Page 38 of How To Woo A Warrior Orc

I didn’t think the prince had this in him, and I don’t like the way he wears his mother’s violence like a mantle.

One side of Caelan’s mouth kicks up in a twisted grin, and when he glances around Kieran’s wings at me, he smirks.

“Are you right about this?” he asks.

I rub my temples, because I know that look on Caelan’s face.

He is goading the prince.

“I am right about this,” Kieran hisses. He stabs a finger on the wide oak table for emphasis.

“Why do you care so much? These aren’t your people. This isn’t your town. You never gave one shit about what happened to anyone in the Underhill besides your own selfish hide.”

The rage radiating from Kieran becomes palpable, chartreuse magic shimmering around him.

I don’t know exactly what Caelan is attempting to do, but I know him well enough to recognize a trap when I see it. I take a step closer to the two powerful Unseelie, ready to step between them if the occasion calls for it.

“What, my young friend, are you willing to stake on being right about it?”

There it is.

That’s a hook from a trickster fae if I’ve ever heard one.

“I would stake my life on being right. This town needs protecting, and this innisa waypoint.”

“You would protect it?” Caelan asks quickly, almost eagerly. “At all costs, even against your mother?”

Ah, fuck.

“Of fucking course I would, and you should too. Isn’t the little silversmith witch your mate?—”

Kieran’s voice breaks off, and he raises his hand from the wooden table.

A drop of crimson blood shimmers on one lilac finger, and his wings lower, his shoulders sagging.

“Ah-ah, you don’t get to be mad,” Caelan tells him in a satisfied voice. “A little blood oath never hurt anyone.”

“Fuckyou, Caelan.”

“So sorry to tell you that position’s been filled, little prince.” Caelan’s eyes shimmer, fresh anger dancing in his eyes. “Bythe little silversmith witch, as you, yourself, just said. My mate. So forgive me for ensuring her safety through whatever means necessary.”

Kieran doesn’t reply, just glares at him for a long, tension-filled moment. “You didn’t need to trick me into swearing a blood oath. You are myfriend. I don’t want you to hurt because something happens to your mate. I care about this place, too.”

Caelan’s smirk disappears, a frown in its place.

“I might be an Unseelie prince, Caelan, but I am not my mother. I am who I choose to be.”

With that, Kieran storms off, his chartreuse magic sparking behind his wings as he goes.

A door slams so loud a moment later that it rattles the art on the walls.

“Well, that could have gone better,” Caelan finally manages.

He even looks slightly embarrassed.

“Don’t move,” I tell him in a low, dangerous voice.

He freezes. “What?”

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