Page 143 of Bride of the Fae Prince

“They do disappear when they’ve been fulfilled,” I say. “Many of mine have already half disappeared, either because I have completed my end of the bargain, or because they have completed theirs. Or they disappear once it’s no longer possible to fulfill the bargain.”

“What’s this big crown on your wrist for?” She traces each spire of the crown, and I find my eyelids drooping closed. I might be just as tired as she is.

“It’s the bargain I made with Faradir, that he would allow me my choice of a bride from any of the courts so long as I had a wife by Lulythinar.”

“Both broken halves are still there.”

“Both will disappear after Lulythinar. If you stay with me, if I have you as my wife on Lulythinar, then I will have honored my part of the bargain, and Faradir will have honored his by letting me choose. If I do not have a wife by midnight on Lulythinar, then I will be bound to marry Faradir’s choice. His half of the bargain will disappear, and mine will disappear when I have sired an heir.”

I try to say the words as emotionlessly as possible. I doubt it works. Stella props herself up on one elbow, leaning over me, over my face, as though trying to make her human eyes see me as clearly as I see the furrow of her forehead.

Then she tilts her face, and my sleepy mind almost doesn’t have time to prepare itself for the sudden flood of tingling pleasure down my spine when she begins whispering in my sensitive ear.

“I’m staying with you, Ash.”

I go still. Inside, my mind erupts with sudden protests, with urges that she’s safest the farther away she is from me.

But then she adds, “Because I love you,” and then I cannot contain the overwhelming joy that has me sitting upright, pulling her to me, and smothering her in forceful, passionate kisses. The kisses I wanted to give her at the banquet tonight. The kisses I’vealwayswanted to give her.

When I feel my self-control fracture, Stella—as aware as I am of the boundaries we cannot cross—asks about a different tattoo, and then another, and another, until we fall asleep tangled in each other’s arms.

Chapter 52

The Princess

I’ve hardly eaten breakfastand readied myself for the day before chaos erupts across the entire palace the next morning.

“I don’t know what His Highness put in that letter or what the Neverseen King has done,” Edvear says, coming back from some errand, and panting hard as he shuts the door, “but it looks like heads are going to roll.”

“Heads?” I ask, wiping my mouth with a napkin and rising from the table. “What has happened?”

Before he can answer, the door opens once more. Ash’s shoulders fill the doorframe. He shoots eyes flashing with thrill and a devilish grin my way.

“Want to come see the fun?” he asks me by way of greeting.

“Are you sure it would be safe for—” Edvear protests.

But Ash catches me by the hand and drags me out of his quarters into the hallway. It’s usually empty, but right now it’s full of guards and bustling servants.

“Should I—” I start to ask about my glamours, but Ash cuts me off with a sharp shake of his head, apparently knowing exactly what I was wondering.

He tucks me into his side protectively and pushes through the throng, his grip tightening every time someone steps too close to me.

It’s a stark reminder of just how vulnerable I still am, no matter my glamours and newfound strength. If I am hidden as someone else, I am safer. But I, as myself, Princess Stella, am vulnerable as ever.

Ash leads me to the palace greens, not through the main entrance, but through a servant’s corridor until we circle around to the side and come upon the tableau.

The High King stands on the marble steps of the palace, flanked by his guards. He wears his tall, golden crown on his golden head, a long spear in his hand.

Before him, on the palace greens, stands an entourage wreathed in black. At their helm are two figures—each at least seven feet tall. The woman wears a black gown made of shimmering silver stars, her dark skin effervescent like a moon’s shadow. Her hair is white as fresh snow, falling over her shoulder and to the ground in a show of cascading beauty. Her crown is jagged and sharp, made of obsidian.

The man beside her is equally tall, though his skin is pale, and his long hair a rich, raven black. He wears a trailing robe that catches and swallows the light around him. His crown matches the woman’s, and together, they are a force unlike anything I have ever seen before.

Lord and Lady Nothril.

Rahk’s parents.

And I thoughtmyfather was intimidating.

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