Page 120 of Of Wind and Terror

She called me Raven.

From then on out, I visited her every night I could. I searched with bated breath for her thread to appear, and then I’d pluck it with eager anticipation. Every time I was with her, one word reverberated through my head on repeat.

Mate.

Kassandra was—is—my mate.

I needed to get to her. Save her.

She didn’t outright admit it, but I knew she lived in less than savory conditions. She alluded to an abusive guardian on more than one occasion.

Didn’t she understand that I was a damn prince? That I could save her?

But she didn’t believe I truly existed, and I had no way of proving it to her.

I sent guards out daily to try and track her down, but every time they arrived back at my doorstep with a blonde-haired female, devastation ravaged me at the knowledge that it’s not my blonde-haired female.

And then Sylvan came to my home and locked me away.

Locked my powers away.

Now, it’s impossible for me to reach her. I can do nothing but sit here and waste away.

I half wonder if the brief glimpse I had of her in my prison was real or a hallucination. It wouldn’t surprise me if it was the latter. I feel as if I’m losing my mind.

“You still awake?” Calan’s wary voice drifts to me from the cell next door.

“No,” I deadpan as I once again fiddle with the cuff on my wrist.

Anger swirls insipidly in my stomach when I think about how stupid I was to trust Sylvan. Everyone always told me he was one tick away from losing his damn mind, but I defended him. He was my friend, after all, despite his numerous flaws. Practically my brother.

How stupid I’d been.

How naïve.

Can princes even have friends? Or are we fated to wander this world alone?

The last thought conjures up images of Kassandra.

Was that meeting with her in my cell real? It certainly felt so. I swear I can feel her touch on my arm even now, magnifying my goose bumps and sending tendrils of heat through my body.

“When do you think we’ll see Draven—I mean Sylvan again? He hasn’t visited us in a while.” Even imprisoned, Calan sounds as impassive as ever, his voice layered with frost.

“Maybe he got his cock eaten off,” I suggest dryly, offering a brittle smile I know he can’t see.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Calan snorts. “How in the world would that happen?”

“Don’t know. Maybe a monster?”

“So you’re saying that a monster ate Sylvan’s cock off?” Calan chokes on a laugh.

At least, it sounds like one, though I’m not sure I ever heard the Winter Prince properly laugh before.

“Stranger things have happened.” I pluck at the cuff yet again, and this time…it moves.

A cold, seeping chill winds its way down my spine.

“What do you think he meant when he said that Chaos infected the Summer family?” Calan continues, but I ignore him as I focus all of my attention on the metal cuff.

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