Page 116 of Bride of the Fae Prince

Devastation when it seemed Stella wasn’t going to make it.

I barely keep my fingers from twitching in the barest tremble. She could be dead right now. Stupid,stupidgirl.

Not that I can blame her. I try to forget the pain that flashed across her face when I told her to stand by the servants. It’s impossible.

She left because of what I did. What I said.

Has she realized yet that deep down, I’m nothing but a monster? A monster who will destroy her once I’m through destroying everything else? I’m no prince. No kind husband. I don’t blame her for leaving, and yet I desperately wish she hadn’t. I wish I could have her trust, despite not earning it.

“Prince Trenian,” says the High King.

My eyes flick up to his. Just in that moment, Oleria’s hand brushes mine under the table. I keep myself rigid, not responding to her touch, not giving any outward indication of it as I await the High King’s words.

“I’ve considered your bargain.”

Oleria’s fingers slide into mine. Warm, soft, much larger than Stella’s. They thrum with that electrifying pulse of magic. But there’s somethinginher hand. Something that she presses into my palm. I close my fingers around hers, and if any of the human servants see and word gets back to the High King, this will seem nothing but a clandestine moment. Rumors could start that Oleria and I have secretly loved each other for centuries, but because of the High King, we dared not be together. The human bride is nothing but a pawn in my games. A mere tool in this larger dance of love and immortality.

I accept the tiny, folded piece of paper and slip it into my sleeve. All while not taking my eyes off the High King. He doesn’t look at me, occupying himself with the golden swirl in his goblet.

“You redeeming your favor from the Neverseen King in the manner that you described—letting Crenfyre loose on the human continent—in exchange for my delay of the conquest until after Lulythinar.”

He stops, trailing off into silence as he takes several more bites of food. Purposefully torturing me. I lean further back in my chair, grabbing my goblet and taking a few stupidly small sips.

He sets down his cutlery. Plants both his hands on his armrests. And smiles at me.

“I’ve decided to accept your bargain.”

Accept?There’s a catch. He wouldn’t accept this, despite how it benefits him. Unless he feels threatened that I might use the favor in other ways.

My fingertips buzz as I set down my goblet. “Wonderful. I shall begin discussions with the Neverseen King.”

And with that, I shove back my chair, swing my knee off the armrest, get to my feet, and march out of the banquet hall. The moment the doors swing shut behind me, I break into a run.

Where are you, Stella? Where did you go? Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.

Please.

I catch a whiff of her scent immediately and follow the trail to Rahk’s room. My heart lurches with hope. I pound on the door with the side of my fist, not even bothering with our code.

The door swings open. It’s not one of Rahk’s attendants, but Rahk himself. Shirtless, with a dark glare.

“Where is Stella?” I demand, shoving him aside, searching for any sign of her. “Stella!”

“She’s not here,” Rahk replies, already in motion. He scoops up two scabbards—his swords—and buckles them over his back. Glamoured boots and a shirt appear before he hurries after me outside the room. He sniffs in the doorway, his eyes darkening. “Shewashere. So was someone else.”

We share a look of pure horror.

Then Rahk takes the lead, catching her scent faster than I can. My lungs clench with dread.So much dread. We run down the hallway, turn left—the opposite direction from anywhere she should have been going—and barrel down the next hallway.

“The scent is still fresh,” Rahk growls, likely to ease my anxiety. Nothing will ease my anxiety, however. I’m going to throw up.

“Can you tell who she was with?” I demand.

Rahk’s jaw flexes. My gut drops.

“Princess Listhra.”

The Princess

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