Page 123 of Bride of the Fae Prince

Unless . . . maybe it is more him than his sweetness ever was.

He takes three steps toward me. Slow, prowling footsteps. I don’t flinch, even as warning bells go off in my mind.This isn’t him; this isn’t him,my mind keeps begging. I shut those protests down.

Thisishim. I need to stop hiding from the truth.

“I know the tailor told you to send for a white dress if you need to escape,” he growls. Two more steps, and he’s towering over me. Then, he lifts one hand over my shoulder, plants it on the open door behind me, and shuts it with a slam. Pinning me in the space between his arms.

I tilt my head back, meeting the force of his gaze with my own. I’m desperately aware of my own smallness, of his power, his sheer magnitude. He may be so much larger than me, so much stronger. His shoulders alone may dwarf me.

But Iwill notcower.

I glare up at him, at his beautiful, twisted face leaning over me.

“It would simplify things for me if you sent that request,” he says, lifting his other hand toward my face, dragging the tips of his fingers in a scalding line from my temple to the hollow of my throat. “Then I wouldn’t have to arrange smuggling you out of here.” He twists a lock of my hair between his fingers, his eyesnever leaving mine. “I have dreams about you, you know. Ever since I married you, when I sleep, you’re there. Like a light at the end of a tunnel. Your smile, your eyes. In the very best dreams, you laugh.” He leans closer, ducking his head and nuzzling his nose against my ear. “I love your laugh. It’s the sweetest, most beautiful sound.”

My back hits the door. I didn’t mean to retreat, but here I am, fighting to keep my breathing steady. “You shouldn’t say these things.”

“Why not?” His breath ghosts my skin. “You’re my wife.”

“You just said you’re going to remarry,” I gasp.

“I said I wasconsideringit. As an alternative to keeping you here, where only death awaits you.”

“Exactly,” I breathe when his lips trail along my jaw. “You shouldn’t be saying these things if you’re going to send me away and marry someone else.”

“It’s not safe for me to have you, but that’s not the same as me not wanting you.” He wraps a hand around my waist and pulls me against him. I can hardly breathe when his low voice murmurs, “And Great Kings, Stella, Iwantyou.”

I close my eyes against the pressure building in my chest. “You’re just determined to make this as difficult as possible, aren’t you?”

“Why do something the simple way when you can make it twice as complicated and ten times more miserable?” he murmurs against my neck.

And it’sthosewords, that scrap of dry humor, that give me sudden hope. The Ash I know is still here. He’s buried beneath so much darkness—he’s lost in that cave. But he’s not gone. He’s still with me.

Last night’s words ring in my head.It’s not my hatred of the High King that is greater than my love for you. It’s my fear of losing you.

I take hold of his face in both my hands and push him back. Just enough to look him in the eye. “Ash, you need to take back your fear. You need to take your life back into your own hands. Your father is the cruelest man I’ve ever met, but you get to decide whether you want to be his victim or not.”

He stares at me, his eyes widening a fraction. The wintry smile vanishes.

“You’re afraid of him,” I continue, letting the force of my own will burn through my words. “And your fear gives him power over you. All these games you play with him are your attempts to prove you’re not afraid, but none of them get to the root of it! None of them makes you truly overcome your fear of him. You can kill him, and you’ll find it still doesn’t cure you of your fear. Because you mustfaceit to overcome it.”

His hand on the door clenches into a fist, his jaw hardening. A storm brews behind his eyes, ready to blast through his barricades and decimate everything in its path. And the strange thing is . . . I’m not afraid of it.

He shoves off the door, putting space between us as he rakes a hand through his hair, breathing hard. His shoulders quake, his free hand trembling in midair. When he speaks, his voice is like the night itself.

“He killed my mother.”

I stay where I am at the door, listening. Waiting.

He drags his hand through his hair again, catching the ends of it in a clenched fist. “Hekilledmymother!”

Tears spring to my eyes, but I don’t move.

“She loved me, Stella.” He bares his teeth at the bookshelf, shoulders bowing, refusing to look at me. Tears slide down his cheeks and drip off his nose. “Shelovedme. And he took her away from me. For astupidreason. Because he sent me this silly mask he wanted me to wear for a ball, and I didn’t want to wear it. I wanted to wear my own mask, the one I liked. It wasthe stupidest thing, Stella. I was a willful idiot, but I didn’t think he’d . . . If I’d just worn the Kings-cursed mask, she would have lived. She wouldn’t have died. She could be here now. I could have introduced her to you. She would have loved you.Oh,how she would have loved you!”

I bow my head and stick my knuckle between my teeth. Tears stream down my cheeks as I bite. Hard.

“He had her killed right in front of me. She was dressed in red, with a ruby-studded mask. All ready for the ball. Father and I had an argument about my mask—we argued abouteverything. And then, before I could react, he’d drawn his sword and stabbed her in the chest.” His words break off into sobs, and he bows himself over his knees. It’s a strange thing to see one so mighty reduced to such soul-deep heartbreak. The next words are spat out with disgust. “I wailed like a baby.”

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