Page 36 of Of Wind and Terror

I can’t allow a single chink in my armor, a single crack in my mask.

Biting down on my lower lip hard enough to bleed, I begin to tap my fingers against my thigh. There’s comfort in the familiarity of such a movement.

Safety.

Mikage doesn’t even blink at my outburst, though his lips do tighten at the corners. “Not everything is as black and white as it appears. The Summer King and Queen were not good fae or leaders. Draven did the Summer Court a favor.”

“By killing thousands of innocents?” I shouldn’t care about these answers. I don’t want to. Caring is what got me into this predicament to begin with. The Summer fae aren’t my responsibility.

And yet…

“It’s not that simple,” Mikage says. He scratches absently at his wrist. “We did what we had to do.”

“And what about Prince Narian? Did he deserve to die?”

Mikage casts me a confused look before focusing back on the castle. “He’s not dead,” he says vaguely, then gestures me forward. “Come. We have a lot to discuss.”

With heavy reluctance, I follow Mikage through the large oak doors and into the immense entrance hall. The polished tiles almost seem pearlescent, the colors alternating between an eggshell white and a dull pink depending on how I look at it. The domed ceiling is constructed entirely of glass, allowing an ample amount of sunlight to illuminate the area.

There are numerous hallways branching in every direction and a wide staircase leading to a mezzanine. It’s there Draven stands, his hands resting loosely on the railing, his smile carefree and jovial as he gazes down at me.

A ruler overlooking his subject.

I instantly straighten my spine and grit my teeth together.

Draven may think of me as his prisoner, but he’s wrong. I’m a Gaiadamn prince.

I refuse to allow this bastard to look down on me.

“Welcome!” Draven spreads his arms wide as if giving the room a hug. His benevolent smile never falters, though his eyes flicker with a chilling darkness I feel in the hollow of my bones. “Please, make yourself at home.”

I keep my expression blank. “Like you did?”

“Now, now, Prince Calan.” He waggles a finger in the air disapprovingly. “That’s no way to speak to a prince.”

He spins on his heel and walks through a second pair of doors at the very top of the staircase. He doesn’t wait for us to follow, but Mikage immediately hurries after his master like a besotted puppy. I remain where I am, studying the hall with keen eyes.

After a moment, I choose a hallway at random and walk down it.

“Prince Calan!” Mikage calls to my retreating back, but I ignore him, opening up doors as I go and peering into each room.

All of them are empty, a fine layer of dust collecting on every available surface. It’s apparent that, despite what Draven wants me to believe, he doesn’t spend too much time in their residence.

“Calan.” Mikage’s voice lowers with urgency as I reach a door at the very end of the hall.

Unlike the others, this one is latched shut with a padlock.

Interesting.

My curiosity piqued, I will ice into my fingertips and then drag them across the lock. It instantly freezes over and then shatters to the ground with an audible thunk.

Mikage curses and races towards me, already drawing his sword, but he’s too far away. I give the other fae a droll look, as if daring him to stop me, push open the heavy door, and step inside.

What the hell?

I don’t know what I expected behind the locked door, but it certainly isn’t this.

My carefully placed mask cracks. I can’t stop from gaping in shock.

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