Page 63 of The Prince from a Cruel Summer
Aidan and I could never be together, not in any official capacity, but I would love to know what it feels like to give into the fantasy. To indulge in the maddeningly detailed scenarios that have plagued my dreams, and lose myself to the flames. I’d be free toburn, even if it charred my heart forever. But a fire as bright as Aidan would certainly leave its trace. Zeke would be bound to find out. If I broke it off with him first, Willow would promise to lend me money, but she’s not of age, and I’m sure her father would find a way to prevent her from doing it. Even Elio couldn’t help me without his father’s approval, and from what I understand, Ethan Lightbringer is pretty tight with Aidan’s father.
Nothing has changed. Giving in to my attraction to Aidan will jeopardize my future, but now that the initial fear has dwindled, now that I can’t dismiss his attention for something that’ll blow over in a few days, I’m reeling.
It’s getting harder and harder to say no.
Chapter 20
Dame Snow
SONGBIRD
Itickle the piano keys as I wait for Elio to meet me for our rehearsal session, the absent-minded notes echoing across the white wood panels of the music room. Glossy hardwood floors and a myriad of leather cases and music stands furnish the room, but it’s empty at this hour. Elio’s been teaching me a few easy tunes, but while I have a keen ear for music, my hands are apparently made of five thumbs.
The huge mirror next to the door ripples, and my spine stiffens as two silhouettes stalk out of the sceawere.
“Hey Beth. Sorry I’m late. I lost track of time,” Elio apologizes. He blinks his eyes open, the chill of the sceawere frosted over his cheeks.
He’s barely a minute late, but that’s Elio, and I arch a brow at his masked companion.
Damian and I have never spoken, the Crow too busy glaring at me when we crossed paths for me to work up the courage to introduce myself.
“Hi. I’m Beth.”
Damian’s onyx and broken glass mask enhances his stern, dark looks, and goosebumps riddle my arms as he cocks his head to the side. “I know who you are.”
Elio rummages through the music sheets lying on a nearby table. “Thank you, Damian.”
“I’ll see you next week.” The Shadow Lord spins on his heel and vanishes through the mirror without another word.
I arch a brow at my friend. “Elio Lightbringer. What in the seven hells were you doing withhim?”
If the last few months have taught me anything, it’s that Damian isn’t exactly popular with the Light Fae crowd—and the mistrust goes both ways.
Elio chuckles. “Damian’s not so bad. He offered to tutor me.”
“But you’re a Light Fae from the Sun Court. What could he possibly teach you?”
Elio scratches the back of his neck. “Light and shadows aren’t so different, really. I’ve been… exploring my options.”
My breath hitches. “You have dual magic?”
Dual wielders are proficient in more than one school of magic, but it’s rare for a Fae to wield both light and dark magic.
“Shh. You don’t have to shout.” He slides onto the bench beside me, leaning closer as he spreads his music sheets across the rack. “I’ve actually been practicing with ice. And since there’s no graduate student from Wintermere, Damian is taking me to the new world a few times a week to help me practice. I’m still struggling to summon it out of thin air—it’s a hard feat here in the Summerlands.”
The revelation that Elio’s been keeping his ice magic from me—a magic we share—both thrills and annoys me. I nudge him with my elbow. “Being a dual wielder is not something to be ashamed of. You should be proud?—”
He cuts me off with a quick, almost fearful shake of his head. “My father would go spare. You have to keep it secret.” His lips press into a thin line before he adds, “Promise you won’t tell Ezra. He’d swear to keep it quiet, but it’d still bubble up at the worst possible moment.”
“I promise.” I tickle the ivories again, aware that Elio’s just let me in on a momentous secret. He’s talented, but his Light magic doesn’t hold a candle to Ezra’s. “I know what the rumors say about the Winter King being near death, but Thanatos doesn’t care about pedigree, and he’s never picked a Light Fae. Never.”
Elio disperses my suspicions with a defeated sigh. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of becoming king. Unlike most of the students here, I’m not after a crown. I just want an escape. I know it’s unorthodox, but if I joined the reaper army, I think the life would suit me.”
“You mean to become a reaper? Isn’t that… drastic? There’s no going back from that.” I rise to my feet and draw in a few deep, diaphragmatic breaths, sustaining the exhalations to warm up my voice.
“Drastic sounds heavenly, believe me. If I ever leave the Sun Court, there can be no half-measures.” His tone softens, and his expression twists into that familiar grimace—the one that reminds me his father most likely argues with his fists.
I hum, unwilling to push him further, and we move on with our rehearsal. Willow is adamant that we should close the gala tomorrow.
