Page 107 of Bride of the Fae Prince

This wasnotpart of the plan.

“And if I was bargaining my wife’s life?” he purrs, and his voice is about as warm as the blade against my neck. “Would you listen then?”

Part of me insists I trust my husband, his wicked games and careful maneuvers. The other part of me burns with betrayal. He didn’t tell me this was going to be part of this negotiation. The plan was that he would bargain five more human kingdoms and his magic to extend the Faerie border, whereas Rahk could only ransack the kingdoms but not claim them as part of Faerieland. In exchange, Ash was going to ask for the slaughter to be delayed until after Lulythinar.

He hadn’t lied when he told me his plan. So either he’s making this up as he goes—a terrifying thought—or he deliberately crafted his words to conceal more information than they revealed without telling an outright lie. The fae are clever with their words, after all.

Ash’s grip on my wrists tightens and pulls down harder, so I’m forced to extend my vulnerable neck, giving his blade more room to tease against taut flesh. I gasp again, and it’s loud enough that there’s no way the High King misses it.

He leans back further in his throne, his gaze back on me. On my neck. Something dark and hungry flashes in his irises. Something that wouldn’t have intimidated me if his son didn’t have me at knifepoint.

Ash is just like his father.

The thought momentarily stuns me. I don’t actually think that, do I? No, he’s not like his father—all of this is so he can save my people from the High King’s bloodthirst. Ashisdifferent.

But . . .

Notthatdifferent.

My chest heaves with each breath. Panic flares, bright and sudden, and instinct makes me twist against Ash’s hold. He has my wrists pinned with three fingers—threefingers—and I cannot wrestle free.

Breathe,I tell myself. Breathe and stop struggling! I force my body to relax.

“We all know you want her dead,” says Ash, his dark, sardonic voice rumbling into my back. “We also know that I donotwant her dead. In fact, I’m quite loath to part with her.” The pad of his thumb runs along my jaw, a possessive stroke. Then he bends down slightly and presses a kiss to my forehead. Just as he does so, he presses the knife harder against my throat. Still not enough to break the skin, but enough to rip a whimper from my lips.

The High King hasn’t said a word, feigning indifference. The sharpness of his gaze betrays his otherwise languid pose. He sighs, shrugging one shoulder. “What does her blood matter? You still have enough time to go kidnap yourself another human princess before Lulythinar. This one’s death hardly makes any difference.”

“Does it?” Ash’s grin is almost audible. “And if I bargained not to marry another human princess before Lulythinar?”

“What is it you want?” the High King snaps. “If you’re willing to give up your human, then it’s probably not something I’m willing to give in exchange.”

“I want you to promise not to have me killed—directly or indirectly—after I’ve sired an heir.”

The High King barks a laugh.

My body goes stiff, my eyes widening. The whole throne room goes quiet. Was this expectation always unspoken? Had some courtiers not even realized this was Ash’s predicament?

And for heaven’s sake, this wasn’t the bargain he told me he’d be asking for! Where is the agreement for my people? Where is the promise to protect my homelands?

Anger burns beneath the questions flooding my mind.

Then, behind it, another question. A darker, deeper fear.

What if this was his plan all along?

What if he doesn’t actually care as much about me as he made me believe? Or, perhaps more aptly, what if he is willing to sacrifice literally anything for this throne? For his own life? He’s been sacrificing for this plot of his for centuries.

What if his lie to me that I have nothing to fear wasn’t merely a gentle encouragement? What if it was a lie because he intended to slaughter me right here, right now, at the foot of his father’s throne in a bid to guarantee his own life?

Faradir rises to his feet, his golden skin luminescent, the white of his robes gleaming like rays of sunlight. He moves like a prowling tiger as he slowly takes one step after the other until he’s off his dais, approaching Ash—approachingme—with that black cunning shining in his pupils.

When I look into the High King’s eyes, my reflection stares back at me. That of a girl in a flowery gown, eyes wide as she stands pinned between two predators. He comes to a stop, not even a full pace from me. Perhaps I would flinch if I didn’t have my arms twisted behind my back.

As it stands, fury washes through my blood.

“Perhaps I’d consider such a bargain . . .” says the King, his eyes roving over me, over my soft and sweet gown. “If it wasn’t her life that you offered, but her leash.”

My heart stops beating. I barely keep my eyes from shutting. He wants me to behispet. Not that long ago, I wouldn’t have flinched. Ash always promised to protect me, to begoodto me.

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