-girl special sauce to spice things up for you. This might be bland—a disappointment.”
His laugh is low and cruel, but his words the opposite. “Lara. If you think you need some extra seasoning, a dash of magic to make you more palatable, then you do not see yourself clearly.”
A shaky smile spreads over my face. “But when we met, you thought I was a…”
“Enough talk,” he says through a laugh. “As you discovered at Samhain, you do indeed have magic. You entranced us all. And maybe you’ve used it to possess my mind. Yes. This could be the reason I think of nothing else but the constellation of stars on your cheeks, wondering what other galaxies I will find billowing on your skin.”
Holy smoke. What can I say to that? “Will we work alright together?” Hardly a poetic response. “You certainly feel the same but—”
He laughs. “Of course. Faeries have been taking mortal lovers for centuries. Some human women even bear us children.”
I gulp. “Oh. I didn’t think about that. Could you… I mean… how would we prevent that from happening?”
“It only happens where there is love, a deep connection. And between our species that is rare. In truth, it is almost impossible.”
Well, that’s a relief then—a one-sided infatuation is unlikely to produce offspring. Imagine that—a half-fae, half-human baby. What would it look like? What would Aunt Clare think if I took one home?
“You told me when we traveled here that you could break a human lover. Is that true?”
“Should I wish to shatter you, it would be easy.” He kisses me, and I forget everything but the sound, the taste. Then he stops. “But I can take care and go slowly. Do you believe me?”
“You can’t lie, right?”
His grin widens.
“Right?” I say, panicking a little.
“Right,” he agrees, throwing his legs off the couch and pulling me into his lap. He stands, holding me like I weigh nothing. Talk about strong.
As he walks us over to the canopied bed, I trace the point of one of his ears. He lowers me to the furs, large hand bracing my jaw. Then his fingers trail to my chest, his palm pinning me in place. I can’t move.
“Do you trust me?” he asks, and shivers when I run my fingertips down the rigid lines of his stomach.
“How could I not?” I say, not one hundred percent convinced I’ll survive this.
“Prove it,” he says as blue light crackles from his fingertips, and he pushes his palms toward the high ceiling. The bed rushes into the air, spinning slowly, haphazardly, like a ship rocking on a turbulent sea.
The hnefatafl table is knocked over, books tumble from a shelf, a wall tapestry floats to the floor. Armor, knives, and swords skittle about the room.
Heaven help me. I think I’m going to die.
Looking deep into his glowing eyes, I take a long breath, then another for good measure. I reach for his face and, pulling him close, wipe the wicked smile right off it with my tongue.
