Page 23 of The Prince from a Cruel Summer
“‘Work hard, and when you’re done, work harder,’ is my father’s mantra. It’s a tiring way of life, but I’m here, so it obviously amounted to something.”
“My father’s mantra is: ‘Reflect your light upon me, or die trying.’”
“Wow. He sounds like a prince.”
His brows knit together. “You have no idea.”
We watch the waves crash onto the beach, the restless ocean as unfamiliar as the warm breeze blowing at my back. Wintermere does have a connection to the sea, but the coast is prone to freezing arctic winds and ice that span for miles and miles before reaching open water.
No wonder we don’t swim.
I catch Elio’s gaze. “The life of a reaper must be pretty lonely in the end. Everyone curses them for their work. They don’t get to have partners or kids. Aside from their obvious duties, they’re not meant to be seen by the living. So I’m really glad I get to come here instead.”
He nods thoughtfully. “Becoming a reaper does sound pretty lonely.”
“Hey, Elio! Come here! There are some girls you have to meet!” Ezra suddenly accosts us, his swim trunks still dripping with seawater. “They want to go cliff diving with us.” He offers his brother a hand to stand up, but Elio leaves him hanging, so Ezra turns to me. “We do look alike, right?”
“Err—kind of?”
Ezra’s hair is slightly longer, the coastal wind and leftover salt water giving it quite a bit of texture and volume. Elio’s still growing, with less muscle as his body figures itself out. The slightly skewed proportions aren’t quite as flattering as Ezra’s perfectly balanced physique, but with those abs, the glow-in-the-dark hair, and those ice-blue eyes…
It’s a good thing I already have a fiancé. And a secret.
Two girls who look exactly the same wave mischievously at Elio behind his brother’s back. Elio shakes his head, his feet digging into the smooth sand for traction. “I’m not interested in whatever twin-cest thing you have going on, Ezra.”
“Oh, come on, kid! They said they wouldn’t go if it was just me.”
“You know what? I think you should go,” I declare.
Elio glares at me like I’ve grown a horntail and stabbed him in the back with it. “What?” he chokes.
“Yeah. I think it's a fine idea.” I discreetly point at Iris in the space between us, and his eyes follow my movement.
My catty roommate is watching the exchange intently.
Ezra crouches behind me on the blanket and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “I was right about you, moth. You’re cool.”
The wickedly handsome Fae’s lure is much easier to deal with in his drunkard iteration, and I grin as I pat his arm in a soothing fashion. “Why, thank you.”
He climbs back to his feet, the movement effortless and graceful, and arches a brow at his brother. “Lady Snow has spoken. Shall we?”
“I don’t want to have a foursome with Ezra. Under no circumstances. Ever,” Elio clips under his breath, still glaring at me.
“Then don’t. Iris is watching. Just go cliff-diving with them, and she’ll spend the rest of the night biting her tongue.”
“I—” Elio stretches his neck to look at the twins. “You think?”
“Elio, come on. She totally humiliated you, and now, she’ll be the one left in the lurch.”
A sigh whistles out of his clenched jaw. “Oh, alright.”
Ezra points to me with drunken emphasis. “You’re my hero, Lady Snow. I owe you. Big time.”
I wave them off, watching the foursome head up the grassy path at the back of the cove, a smile tugging at my lips. Now left to my own devices, I visit the buffet and munch on some verdant chips and salsa.
Hum. Yum.
Summer certainly has a spicier, more varied cuisine. I bet all the royals get to enjoy their choice of fruits and vegetables year-round, while in Tundra, the common Fae mostly subsist on root vegetables and potatoes alongside their meats. Sure, I’ve tasted a couple of blood oranges from the Red Forest each year, and I’ve licked my share of salt rose caramel pudding from the royal cook’s spoons when I visited my father at the castle. Lucy was always delighted to see my eyes sparkle at the taste of her batter.
