Page 4 of Of Wind and Terror

“Your Highness.” Cayetana bows her head respectfully from where she stands at the end of the hallway, waiting for me.

My head guard is a tall woman with light-blonde hair, currently plaited back from her face, and surprisingly fair skin. Right now, she wears an armored chest plate with the Spring Court insignia on her right breast and has a sword hanging from her hip. Despite her obvious beauty and almost delicate features, she’s a formidable opponent, one I know not to underestimate.

It’s why she was promoted as my head guard in the first place.

“Have they returned?” There’s no point wasting time with small talk and pleasantries. I tried to be kind, tried to prove I was a compassionate prince, and look where that got me? My mate’s gone, my kingdom is at war, and my world is falling to shambles around me.

Maybe I need to be more like Blaze and embrace the darkness percolating inside of me.

Maybe I need to accept the fact that I’ll never be a good fae, a good prince, a good leader.

Maybe I need to acknowledge that I’m a monster through and through.

“Two scouts returned just a little bit ago.” Cayetana’s lips purse, and she flicks her gaze over my shoulder towards the staircase leading down to the dungeons.

Somewhere in the distance, the Winter fae cries out, the noise trickling through the halls.

“Say what you need to say, Cayetana,” I growl out, shouldering past her.

I have to give my guard credit—she doesn’t sugarcoat her words or submit to me like all the rest of the simpering fools in my palace. I can’t help but respect her for that, even as her insubordination makes rage fester inside of me.

“You’re making a terrible mistake,” she says simply.

“Whatever do you mean?” I move briskly down the hall, but Cayetana is easily able to keep pace with me.

“The fae in your dungeons… He’s from the Winter Court, correct? One of Prince Calan’s dignitaries?”

Just hearing Calan’s name causes hot, blinding anger to rush through me, scorching my veins. I have to physically remind myself to breathe, to inhale and then exhale.

When I see him, I’m going to wrap my hands around his neck and twist. I’m not normally a violent person. Truly. After the incident years ago, I vowed to only do good in the world. I have a list of sins a mile long I need to atone for.

But that was before I met my mate.

Before she was taken from me. Before I even got a chance to claim her.

Now, the only person I need forgiveness from is Kassandra herself. Allowing her to be taken while under my own roof is the gravest sin of all.

Would she accept flowers?

Severed hands?

Decapitated heads?

I can’t imagine she would. My mate is…sweet. Soft. Innocent. She has seen far too much violence in her short life.

No matter.

That’s why Gaia chose me as her fated match. I have no qualms about bloodying my hands so she can keep hers clean.

Now, I just need to get her back from Calan. If he hurt a hair on her head, I’ll destroy him.

Cayetana continues, oblivious to the blistering rage building inside of me. It grows and grows and grows like a tsunami made of fire. “Torturing him is an act of war, Treyton. You know that. And even if Calan chooses not to retaliate, we can’t afford to alienate some of our only allies.”

I whirl towards her, not bothering to adopt my normally cheerful mask. No, I want her to see the beast I’ve become, the beast Kassandra’s absence has created.

There’s a darkness inside of me, fathomless and infinite, and though it terrifies me, embracing it may be the only way to rescue Kassandra and bring her home.

Who knows what Calan is doing to her? Just thinking about the possibilities makes me sick to my stomach.

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