Page 176 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

Then he leaves.

Chapter 56

Rahk

Thenightisthickaround me as I pen a note to Edvear in my study. I try not to feel anything at all except a dull resignation. I did not come to the human lands to marry, much less to fall in love. I knew better the entire time. Princes of Nothril should not form attachments—I’ve always known this. Yet I loved Pavi. I loved Ash.

I loved Kat.

And now, just as I always knew it would, it has become my downfall.

It makes sense that there was something else holding her back. She loved me. Still loves me. It has been so plain across her face when I look at her. It’s there in the small things—the way she cares so much about the length of my life. The tears she tried so hard to swallow.

I’m so relieved I never bonded with her in my people’s way.

When I finish, I fold the letter, seal it with wax, and scrawl my steward’s name on the back. Then I get my swords. Their familiar weight on my back reminds me of what I am. What I have always been. What I should never have been foolish enough to fight.

I leave my study. I crane my ears, listening for even a hint of Kat, but am met with silence. Every few minutes, however, when I turn my head just so, I can catch a whiff of her scent lingering on my clothes, in the air.

I make my way outside. The temptation to turn back, to search for a light in the bedroom window, is almost too strong.Almost.

I stretch out my wings, willing my heart to burn cold.

Then I shoot into the sky without a single backwards glance.

Myglamoursstrugglethecloser I get to the palace. I yank them around me harder. Pain bursts across my scalp, running down my spine. I grit my teeth and refuse to ease up on my magic use. When, at last, the flags flying in the palace turrets become visible in the night, I angle downward, tuck in my wings, and plunge over the walls.

I choose a shadowy rooftop to land. For a moment, I release my glamours. A gasp of relief nearly breaks free of my throat, but I keep it restrained. I keep my wings as close to my body as possible while I brace my boots against the clay tiles. Then I survey the palace complex around me. I note all the places I can see guards, and all the strategic places there might be guards that I cannot see. My glamours are so weak this far from Faerie that I cannot rely too heavily on them.

I do not know exactly where my target is, but it is not difficult to narrow down the possibilities. I consider my path, noting the guards, the sections where I must rely on stealth and the places where glamour is necessary.

Then I move.

My first guess proves right.

When I land silently on a window ledge and peer inside, I see just the evidence I wanted: a nursemaid fallen asleep in a rocking chair beside a closed door. I keep my breath even as I inspect the lock on the window. A small blade is all I need to slide the bolt and ease open the frame.

Though the moon is far from full, it casts my shadow in stark relief on the nursery floor. I slip into the shadows and approach the sleeping nursemaid. She does not stir until I place my hand over her face. Her eyes fly wide, but the words have already spilled out of my lips. She slumps back into the rocking chair as I brace against the slash of pain through my chest.

Young Prince Lionel slumbers soundly in his bed, holding a stuffed lion to his chest.

I place my hand over his face, and he does not stir as I use the same spell to deepen his sleep. Then I lift him into my arms, slip back to the window, and climb onto the sill.

I try to pull my glamours back in place, but after the second use of the sleeping spell, I cannot grab hold of the magic. I curse under my breath and grit my teeth.

But what use is the queen’s trust to me now? Why not forever make an enemy of her? It is not as though I will be staying in Harbright. I have nothing to lose now. My loyalty is to the High King and Queen of Faerieland, and to Nothril. That was all that ever mattered.

So I do not use glamour as I launch into the night, holding the sleeping prince tight to my chest. Nothing shields me from the searching eyes of the guards on the ground and in the towers. I fly as quickly as I can, but the alarm goes up before I leave. I beat my wings as fast as I can and soon, I am beyond the palace.

We don’t have much time now.

The flight to the edge of Caphryl Wood is excruciatingly long. I count the minutes, trying to estimate how far behind the queen’s cavalry will be. Not as far as I would like.

We reach the rise before the dip into the valley at the edge of the Wood. There, I lay the boy on the ground. Ruckus and troll roars echo from below, but I focus on the prince. I place my hand over his face again, this time muttering a wake spell. It flows from me with relief this close to Faerie. The boy’s eyes pop open. He startles immediately, sitting up and scooting backward to get away from me.

“What are you—” He stops, looks around. “Where are we?”

I do not get to my feet, lest he feel small compared to me. Instead, I put more space between us and stay on my knees. Anything to relax him even just a little bit. “We are here at the edge of the Long Lost Wood. You are the true ruler of Harbright, so there is something you must do to protect your people that no one else can do.”

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