Page 107 of The Prince from a Cruel Summer
Freya fans herself in response. “Don’t be ridiculous. The others wouldn’t support me if I didn’t marry.”
“I can’t stand the thought of you with someone else.”
“Oberon never bothered you.”
“Oberon is old and dying. Ferdinand will expect you to bear him more children. If you can’t get the others to back you without a husband, then leave your crown to the girl, and come to Storm’s End with me.”
The Spring Queen and the Storm King are lovers—yet another couple thwarted by politics, by the sound of it. Aidan’s hands are solid and warm on my hips, and I rest my head on his chest.
“I could never bejustyour mistress, Thor. That’s out of the question.”
They walk past us and disappear beyond the hedges. We wait for a minute before moving or talking, and I revel in the feel of Aidan’s solid frame at my back, my lids fluttering.
“Sounds like Freya plans to marry Zeke’s father,” he finally says, enlacing our fingers once more.
“Why did they come here?”
“For the same reason we did, I expect, though I can’t understand how they would know about this place. It’s a family secret.” He uses his magic to clear a way out of our hiding nook, and we rejoin the main trail. “We can’t head back until we’re sure they’ve gone, so I might as well show you why we came.”
The small entrance to the cylindrical tunnel is freckled with polished glass, embedded seamlessly into the ancient stones. It looks as though the passage was carved by molten lava, its edges smooth and gleaming with an unnatural sheen. The stones catch and reflect the moonlight, sending faint ripples of silver along the tube. Aidan lets a spark of his fire flicker to life in his hand, illuminating the way ahead. The light dances along the glass, casting flickering shadows and bursts of amber in its wake.
My blood pounds at my temples as we reach the end of the tunnel. Aidan pushes open a heavy stone door, the muscles in his shoulders and arms bunching with the effort.
“We’re in—” I gasp.
“The throne room.”
The Eternal Chalice sits right there, perched on a mound of black ashes. The cup—from which every Fae monarch has drunk—is shaped like an hourglass, the top ready to receive the blood of others so a new king can be anointed and access the magic of his lands. It was forged as a failsafe against the dangerous whims of the divine. But, as Devi described, the chalice also allows Fae Kings to circumvent the will of the gods—an instrument that makes them able to name a king of their choosing, one who doesn’t bear the Mark of the Gods.
Its presence is both a symbol of power and a shadow of defiance. The air around it is thick with centuries of history, and a subtle hum of magic pulses from the powdery coals beneath it. It’s a temptation, a promise of freedom from the gods' unyielding influence. And in this room, where the fate of the Fae hangs in the balance, it feels both like a gift and a curse.
My fingers tingle as I reach to touch it. The black metal from which it’s been forged glows opalescent under the flickering light of Aidan’s fire.
“The chalice balances the powers of the gods and keeps the current of our magics steady.”
I press my lips together. “It’s also an instrument that favors the most shrewd politicians.”
“That, too.”
I extend my hand to touch the rim but pull back at the last second, weary of yearning for something that will never be mine. I already crave Aidan in spite of my best judgment—there’s no need to add a crown to the list.
“There will never be a throne for me, Aidan,” I say softly.
He stands tall in front of me. “I would give it up, you know? The throne, the amber crown, and even the power that comes with it.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I would rather not have to, but I would. You are worth more to me.”
“I’m not worthanything.” I slip back behind the tapestry, beyond the hidden door, and head down the tunnel on my own. Aidan doesn’t bother to close the door behind him and runs after me in the shifting sand.
He clasps my hand and forces me to a standstill, and I turn to face him, my ragged breath and unshed tears blurring my senses.
“Everything that happened tonight only reaffirmed my desire not to marry for duty.” He caresses my knuckles with his thumb, his movements gentle despite how breathless we both are. “Let meloveyou, Songbird. I’d be pretty good at it. Break it off with Zeke. Break it off and be with me instead.”
I shake my head, terrified of being swept away by the same madness. “If I end it, I won’t be able to afford next year’s tuition. I’ll be forced to train as a reaper, and my father will be heartbroken.”
“If your father wants you to be engaged to a prince, then so be it.” Aidan gets on one knee and gathers a fistful of sand in his grip, and my heart implodes from the sight alone.
