Prince of Then: A Fae Romance (Black Blood Fae Book 4)

Gade

“So, you chose not to heed my warning.” I glower at Holly as I slide into the seat beside her at the far end of the high table.

Perhaps in protest of the mortal’s presence, tonight, three members of my council dined with courtiers on the tables set around the edges of the Great Hall, and others have joined the post-dinner dancing, leaving the dais presently rather empty.

Except for the mortal and me.

“What warning?” she asks, glaring back at me as if I don’t have the right to sit next to her at my own table in my own hall. “If you gave me one, Gade, I don’t remember it.”

That’s an outright lie. Anger heats my blood, but I suppress it, telling myself it is typical for a human to shun the truth to avoid discomfort. And I cannot blame her. If I had the skill, I would employ it regularly.

“You’re late,” I say, filling Mern’s empty cup with wine, then swirling the ruby liquid around the sides. “And you missed dinner.”

“No, I didn’t.” She takes several hearty gulps from her goblet and points to a bowl in front of her. “As you can see, I arrived in time for dessert. And since you seem fixed on monitoring my every thought and movement, yes, I enjoyed every mouthful.”

“If the scent of your blood is any indication, you also enjoyed a large quantity of mulberry wine.”

She huffs, pours more wine, then visibly startles, thudding her goblet against the gilded table. “You can no more smell my blood than I can read your thoughts.”

“Your blood near enough tells me your thoughts.” I run my nose along her neck and inhale deeply. “And tonight, both are rather mouthwatering.”

Frowning, she shifts sideways in an attempt to put distance between us, proving she knows little of faeries or fae princes. We are not so easily deterred. If I wish to be close to her, then close to her I will be.

She fixes her gaze on the crowd of writhing fae below us, mesmerized by their slick wings and sharp talons slicing flesh and air as they dance to the chaotic beat of fiddles and drums.

“At least fae don’t drink blood,” she states in a wavering voice.

“Some do. Steer clear of the fae who bear fangs and cry blood instead of tears. Personally, I prefer wine.” I flash my sharp incisors in a grin. “However, it is never too late to experiment with new pleasures.” My teeth aren’t exactly fangs, but close enough to make her skin turn the color of fresh milk.

Tapping my nails against the arm of my chair, I slouch back and survey the revel below, wondering how it appears through her eyes, a young mortal in a strange land who is as uncertain of her fate as I am—the fae who happens to be master of it.

Tonight, the Great Hall is on fire. Restless flames burn from one thousand and twenty-three sconces lining the black stone walls, the six hundred and thirty-three candelabras hanging from the vaulted ceiling, and three hundred and ninety-three fire pits bordering the edges of the dance floor.

Four mages stand as sentinels in the corners of the hall. The High Mage, Ether, who’s usually by my side, is in Aer’s position because I banished her to the forest and banned her from attending revels.

Since my return, Aer has become more unstable, and I don’t trust her to leave the mortal in peace. And Holly is already in enough danger at Talamh Cúig—mostly from me.

With her careless speech, over and again she has made herself my possession and unknowingly released me from my vow to send her home.

Her expressions of thanks, her gratitude, have made her my property to do with as I will.

Forever, if I so desire it…

She is mine, and no one has the right to touch her—not my courtiers, the wild fae, Aer, or even her benevolent sisters.

No one but me.

Releasing a sigh, I soak in the mood of the revel, at once dark and light, lush and decadent, and as with all Faery celebrations, both joy and danger flavor the air simultaneously. Should I allow it, the crowd could turn on the beat of a wing against the vulnerable human healer who calls herself Holly.

To my mind, it’s a rather peculiar name for a mortal. Brimming with magical meaning, it feels more fae than not. I roll the sound of it around my mind, taste its texture on my tongue.

Holly light.

Holly green.

Holly Cure All ever mine.

How does she feel, surrounded by fangs, feathers, and the fiendish natures of creatures who have lived in mortals’ nightmares since the beginning of time?

I allow my gaze to trail over the gemstones glittering in her coiled hair, the colors matching my ceremonial crown, the eagle feathers and crystal wands that spike from the ruff around my collar and shoulder guards.

Of course, as Talamh Cúig’s ruler, my clothing is more elaborate in splendor and detail than any other fae present. As it ought to be, since I am the future king of the Bright Court.

I cannot help wondering what the mortal thinks of me dressed in such finery.

Brushing my lips against the soft shell of her rounded ear, I murmur, “How do you plan to apologize for disobeying me?”

She laughs. “I don’t plan on it at all.”

“Well…” I take a sip of wine. “We’ll see about that.”

“Will you make me apologize?”

“Contrary to your narrow view of us, violence isn’t the foremost thought on all faeries’ minds. Certainly not mine. Instead of murdering you, I propose we strike another bargain, Holly of Donore.”

“Why, so you’ll have another one to break?”

I shrug. “Any vow I make is forged in flames and set in stone, ice, and sky. You want to know your fate at my court, and I want to punish you for your defiance, but without causing you lasting harm. Our problem is unique, but not unsolvable.”

The glow in her yellow eyes indicates the idea excites her, but her trembling smile says she mistrusts my motives.

Smart mortal.

“I’m curious to hear your terms and to know if your councilors will let you stick to your original bargain and let me leave. What do you want in exchange for information that should already be freely mine?”

“It shouldn’t. You bargained to be allowed to leave, not to be informed of my councilors’ opinions about when and how you do so.”

Her lips compress. “Just tell me what you want, then?”

“A dance of my choosing.” I lick a drop of wine from my lips. “With you.”

A sugared biscuit freezes halfway toward her belligerent, bewitching mouth. “What?” Then she throws the sweet in her dessert bowl. “Fine, I accept your ridiculous terms. I gave up trying to make sense of your fickle ways several days ago.”

The wine has loosened her tongue and made her reckless. She has foolishly agreed to the terms without request for clarification.

The many ways I could abuse her trust swirl through my mind, heating my poisoned blood. My withered heart aches to ignore what’s left of my better nature, to possess her tonight and every night until I overdose on her cries of ecstasy.

My startling thoughts confuse me into smiling at her. And for a moment, I am lost. Unsure of my purpose. My direction. And wondering why, instead of trysting with the pixie twins who knocked on my door last night, I tossed and turned alone, reliving my time with the mortal in the shepherd’s hut.

As disgusting as the truth may be, since I’ve returned home, she is all I can think of.

A frown furrows her brow, and her rosy lips part. “Gade?”

“Yes?”

“Your hand is on fire.”

“What?” I look down.

Sparks shoot from the six-pointed star glyph on the back of my right hand, tiny flames rippling along its outline. I cover it with an empty plate and will the magic into submission. Even thinking about touching the human flares my power.

“Are you all right?” she asks.

“I’m fine.” The pain of a part-lie stabs my temples. I fight a grimace and rub the black diamond nestled in the tip of my ear. “So, are the terms of our agreement as spoken acceptable to you?”

“Yes. Let’s get the dance over with as soon as possible.”

“Now?” I ask foolishly.

“Right away… Unless you’re afraid I might be a better dancer than you.”

“I believe I am only afraid of one thing, mortal, and it’s certainly not your dance skills.”

Thankfully, she doesn’t ask what trembles the marrow in my bones and keeps me up at night. Neither of us would benefit from hearing the reason spoken out loud.

Her brows rise. “Tell me what your council decided.”

I take another slow sip of wine and feel her impatience bristle against my skin. “Regarding your return home, my council agreed to put your fate in my hands.”

“Including your uncle and Lord Serain? What did they advise?”

I consider her question. Specifics were not part of our bargain. She asked what the council decided about her going home—that is all. Why is she concerned about my advisers?

Since the death of my parents, my uncle has been a constant supportive presence in my life. I trust him without question. And Serain’s loyalty is as steadfast and enduring as the tides.

“My uncle urged me to do as I see fit, and Serain knows I will always do what is best for my kingdom.”

“And what did you decide?”

“I will keep you close over the next six days—”

“Five.”

I smile slowly. “And if no person or event prevents it, I will likely have to adhere to the terms of our first bargain.”

Joy lights her face as dread spikes in my blood.

“I should point out that wasn’t our first bargain,” she says. “And we’ve made many since. For example, when you were wounded, you promised not to kill me in exchange for my assistance.”

“You are right. Others were over small matters, but still, they were bargains.”

“So you’ll help me return home?”

I bow my head to indicate agreement, but say nothing. Foolishly, she accepts the gesture, affording it equal weight to words that are spoken aloud. In Faery, this is a fatal mistake.

“Thank you, Gade. I am in your debt.”

Worse and worse—the human is too innocent for this realm of cunning tricks and glamors. At her reckless acceptance, saliva fills my mouth.

I cannot believe how little care she takes with her speech, the liberties she gives me without a single thought. If she keeps it up, before long, something terrible will befall her. When it does, I only hope she’ll let me save her.

“Indeed,” I say, rising and offering her my hand. “You are mine, little human, to do with as I wish. And for now, I want to dance with you.”

Unsteadily, she stands and places her hand in mine. “Two things: I’m not that small, and I’m not yours and never will be.”

“To be precise, that’s three things. But unless my hearing fails me, you just claimed to be in my debt—out loud.” Before she can ask what that means, I change the subject, inspecting her clothing from her head to her glitter-painted toenails. “Mern chose well.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your dress of gold, the gemstones sewn through your hair… all of it suits you well. You look…” I grit my teeth to stem the flow of compliments that strain against my lips.

In truth, I can hardly believe how fair she looks this eve—more than human, less than fae, but something in between. Luminous. And better.

Better than what? I ask myself.

Than everything, whispers the curse. This girl is everything you secretively want and all you need, and yet you refuse to see it.

“Yes, Gade? How do I look?” she prompts.

“Better.”

My hand tightens around her fragile bones as I lead her down the stairs to the marble floor. I release a slow breath and force my grip to soften. I’m furious, but I don’t want to hurt her.

The curse is deceitful and tries to sway me from my true course by tempting me with a human. But it will fail. For years, I have known my fate… to be joined with a stranger of Aer’s choosing for the sake of my kingdom. For me, there can be no other path, but that doesn’t mean I relish it. Or can’t enjoy a dance with a baffling, but enchanting, mortal.

Shining disks of gold cover Holly’s sleeveless gown, the long train chiming as she moves, mocking me like laughter. When we reach the dance floor, she holds her hands out, waiting for me to take her into my arms.

The drums and fiddles reach a frantic pace as dancers move around us. Translucent wings and long, gnarled limbs blur past, my courtiers’ lust thickening the air and making breathing difficult.

I click my fingers, and the music shifts to a more soothing tempo.

“Not here,” I say as I snatch up her hand, towing her through the sea of fae, then the arched doorway that leads onto the patio that runs the length of the Great Hall.

As the crisp sea breeze assaults me, I inhale deeply and spin her along the balcony away from prying eyes. Where it is quiet. Where we are alone.

The noise of the revel seems muted and distant. No drums. No fiddles. No raucous singing. But what need is there for music when we have the rhythm of our wild heartbeats, the crash of waves, and the applause of the stars above?

There is nothing else I want.

As long as I have her.

She laughs as we move in an elaborate pattern across the slate floor. Harnessing all the air magic I can muster, I turn us faster and faster until a deep flush paints her cheeks, and her blood flows in sync with mine.

Then I notice the glaze of her pupils, the coolness of her fingers, and turn in ever-slower circles, bringing us to a halt.

“You are unwell,” I say.

“Absolutely not. I’m fine.”

Her words are slurred, her feet unsteady, and in two breaths, I realize the problem. Faery wine has a potent influence on humans, and nobody has warned her to take care and drink less than she would in the human world.

“Don’t imbibe any more mulberry wine tonight. Your constitution is too weak for it.”

Anger sparks in her eyes. “If you hope to rule a kingdom successfully, I suggest you learn the skills of diplomacy. For a prince, you’re far too rude to visitors.”

“And for a guest, you’re very objectionable. Can you not just accept friendly advice gracefully?”

“If it is given with grace, of course I can. But that wasn’t, and I very much doubt you’re trying to be friendly. And while I’m listing your faults, there is another that bears mentioning; you, sir, do not like to be challenged.”

“On the contrary. I greatly enjoy a challenge.” Especially from a girl with fire in her gaze. “Opposition on the battlefield and in my bed chambers is invigorating, but I admit not always so welcome from my courtiers.”

Holly nods sagely. “Do you enjoy living like this?”

Appearing mesmerized, she glides near the entrance to the hall and sweeps her hand at the dais and the dancing fae visible through the archway. She takes another step closer to the doorway.

I turn her to face the opposite direction, moving toward the balustrade, hoping to keep her out here with me longer. “You were saying,” I prompt.

“Oh, yes. I was saying that you live your life on a pedestal before your court, worshiped and never disagreed with. Being born fae royalty must be an odd way to grow up, and what I’d like to know is this… Do you love it above all else, being treated like a god?”

“If I were insane and irrevocably infatuated with myself, certainly I would be thrilled with it. But as yet, I’m not either of those things. What is your point? You wish to tell me I’m vain and arrogant?”

“Well… you are fae. From what I’ve seen so far, the stories about your kind are true—you’re all fickle and conceited.”

“Do you judge Mern, who calls herself your friend, so harshly? What about Elden?”

“No. They’re different.”

“Then your assumption is wrong. Faeries are not all the same. And you don’t yet know me well enough to assess my true character.”

“What I know so far has led me not to trust you. But your answer to my next question will help me form a more accurate opinion. Since your advisers have placed my fate in your hands, will you swear to do as you promised and let me go?”

“Go where?”

“Don’t pretend to be dense. Home.”

“Well, I’ve already answered this question tonight.”

“And if I recall correctly, you used the word likely instead of definitely.”

I release a loud sigh. “Because you’re disagreeable and argumentative, I should want you gone as soon as possible.”

“That’s not an answer.” She swipes hair from her face and stumbles, clutching the stone balustrade for balance. Clearly as drunk as a leprechaun, she laughs and pushes my chest. “Oh, Gade. Gade. Gade.”

My brow rises. “Yes?”

“What would you do if I said that instead of returning home in a few days, I’d prefer to gaze upon your horribly handsome face a little longer?”

“What?” At her shocking words, blood rushes through my veins, roaring in my ears. Has she lost her mind? What about her ailing mother, who she professes to be eager to return to?

I clear my throat. “You mean, out here, tonight?”

“No. I mean if I wanted to stay in Talamh Cúig for longer than the seven days of our bargain.”

“Since this is my castle, my kingdom, if I said I wished you to leave, then leave you must.”

Her eyes narrow. “So, you’d like me to leave sooner rather than later?”

A rough sound comes from my throat. I dare not speak. I cannot give a true answer that will please either of us, so I simply stare back, wondering what to say to divert her from this dangerous game she’s playing.

Several topics cross my mind. Human courtship rituals? No, too fraught with double meaning. The weather? Far too boring. The artistry of my fine clothing? Certainly not. To her, that would only confirm my conceited nature.

I click my tongue, clasp my hands behind my back, make a strange humming noise, and then say, “Ahhh… how do you like Faery so far?”

Again she laughs, pressing her palm against my chest, this time gently. “About as much as any mortal who fell through a portal into a strange land to be captured by a mythological creature who dragged them unwilling back to his castle would.”

“You dislike it, then?”

“No. I’m rather fond of it.”

I laugh, a strange warmth flooding my chest.

“And you must enjoy my company, Gade,” she says with a teasing smile. “Why else haven’t you agreed to let me leave in five days’ time?”

“Six days,” I say, correcting her error.

“Oh, five, six, pick up sticks,” she says, swatting at me as if I’m a wasp buzzing around her head.

Tonight, she speaks in riddles that befuddle even me—a prince of Faery, master of tricks and ruses.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, worried now that someone has put a spell on her. As I grip her arms, fire rushes through my veins and thunder rattles the sky—the Elements inside me overreacting to the touch of a mere mortal.

“Seven, eight, lay them straight. It’s a children’s rhyme, Gade. Don’t look so worried. I haven’t lost my mind entirely.” She rubs her eyes, then pinches her cheeks. “You’re right. I have drunk too much faery wine. But I still need to know, will you let me leave when I ask to go? Answer me straight.”

I can’t, because the truth is, when it comes to this human, I don’t know what I want, let alone what I’ll do about her.

I’m drawn to this girl like a bee to sweet pollen, and part of me longs to drink her down deeply, and the other, to destroy her and the hold she has over me.

A stray curl of hair tickles her lips. I cross my arms to stop myself from brushing it aside. “Human, you’re an inconvenience. A blight upon my tranquility and peace. And a pest to be dealt with accordingly.”

“Dealt with?” Excitement, instead of fear, blazes in her eyes.

Stupid, stupid girl.

Then she asks, “How do you propose to do that?”