Page 2 of The Cursed Crown

Even as a child she’d been quite taken with his stunning amethyst eyes, so intense they seemed to peel her skin away, to get at the very core of her being. He unmade her, unwrapping all her secrets.

Rydekar wore no steel, just layers of dark clothes cut from fabric that looked both easy to move in and soft as silk. She would have given much for a yard or two of it. Sensible as it was, the clothing didn’t quite seem appropriate for him. He should have been in armor or in intricate clothes stitched with gold. Something felt wrong. What was he doing here at all?

Rissashouldflee. She would. Any moment. One step, then the next. She knew the woods more than him. She could hide or outrun him.

She’d been mistaken to assume her pursuers were gentry from her father’s kingdom, or anywhere else in the realm of Denarhelm. The hunters weren’t relatives eager to get her out of the way so that they might rise higher in the line of succession, if her father never returned.

If they were led byhim, they came from the south. From theunseelieworld. They were dark fae, known to live in chaos, kneeling to nothing but power.Hispower. For Rydekar now bore a sharp crown of black crystal blades.

He wore it like he’d been born to it, which he had. Like Rissa, Rydekar was one of the few heirs of the high queen Mab. Unlike her, he looked the part.

His gleaming hair fell in waves, coating his tanned skin in a golden halo. His eyes shone as they scanned the darkness, seeing through flesh. In the distance, enveloped in the shadow of the woods, she should have felt safe. Invisible.

She didn’t.

The unseelie king in the south had come for her, and she’d been too foolish to flee when she had a chance.

The bright amethysts were set on her.

He stilled for a moment, and turned to observe the rest of the meadow.

She could have breathed out in relief, if she’d dared brave a noise.

“Are we to play a game?” His voice was soft, like a caress, if caresses could be cold and menacing. “You hide, and I seek. I expect a prize when I catch you.”

When, not if. He didn’t doubt that he’d best her. Rissa wondered if that man had ever lost against anyone.

He dismounted a great warhorse, of a black so smooth and incandescent she wanted to run her hand over its mane. To her surprise, Rydekar then removed his crown, then tossed it casually to one of the bare-chested warriors. The poor soul practically fell off his horse to catch it midair.

“What will it be, cousin?”

It was all she could do not to snort. They were hardly cousins. Rissa’s father was the son of Mab and of the shy Alder King, who’d left the continent thousands of years ago.

Rydekar came from another line, issued of Mab’s dalliances with Ovleron, long after her first mate was gone. Rissa could remember a great tapestry adorned with the family tree following that line. It covered a dozen generations, over the course of a thousand years, ending with Nyx Lilwreath, the first unseelie high queen. The Court of Sunlight had little interest in recording the rest of the family, once they’d stayed beyond the southern borders.

Rydekar was one of Nyx’s descendants, born another thousand years after her. He had more blood in common with humans and pucks than he did with her.

She remained silent and still as another breeze brushed her face. The wind carried an autumn leaf through the meadow. She could have groaned.

Rydekar didn’t turn back to her, though the air no doubt carried her scent.

Rissa grinned. She often expected others to share the most natural of her abilities, but unlike her, they weren’t beasts. She would have immediately found him, susceptible as she was to smells.

One of the warriors inched forward, but the high king lifted a long, imperious hand, wordlessly commanding him. Though he looked quite put out, the man remained in his position, his horse’s hooves tapping the ground impatiently.

Its rider was no less impatient. Rissa guessed he wasn’t used to being left behind. The warrior was dark of hair and as tanned as his king. They must spend a fair amount of time in the sun. And like Rydekar, he was of a consequential build. His impressive amount of defined muscles was covered in intricate markings that would have impressed Rissa, if she were one to be intimidated by raw strength.

She’d seen great men piss themselves in terror, though none had been quite as colossal as that giant.

The second warrior, still and silent at his side, had skin so white it looked bluish in the light of the moon, and while he bore markings too, they were of a different make than those she was familiar with. His short coral hair and moss-green eyes made for a striking picture. Almost as tall as his king, he was considerably leaner, and held a bow across a shoulder, as well as a sword. This man was the picture of a fairy prince. Polished, thin-limbed, high-cheeked, and calculating. Instincts told her that she didn’t want to ever be on the other side of one of his arrows. The giant, she could handle. The princeling felt too cold.

The other knights were cut from the same cloth, their heavy helms hiding their features. She didn’t doubt they were proficient enough, as they walked with their king, but they weren’t anything she hadn’t faced before.

Overall, she was outnumbered, and to her irritation, outmatched too. Rissa wet her dry lips, considering.

“I can’t quite remember how the game is played. I’m supposed to count, aren’t I? When I get to ten, I will find you.”

A promise sharper than the edge of her knife.

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