Page 46 of The Shadow Fae Rhapsody
I force my heartbeat to slow and peer into the room through the stacked slits lined on the door.
The fae reenters the room stark naked, toweling his face instead of covering his private parts.
Why would he do that—well, I can’t fault him. This is his house and he thinks he’s alone in the room. I’m the pervert in this case.
The Aeonian’s cheap imitation of him pales significantly. The Shadow Fae is muscular and lean built, with tanned skin kissed by tattoos. I haven’t gotten the chance to see his face yet.
My heart sputters when he suddenly walks to the wardrobe. Of course he will open this thing first after a bath to look for clothes. I’m an idiot for choosing to hide in here. They should write that on my tombstone. A dumb, pathetic fool.
He halts when three giant shadow cats enter the room. I keep myself still, afraid to even breathe too loudly.
One lynx purrs, communicating with him the way Ken would speak to Svenn.
“I know Finn’s here,” he says to his shadow cat. “Leave the balcony door open for him to come in.”
His voice is strangely lovely, deep and soothing. I’ve never heard anything quite like it. I hear the rustling of clothes as he steps into his tunic and pants.
Thank the gods.I promise I will increase my donations to the temple. I will also pay my penance to the temple of Astraea for accidentally looking at the private parts of a male other than my husband’s.
Shadow and steel become one as he dons the set pieces on the table until every inch of his skin is covered in the sleek ebony armor. I shift my position to catch a look at his face in the mirror, but my view is limited and it’s too little too late for that. The fierce wyvern carving on the helm and plates only adds to the intimidating effect of his presence.
A well-groomed male enters the room from the balcony window, tall and broad shouldered. He is dressed in an elegant gray jacket embroidered with obsidian thread. His jet-black hair is styled back, highlighting his high cheekbones.
This is him…
Prince Finnbheara, the Fae Prince of Avalon.
He’s merely standing there near the window, yet his regal presence is devouring the air and space in the room.
“A fourth visit in a month. To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?” the Shadow Fae greets his prince. There is a musical lilt to his voice, even as he is speaking casually.
“Same reason I did last week, Lan. Sanguisyl is convinced that his Destined has arrived,” Finnbheara replies smoothly, taking off his riding gloves.
The Shadow Fae inclines his head. “Surely you have better things to do than help your lizard look for his mate.”
Once again, I’m struck by the lilt in his beautiful voice.
Finnbheara ignores the comment and settles on the empty seat at the coffee table. “How was your hunt, Landon?”
“Killed all three of them before dawn,” the Shadow Fae replies in a dull tone, leaning against the glass balcony door to look at the red wyvern. “He’s not showing any signs like he wants to court any of the mares. I think your wyvern is sterile.”
The Fae Prince nudges his brows together. “Sanguisyl is not sterile. He’s picky. Kind of like you. You still haven’t found your mate, have you?”
Landon’s posture shifts at the remark, taking it in strides. “Maybe I don’t want to end up like you. Captured a human bride only for her to be a half-elf.”
Finnbheara elevates his gaze to the Shadow Fae, his eyes loaded like a crossbow. “I’d choose my next words carefully if I were you, brother.”
“Tell me, Finn. Why her? Did you do it to spite your father?” the Shadow Fae asks with an added barb. “Do you even love her?”
The look the Fae Prince gives him is downright lethal. I’m almost afraid I’m about to watch two fae killing one another.
“I do love her…” Finnbheara trails off, his jaw hardening. “But her kind is everything I am sworn to deny. They are impure, unclean, and therefore must be purged from this earth.”
The quiet menace and pure hatred in the Fae Prince make me go still.
“Then rejoice, sweet prince. The stars have aligned. Your father has gathered all his Masters of the Hunt,” the Shadow Fae says in a voice of pure delight. “And He named me His Herald.”
Fae Prince smiles, the laugh lines around his eyes crinkling. It’s a pure and sincere smile, the kind one gives after looking at their baby for the first time. “Then this calls for a celebration, brother.”
