Page 106 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. It strikes me then, just how much I assume about the fae—that they are cruel to their core—when here is a brother giving up a chance at freedom for the sake of a sister who is too good for the world she was born into. I have seen many, many wicked fae. But maybe some of them aren’t. Maybe some of them are just trapped in a life they cannot hope to escape.

“It is the reality of Faerieland, I’m afraid.” Rahk places his pieces. I didn’t even pay attention to where I moved mine. “You get used to it. Pavi is not the only thing that calls me back. I have a friend who is like a brother to me. I would miss him greatly if I didn’t return. Then there is my throne to consider.”

I snort.

“What?” he demands, his gaze finding mine in genuine confusion.

I shrug. “You said it so casually.Oh yes—the throne, too!”

His mouth tips very slightly. “I do not think of it often. It will be centuries before I ascend. I have plenty of time until then to lose all sense of morality and become a jaded tyrant.”

He says it as though he jests, but the Rahk before me has, for whatever reason, decided not to mask his expressions for me. It makes me want to comfort him somehow, with words or touch. As Nat, however, I have little I can offer—a fact that burns me with frustration.

“I don’t think you should worry about that,” I say.

He lifts one brow, a slight brightness coming into his expression. He expects me to say something ridiculous, doesn’t he? Something that will amuse him.

“I think you should only be concerned if several millennia go by before you get your throne. A few centuries won’t do much.”

His smile spreads. I’ve succeeded in cheering him up. “Do you speak this from experience?”

“Have I not told you I am twenty thousand years old?” I reply. “I have seen many kingdoms rise and fall. I also saw the invention of the pocket watch. No one was on time before that.”

He doesn’t laugh, which is good, since my comments didn’t deserve one. Instead, he smiles at me. That smile pins me to the spot and makes me forget every thought in my mind. It is soft and liquid, warm and sweet, and what I want in that moment is the chance to be closer to him.

“I am glad you came to work for me,” Rahk rumbles quietly. “You do my soul good.”

His words bring a flush climbing up my neck to my cheeks. I cannot handle the intensity of his attention, so I shift away again to a question I’ve been needing an answer to. Clearing my throat, I drag my Fool’s Circle book closer and flip it open after I take my turn. “Master? May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.” He peers around the board to watch me page through the book.

I find the page, turn the book around, and push it toward Rahk. I point at the page. “What is the Star City?”

He reads the section I pointed at. “I didn’t know this book was recent enough to have a mention of the Star City. It is a city separate from the Courts, which is very unusual in Faerie. I do not know how long it will remain independent.”

“Have you seen it?” I press. “What does it look like? Is it full of stars like the name suggests?”

“I have seen it. Recently, in fact. It is not named for an abundance of stars unique to the place, but for the tall spires that reach toward them. It is a beautiful city.”

Tall spires.

That is what I need for my raid. I smile and drag my book back. “It sounds beautiful.”

Rahk nods as he places his piece in the final spot surrounding the Fool, claiming his win.

“One of these days, I will beat you within an inch of your life.” I vow.

He grins at me.

Thenextmorning,Rahkis gone early and does not return until after sunup. It’s not aguaranteethat he was trying to track me down, but I cannot imagine what else he could have been doing. If my life was not on the line, I might be smug about his unsuccessful trip.

He strides inside, his hair wild, a twig sticking out above his pointed ear. I serve him his breakfast in his room as usual. His breakfast tray grows heavier each day as Charity tries to calibrate her serving proportions to his appetite. Every time, I return the tray empty, and every time she throws up her hands and vows that the next time, she will finally serve him too much food.

“You’ve been trying not to smirk at me this entire meal,” Rahk says mildly as I clear his empty tray. “To what do I owe this honor?”

That twig sticks out of his hair, one remaining leaf stuck to it like a flag. “I am not smirking at you, my lord,” I lie outright for the fun of it.

He tilts his head to one side. Then he gets up and marches to the mirror. “Ah, you mock my organic decorations.”

---