Page 48 of Bride of the Fae Prince

The sight of her like this is physically painful.

I can’t bear it any longer.

I take a step toward her. She doesn’t flinch or move away, so I close the distance between us. I hesitate, then lay my hand on her back. When she accepts the touch, I pull her into my arms and wrap her up in a tight embrace as she sobs.

You swore to be good to her,the furious part of me shouts.Now look at what you’ve done! You’ve hurt one of the few good and beautiful things in this world.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper into her hair, almost desperately. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

We stay like that for some time, until she starts trembling, her knees knocking against mine. I bend and scoop her up, carrying her to the couch and arranging her in my lap. She curls in close, her tears slowing to little stutters as she folds herself into a ball. I hold her close, trying to keep my own emotions in check.

She trusts me enough to allow the touch. It’s the lifeline of hope I need to keep from believing I’ve already lost her.

At long last, she is calm, her head lying on my shoulder.

“You betrayed me,” she whispers.

This woman can slice a man in half with her words. I close my eyes and bow my head.

“You didn’t warn me. Or explain anything to me.”

“I didn’t want to frighten you.”

She pushes back on my chest enough to glare at me, and there’s that spirit she buries so deep. “You thought I would belessfrightened to walk into something completely unfamiliar and find out this wasn’t the political alliance you said, but some kind of trick against the High King of the Fae? You thought Iwould belessfrightened to discover via a spear hurtling toward my face than simply telling me that my new father wants me dead?”

With those words, she scoots off my lap and gets to her feet. She moves several steps away, arms crossed over her chest as she glares at me.

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “I didn’t think you would follow me into that throne room if you knew what awaited you.”

“Because you think I have no courage?” she shoots back. “Because you think so little of me?”

I reel back. “What?”

“Youcaredabout me. You were good to me last night and this morning. I was supposed to become the sixth wife of a drunkard—my father was going to give me to someone who would beat me, Ash. And I was going to take it. I wasn’t going to run away or complain. Because I understand how important these alliances are to our people. I know my duty as a princess of Aursailles.”

Her words pummel me into silence. I stare, open-mouthed. Beneath my shock, rage simmers. Roland was going to give Stella towhom? Even more terrifying is that I know she’s telling the truth. Shewouldhave endured it. She would have endured it at his hand, and she would have endured it at mine.

I never liked Roland. Not for a second. But right now?

Ihatehim.

“And then you entered that chamber, and you weregoodto me. You listened to me. Comforted me. Cared for me. You wanted to know what I was thinking. Do you know when a man has ever cared about my thoughts? Or anyone, for that matter, except my youngest sister? Don’t you understand that Itrustedyou? Did you see me hesitate to walk into that forest with you? No, because I trusted you. Because, for once in my life, I felt like I was something of value. And then you act like I’m somebrainless prize to tout around your people? With no respect for my dignity?”

So it’s not just fear. It’s humiliation. I remain in silence, waiting and watching for her to continue.

But she doesn’t. She stops herself, flushing, and angrily swipes a piece of hair behind her ears.She’s embarrassed by her outburst.Has she ever been this forthright in her entire life?

There are many things I ought to be feeling right now. Shame, chagrin, perhaps a little defensiveness for the things she doesn’t understand about my people, about the situation at hand. Still, the foolish part of me cannot help but admire this burst of passion.

I knew that passion simmered beneath her delicately demure façade. A strange sense of honor radiates through me that I am one of the few people—possibly even the only person—to have witnessed Stella being herself.

Why do I feel so proud of her for standing up to me? I know I scare her. I don’twantto, but we’re so different, she and I.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

She blinks at me, as if hesitantly relieved.

“You’re right. I should have trusted you enough to tell you. I am not used to entrusting my plans to people. When you live as the son of one of the wickedest High Kings in history, you learn not to trust anyone. I’ve been betrayed more times than I can count, and I have paidsteepprices every time.”

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