Page 56 of Bound to the Fae Assassin

A lick of something like jealousy burned Blackthorn’s chest. His sweet Farrow should not share obligations with this man.

Besides, no matter the quarters, they could not be more opulent than what he could offer her at Swordbrake. If she would have him.

“But… what about the magic I used?” she asked quietly. “It is forbidden.”

“It seems to me that magic was forbidden because of that prophecy,” the prince said thoughtfully. “And it came true after all. The King did end up with a blade to his throat, deservedly so. But that is no reason magic cannot be welcomed back into our realm.”

Farrow smiled, joy radiating from her so obviously that it made Blackthorn smile too.

“When things have calmed down, I’ll have your family escorted up to visit with you,” the prince went on, smiling back at her in a way that made Blackthorn want to punch something.

He let out an annoyed growl and they all turned to him.

“Prince Blackthorn,” Alaric said politely. “Well met.”

“Well met, indeed,” Blackthorn said coolly, glancing over at Farrow.

The prince’s guards stepped closer as one, cudgels at the ready.

“Stand down. I do not think our illustrious guest harbors any ill will toward me,” Alaric said quietly. “Though for now, I suspect he will go back to his people swiftly to tell them what happened here today. As soon as I wear the crown, our families will begin a new accord, if yours agrees, Blackthorn. My father’s reign was spent building a wall. Mine will be spent rebuilding trust. We have a debt to pay.”

Blackthorn stared at him in shock.

“Perhaps we may begin with a feast in the location of your family’s choosing,” Alaric suggested. “We could break bread together and discuss the most expedient way to tear down a wall. I know knocking down a physical wall will not change the barriers built up by cruelties and time, but it feels like a fitting place to begin.”

“Very well,” Blackthorn said, nodding slowly.

He couldn’t help stealing another glance at Farrow.

But her expression was unreadable.

“Come, Miss Barton,” one of the guards said. “We’ll show you to your rooms.”

She curtsied to the prince once more and went with them.

“She’s a remarkable woman,” the prince said to Blackthorn with what sounded like sympathy.

“I will speak with my family,” Blackthorn said curtly.

“Thank you,” the prince said, his voice deep with sincerity.

“You know that means an obligation to my people,” Blackthorn said.

“We are already burdened with a generation of atrocities, it seems,” the prince said, shrugging.

“Very well,” Blackthorn purred. “I am calling in the price of your thanks. You will not touch Farrow Barton. You will not even think of her as a woman again.”

The prince’s eyebrows went up to his hairline.

He looked from the departing Farrow and back to Blackthorn, then he threw back his head and laughed.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he said. “I suppose we’ll soon be having our first bi-cultural wedding since the wall.”

“Try and convince her of that,” Blackthorn huffed as he stalked away.

Chapter 25

Farrow

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