Page 2 of The Promise Born
Fire were shifters who produced fire, and Ice were the opposite. Stagnants could not shift and had no power of their own, but they did have a specialgift: they could replicate the power of the rider. If an ice shifter rode a Stagnant, that Stagnant could then breathe the same ice as the rider. The same for the fire.
Royals always rode Stagnants. That never sat right with me.
These were our cousins, our family, and yet they were being treated as nothing more than mules.
I wondered how they felt.
Gone were the days when shifters and stagnant could still communicate with one another. Some say we lost the ability to. But I always thought they just stopped talking to us. Perhaps a sense of betrayal gnawed at them, keeping them from sharing their thoughts with us.
I pulled the scarf tighter around my head as, one by one, the members of the royal visitors appeared. A murmur spread across the crowd as we all waited to get a view of the most important person. Sure, guards and aides were nice to see, but aside from their attire, they did not differ from the people who gathered to see them.
I admired their appearance. They were all dressed in black leathers adorned with red and gold trimming. Simple and clean looks that echoed the taste of the queen. It was something I’d always admired about her: she didn’t subscribe to the gaudy show of wealth often displayed by those in power.
Then it happened. The gasps erupted as he appeared. He stepped down from the shaded seat atop the dragon, his cape swaying around him as he moved. He was tall, with dark brown skin, broad shoulders, and full lips. Long braids hung down around his face, perfectly framing his strong jawline and wide nose.
The prince of Starwell.
Prince Asante was everything I had heard. The villagers’ accounts of the man—his height, his build, his distinctive walk—were finally confirmed by my own observation. With each step, he straightened more, pushing his shoulders back and lifting his chin with pride. The corners of his lips lifted in a soft smile.
And then his eyes scanned the crowd, assessing the faces of the gathered.
While others swooned, I narrowed my gaze. Asante was handsome, but I could sense the air of arrogance under that soft smile. He was still from a royal bloodline after all, which meant he was inherently full of himself.
I waited for one of his aides to make an announcement. Tell us why they had come, but the prince skipped the typical formalities. Instead, flanked by guards and aides, he walked around the crowd and addressed only the elders while simply glancing at the women. He gave each woman an appraising look before moving on to the next.
The old women were right. He was there to find a mate. And the women were actively posing themselves to be seen by him. And not just the available women. One woman I knew to be in a relationship with the local blacksmith. She had no shame as she pushed her breasts up and pursed her lips. Apparently, any man could lose the love of his life if the prince saw it fit.
Disgusted with the display, I turned to leave. I had no intention of being perceived or of being chosen by the prince. Marriage was not an option in my mind, and being anywhere near the royal family was the absolute last thing I wanted.
When I moved to flee, one of the cackling trio tumbled. If I didn’t know better, I could have sworn she did it on purpose. Mesi looked me right in the eye and then her little body jerked toward me. As I lunged to catch her, she flailed her arms like a madwoman and knocked me over. I turned to catch myself, but after clutching for anything to disrupt the fall, I found myself face down on the ground with everyone staring at me. So much for not being seen.
I took several deep breaths to calm myself in the embarrassing moment before trying to get up.
Kneeling, I saw a gloved hand offered to help me up. Without questioning who it belonged to, I accepted the help. What I hadn’t realized was that the long scarf I’d used to hide my face had shifted. The end of it snagged beneath my foot and as I stood, it ripped away. I panicked and tried to grab it but failed. Once again, the hand was there, picking up the discarded scarf to give to me.
“Here you go.” The rich voice spoke as he returned my scarf.
“Thanks-,” I paused as I looked up to see the face of the man I’d hoped to avoid.
“Are you alright?” he peered at me with an expression dripping with concern.
“Yes, thank you.” I snatched my hand away from him as soon as I was on my feet, did a short curtsy, and turned to leave.
I didn’t make it far before I heard him say the words that made my insides boil.
“That one will do.” The prince’s low voice announced.
Those misogynist words described not a thing that could be purchased, but a woman who had every right to deny whatever it was he intended with that statement. I could have continued to walk and ignore it. I could have minded my business. But not this time. Instead, I turned around to find the prince.
He spoke to a short aide who stood next to him. The man was older, with gray whiskers sprouting from his face. He had two golden talons pinned at this chest. The markers of someone the royals deemed important.
While the prince didn’t look at me as he made his remarks, he pointed at me. “She looks good enough to get my mother off my back.”
The aide, eyes sharp and alert, noticed me before the prince.
“Sir,” the aide said, his nose wrinkling in disgust as he eyed the dirt now covering my clothing.
“My mother wants me to marry. I will,” the prince spoke, oblivious to the fact I was staring right at him. “But I will choose who I spend my life with. She won’t force me into being with someone I don’t want.”
