Page 20 of The Winter Prince

“Cinnamon,” he said abruptly. “I used to like cinnamon ginger tea.”

She blinked at the unexpected shift and then smiled as a warmth suffused her. Just as suddenly as he’d spoken, the fae man stood. He towered over her, his presence demanding every bit of her attention. When he spoke again, his tone had shifted from quiet uncertainty to something more urgent. “Remember my words from before.”

She stood too, a boldness lifting her hand to skim against the feathery ends of his hair; the back of her hand brushed against his tunic and the hard muscle beneath as the pads of her fingers curled in the silvery strands. If anything, it was softer than she had imagined. As silky and smooth as any of the wondrous fae fabrics in the waking world.

“Not to trust my eyes.” She dared to look up at him. “What, then, should I trust?”

He was frozen under her touch, his eyes wide, his nostrils flared. He looked terrified.

She started to draw her hand away. Had she broken some sort of fae custom?

But with reflexes faster than anything she had seen before coming to the fae realm, he captured it in his own. His hands were large, rough, calloused. The hands of a warrior. Warm in the best way.

Her mouth went dry. She cautiously looked back up at him. His expression was one of agony. He searched her eyes, though she couldn’t imagine what he was looking for. His grip on her tightened infinitesimally, and his eyes slid shut.

“Trustme.” His words slid out in a rough, whispered plea.

“But how do I find you in the waking world?”

She might as well have bitten him for how he jerked away from her. “It doesn’t matter.”

And then he was gone—the door swinging shut behind him, Kienna’s hand outstretched where he had left her. She pressed it into her stomach.

It did matter. She was absolutely certain of that. If she found him in the waking world, she suspected many of her questions about the Winter Court would be answered, because mysteries clung like a cloak to that man—that prince? He felt like a prince, with his regal air and subtle crown. He seemed like some sort of prisoner of the beast, given his reaction to him. Perhaps he was the rightful ruler of the Winter Court, and the beast had stolen the throne from him. It might explain the deplorable state of the Court.

Asking the beast about him would probably only make her task that much harder. No. She would keep her questions to herself and find the prince on her own.

Chapter 13

Enlo

Enlowassittinginthe small study down the hall from his personal suite when he heard the footsteps. His gaze snapped to the door. Most Elyri were so graceful and light-footed you hardly heard them coming, which could only mean...

The door, already slightly ajar out of his habit, creaked open as a golden head peeked through.

Kienna.

Enlo suppressed the grin that wanted to stretch across his face. He had kept his promise to Revi and not sought out Kienna. But if she came to find him—well, he could hardly be at fault for that.

She stared at him, eyes wide, taking in his face, his silver hair, his pointed ears. She lingered last on his eyes, her brow furrowing slightly, but after a moment she shook her head. She stepped into the room and shut the door behind her.

“I found you at last.” She gave a hesitant smile.

Enlo’s brows rose. She had been searching forhim? Well, that made no sense, given she didn’t even know he existed, but he wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip him by on such a triviality.

He rose languidly and smiled at her with all the charm that he possessed. “Here I am.”

She blinked. “Your voice is very smooth.” Her own voice was breathy as she said it, but there was a note to it that made him pause.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asked, giving her his best, most charming quizzical look.

She bit her lip. “No. It’s... it’s very nice. Just not what I expected.”

What she expected? Ever more curious.

“I’m afraid”—he sauntered closer to her—“I can’talwayslive up to expectations.”

Her breath caught as he paused a step away from her.

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