Page 2 of Heir to His Court

As if I'd give him the satisfaction. He'd enjoy my pain.

Yes, my halfling, I would.

“You're a bastard.”

“Yes. And evidently you require further incentive.” The aura around him darkened, pulsed with power. “I did not want to do this, Aerinne. But you cling to stubborn childhood. You suppress your own nature, the strength we must access. I can no longer treat you gently.”

This was gentle? On the heels of that fleeting thought, an answer; of course—no one I loved was dead. This wasexquisitelygentle.

I braced a second before Baba appeared at Renaud's side, as if a veil had dropped, controlling a lunge as the Prince wrapped a hand lightly around the back of my father's neck.

I forced myself not to react further, matching Renaud's energy, though pinpricks of moisture dotted my forehead. The gut deep terror that had been missing when the Prince gave me to his phantom Court was now present. My father stared at a point over my shoulder, his expression blank, his chest rising and falling.

“Baba?” He didn't respond, so I abandoned further attempts to communicate. I suppressed the boil of fury that the Lord of House Faronne should be in thrall to aMontague.

I redirected my attention to Renaud. “Have I not paid the price for his release?”

“I expected more open fury, or at the very least, pleas for mercy.” His hand tightened around my father's neck, long black nails digging into Baba's skin. “You have barely begun to pay a price foranything,Aerinne. Our scales will not be balanced for some time yet.”

My hands twitched, wanting the comfort of a blade hilt. Who was I speaking to? This male with his cool scorn threw me off balance. Neither Raniel, Darkan, nor Renaud had much of a sense of humor, certainly not in this macabre form.

“I'm trying to learn,” I said.

“Oh?”

I clasped my hands behind my back, regarding him dispassionately. “You don't want my pleas or my anger. You want me to face you from a position of strength.”

I sneered—on theinsideof my face. He implied that was what he wanted, but really, he just wanted to play games. How it must have driven him insane over the last decades to know I thoughthe, the Old One, the Prince of Everenne, was a figment of some lowly halfling's imagination. He must have writhed from the constant blow to his dignity.

Renaud blinked slowly. “You are aware that's impossible, however? Your affection for your father, your guard, is known. You are low hanging fruit, Aerinne, ripe for plucking.” His voice gentled, a mockery of gentleness. “Fortunately for you, mine is the harvesting hand, and I will pick the fruit from the tree before it rots.”

The Prince was in amood.Granted, I had done plenty today, starting with publicly flinging his bond back in his face. He'd started it. He usually did. If I did not wish him tofinishit, I must tread carefully.

“I will learn to hide open affection. I will learn not to let them be used against me.” I stepped forward, abdomen tensed against a faint queasiness because I still wasn't entirely certain that Renaud wouldn't harm my father. “I can learn whatever you wish to teach.”

“I know you can learn,” he said. His nails pierced Baba's neck.

I cursed, leaping forward. The Prince threw my father at me, and we crashed to the ground. I rolled, laying him on his back, slapping my hands over the puncture wounds. I exhaled after a moment, fingers trembling. They weren't deep. He remained sleeping while awake, locked in Renaud's thrall.

I looked up at Renaud. “I don't understand.”

He held out a hand. “I tire of this game.”

“Renaud. . .”

He shook his head. “I lecture you on displaying weakness when the Courts already know you are mine—the dagger they can wield against me if they are strong enough to grasp it.”

No Prince could rule with so obvious a vulnerability. Every decision he made would have to account for my safety. He would be forced to make unwise compromises.

“I understand the problem,” I said and rose, accepting his hand, not really having any choice. Open defiance was no longer any part of my game. Baba was alive, as safe as I could make him, and I'd rather have Renaud's full attention on me. “But it started with you. You didn’t have to claim me. That was a mistake.”

“As usual you fail to see far enough, deep enough. Yes, Aerinne, as you are finally coming to suspect—“ did I hear the echo of Darkan’s mental eyeroll in his voice? “—you willhaveto learn.”

He drew me into the circle of his arms. I laid my head against his chest, forcing my body to relax against him. It wasn't difficult. Our natures weren't so very different, after all.

A part of me wanted to fight, to establish my dominance, and another part of me wanted to offer my neck. The curse of my feminine nature. We yearned to submit to our bonded, but we were still Fae, and being Fae was a constant game of power and strength.

“The storms disturb me,” I said. “And the Black Knight. Its presence seems a herald almost.”

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