Page 25 of A Kingdom of Broken Bonds

Release.

The thud of the arrow makes me smile. I can’t determine if it hit the bullseye or not, but it’s certainly in the centre ring. I have been working on my shooting from a distance. While I have the strength to manage it, my accuracy from such distances is not as good.

Awareness returns to me, and I become cognisant of a presence behind me. I whirl with my fangs bared, my blade in my hand as I bear down on whoever snuck up on me.

They either have a death wish, or they are trying to hurt me. In my experience, it’s always the latter.

However, when I lock eyes with the male behind me, I only just manage to pull back from a killing blow.

Finnik.

What in the underworld does he think he’s doing getting so close to a training warrior? I’ve seen the muscles in his arms, which someone doesn’t get from just attending meetings. He trains a lot from the look of it. He should know better than to sneak up on me. If I hadn’t managed to pull back, then I could have killed him. There’s a part of me that rebels against that thought, but I push it aside and focus on my anger.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” I yell, not caring who might overhear. Speaking to him like this could probably get me executed, thanks to his close relationship with the royals, but in this moment, I don’t care.

Finnik doesn’t deign to reply, only stepping past me to peer at the target. His scent is crisp and fresh, the sort of smell that makes you want to roll around in it just so you can hold it for a second more. It is addictive—not that I would tell him that. He looks immaculate as always. I’m sure I look like a mess after two hours of training, and my scent will be anything but addictive.

Trying to calm my breathing, I watch him incredulously. There is something about him, an otherworldly aura that he carries around with him, and a presence that suggests pride and ego play a huge part in his personality. Despite not being from the kingdom, he moves around as though he owns the land, like he deserves to be here.

“It is impressive.”

His comment takes me by surprise. I thought he was going to refuse to acknowledge me. Now that he has spoken, though, I don’t know what he’s referencing.

“What is?” I ask abruptly, not addressing him formally. If he wants to sneak around and be obscure, then I am not going to pander to him.

He finally looks at me, a glimmer in his eyes and a half smile pulling at his mouth. I don’t know if all fae carry the same devilish look or if it is just something he mastered, but I get the sense he’s amused by this whole interaction. “Your Highness.”

“What?” I lower my bow, confused by his words. Is he addressing the prince? Looking over my shoulder, I see we are alone, so that can’t be the case. He’s not addressing me, and I doubt a male like him would ever deign to admit I hold a position over them.

Clucking his tongue, he crosses his arms over his chest. “I think you mean, ‘What, Your Highness.’”

Raising a brow, I give him a disparaging look as I realise what he’s implying. “Just because you spend time with royalty does not make you one too.”

“I know that.” Rolling his eyes, he takes a slow, predatory step towards me. “I am, in fact, royal. I am a prince where I am from.”

He carries himself like a royal, and his ego makes more sense now that I know this little snippet of information. If he is a prince, then why is he here? Does he not miss his family and homeland? I might have asked him this if it wasn’t for the smug expression he wears. If he is expecting me to bow and scrape now that I know he’s a prince, then he is about to be disappointed.

“Ah, but you’re not there anymore, are you?” Something about him makes me want to push back and verbally spar with the fae prince, especially when he stops just inches from me.

His eyes narrow at my comment, his voice lowering. “I am currently your only ally when it comes to Havoc, so you might not want to offend me.”

I scan him from head to toe. “Is that a threat?” My expression makes it clear that I find him lacking. Really, there is nothing lacking about Finnik. He’s gorgeous and carries a grace that should be impossible, but I would rather die than ever admit that to him.

“Oh, it’s a promise.” He grins, but it’s wicked, and two sharp fangs protrude from his mouth.

Huh, impressive. Fortunately for me though, I have my own. Grinning back, I let my fangs extend over my bottom lip. “I shall look forward to it then, Your Highness,” I say mockingly.

He laughs, a short burst that seems to take him by surprise.

I raise my bow again and aim at the target, pretending his presence isn’t a distraction. “What is impressive?” I ask, not taking my gaze from the target as I refer back to his original comment.

“That you can actually fight,” he comments lightly. “You are not the pampered princess I thought you’d be.”

Releasing the arrow, I wait only long enough to confirm that I hit the centre of the target before turning to look at the fae once more. “Your first mistake is assuming I’m a princess. I’m not. Secondly, all of the brides can fight, not just me.” He’s trying to get a rise out of me, I can see it in the mischievous gleam in his eyes, yet I can’t seem to stop myself from biting back. “Plus, if you think that was a compliment, then you need some serious help.”

I don’t know why he’s riling me up so much today when I am usually so good at blocking out others. A vampire trait is appearing cool and collected on the surface, but I’m struggling around him. I blame it on the events of the last few days causing my patience to be thinner than usual.

“No, the other brides can defend themselves long enough for their guards to step in and rescue them,” he corrects, and annoyingly, he’s right. “You might actually stand a chance against an attacker.”

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