Page 19 of The Winter Prince

Enlo wanted to rip at his hair. “You’re more than just a beast. You’re the prince of our Court, the Heart of Winter.” The words burned up his throat as he thought of the curse.A, notthe.

“I may be the Heart of Winter,” Revi agreed in a low rumble, “but these forms cannot show the human something that isn’t there. To break the curse your way, she will have to love me as a beast.” At these words, he scoffed. “Or she will never love me at all. It was a false hope to bring her here.”

Enlo’s hands clawed into the back of the sofa as his heart cracked in his chest. He had always loved Revi. He had always supported him, stood by him through the tumultuous years since his cousin had taken the throne in his parents’ absence. He had protected Revi’s back in the war—though he wasn’t even half the warrior Revi was. Together, they had driven away their enemies, but now thorns wrapped around Enlo’s heart. He had never wished as much as he did in that moment that he was not second to the throne. Second to Revi. Because if that was how Revi saw himself, if that was what he presented to Kienna for her entire stay with them, Enlo’s hope of the curse breaking was foolish indeed.

Any trace of doubt in his mind vanished. He could not trust the task of breaking the curse to his cousin. Which meant that Enlo was the Winter Court’s only hope.

Chapter 12

Kienna

Kiennawokeinhercozy cottage. She stood and looked around at the mismatched furniture, the soft quilt thrown over one chair, the light curtains fluttering from the warm breeze blowing from outside.

She moved to prepare tea. As she did so, she marveled over her familiarity with the space. But of course it was familiar. Her memories whispered through her slowly; she’d spent nearly every night here since coming to the Winter Court. This was a dream.

But even in her first dream, the cottage had felt familiar. As far as she could remember, she had never seen anything quite like it in the real world, but if she had to make a home for herself—outside of the one she shared with her family—this was the sort of home she would have chosen. It was perfect for quiet days alone, embroidering or reading, or entertaining a guest or two.

At that thought, a knock came at the door. She blinked and looked down at the tray in her hands.

Two steaming teacups sat on it. But hadn’t she just poured the water in the kettle? She gave her head a small shake and set the tray on the table to answer the door.

It was the silvery fae, of course. He’d come to visit once before. At least, she thought he had. Trying to recall her other dreams was a hazy effort. But he seemed familiar; surely she’d seen him before.

As he had last time, he looked unnaturally attractive, with his broad shoulders and long silver hair. He carried himself with a proud, regal air that somehow also felt deeply dangerous—not as if she was in dangerfromhim, but that anything that threatened her would suffer greatly. He was a man who knew how to protect and to rule, a fact doubly evidenced by the small silver circlet that rested on his brow. He was dressed in the exact same exquisitely made, soft silver tunic he’d had on last time. She bit her lip at the thought. In her waking hours, she couldn’t remember what he looked like, save for the silver hair and blue eyes. How did she know that he wore the same clothes now?

“Won’t you let me in?” His voice rumbled over her skin, scattering her thoughts like dust on a breeze.

“Of... of course.” She stepped aside for him. He strode in and took a seat, not waiting for her to invite him to pick up one of the teacups. He held it to his nose and drew in a deep breath. When he glanced at her, his eyes were half-lidded in a way that sent a shiver through her body.

“I hope you like it.” She hurried to drop into the seat across from him. “If you’re going to keep up these visits, you should tell me what sorts of teas you prefer so that I can prepare those for you instead.”

Something glinted in his face at that—wary amusement, or perhaps surprised delight. “Why are you so kind to me?”

She paused, her own cup halfway to her mouth. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just...” He shook his head. “I’m not used to being treated with any sort of tenderness.”

She took a sip of her tea to gather her thoughts. “In the waking world—” she began, but hesitated. Hadn’t he left when she started prodding before? He was clearly fae, like the beast and Zoya. So perhaps, like them, he had to take care with his words. There was something at work in the Winter Court, something even Zoya, in all her kindness toward Kienna, refused to speak of. She continued, picking through her words. “Do you also live at the Winter Castle?”

The look in his glowing blue eyes was unreadable. It felt like a victory when he gave her a small nod.

She smiled, but the smile melted into a frown. “I’ve been there for weeks. Here,” she corrected. Just because this place didn’t look like the Winter Court’s castle didn’t mean she had escaped. “How have I never seen you?”

His eyes tightened, and he looked away. His long silvery hair slid over his chest as he did so. Her fingers twitched toward him, aching to know if it felt as silky as it looked.

“What do you think of the Prince of Winter?” he asked, his mouth curling into a small sneer at the name.

Kienna searched for words again, this time because she wasn’t sure how to answer the question. “He hasn’t hurt me. He’s terrifying…” Admitting that to someone was like opening a window into her soul. A breath of fresh air, but the words made her guest’s shoulders tense. She hurried on. “But as terrifying as he is, hehaskept his word. I do... I do feel safe, for the most part. Perhaps it won’t be so terrible, the rest of my year here. I only have to stay that long before I can return home to my family.” A weight grew on her chest at the mention of them.

His chin dipped down against his chest.

Kienna tilted her head and studied him. The posture was almost one of defeat. “What do you think of the beast?” Tension rippled through him, sparking concern in her. “Has he hurt you?”

His laugh was bitter. “The beast has hurt everyone in the Winter Court, and he will only continue to do so.”

She leaned back at the ferocity of his tone. “But your anger toward him seems personal,” she murmured. “He’s done something to you directly, hasn’t he?”

The silence stretched. The longer it did, the more it felt like confirmation of her words.

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