Prince of Then: A Fae Romance (Black Blood Fae Book 4)
Prince of Then: Chapter 21

Holly

The next day, the Prince of Five doesn’t grant me leave to return home. Instead, he tempts me to stay a little longer by promising to personally show me anywhere in the castle and grounds I wish to see, effectively delaying the terms of our bargain by a few days; an offer I couldn’t refuse.

In his most charming guise yet, Gade proudly paraded me past the castle’s astonishing sights and introduced me to kitchen staff, dressmakers, blacksmiths, guards, and grooms, but not once to any members of the nobility—the so-called high fae of his kingdom. And on the tenth day of my visit, I learn the likely reason why.

As I walk along the Seaway path, planning to eat my crisp apple on the cliffs of the tournament oval while watching the merfolk play in the waves, four elegant fae hurtle up the hill toward me.

I recognize them from court dinners—two females with iridescent wings sailing above their golden shoulders and hair that tumbles in a riot of pastel colors to their ankles, and two males with short dark hair, skin as pale as chalk, and ink-black wings of tattered leather.

When they notice me, their smiles turn to sneers as sharp as the intricate cuffs that grace their prettily pointed ears.

The sand that powders their cheeks and dusts their fancy gowns as they pass around a wineskin, laughing and setting circlets of twisted metal to rights on their smooth brows as they stumble along, tells me they’re likely returning from Eerdran Bay.

“Oh, look,” says the tallest of the dark-haired males who has a nose that reminds me of a deerhound’s snout.

If I recall correctly, he’s called Lord Cannibule, a moniker that seems to suit the cold cruelness of his gaze.

“There’s the human girl,” he shouts, pulling the others to a stop and tapping his pointed chin dramatically. “Now what was her name again? Was it Folly? No. Jolly? Perhaps… Dolly?”

They fall over themselves, laughing as though he’s emitted the cleverest joke to ever pass through a set of self-satisfied lips.

“It’s Holly,” I correct, going right up to them and smiling in their haughty faces.

“By the Elements, the creature speaks,” shrieks the girl with the bleakest eyes, her pretty wings fluttering like something out of a mortal child’s pleasant dream.

“Yes, I speak. And I’m so smart I can even ask what your names are,” I reply.

“Indeed you may ask, but we won’t give them to you,” says Cannibule.

Grinning as I remember the rest of their names—Dustiniel, Ziandron, and Nikitas—I take a large bite of apple instead of the fae lord’s slender throat.

The smaller male with starlit eyes, Lord Dustiniel, flares his thin nostrils. “You’re either very foolish or extremely brave to eat faery fruit, mortal.”

“It does me no harm. Both Mern and your earth mage charmed me against its effects.”

“That was a mistake, if ever Terra has made one.”

Charming fellow.

“Nevertheless,” I say smoothly. “It’s a very tasty apple. Good day to you all.”

“Enjoy our bounty while your good fortune lasts,” the girl called Ziandron says as I skip past, knocking me into the low rock wall that hedges the path. “Terra has most likely rigged the charm to end at any moment.”

The pain in my cheek blinds me, but unfortunately my hearing still functions fine, and the sound of their laughter mocks me all too clearly.

“Oh, dear. She has fallen,” ethereal Nikitas says.

“She’ll be fine,” Cannibule asserts. “She is a healer… Apparently.”

Their rude comments trail off as they stagger toward the castle, clearly pleased to have caused some pain and misery. I refuse to let such nasty creatures spoil my day.

Deciding to search for wild comfrey to treat my bruise with, I pick up the hem of my embroidered skirt and start back up the hill.

It would be easier to visit the apothecary, but I don’t want news of the altercation finding its way back to Gade. Being known as a tattletale would only cause me more trouble with the high lords and ladies of the Seelie Court.

Wincing with each bite of fruit, I stroll past the castle grounds toward the Black Forest, concentrating on the path so I don’t trip and gain further injuries.

Near the edge of the forest, I smack into a wall of hard flesh and fall backward, the apple core rolling down the hillside as Gade grips my shoulders and steadies me.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“To find herbs. I fancy a cup of freshly picked tea,” I lie.

“Mapona has every herb you can think of growing in the apothecary garden. Why not visit her and save yourself an unpleasant tumble down the hill?”

“I feel like a walk.” Another untruth. Since I’ve arrived in Faerie, lying is becoming quite a habit.

My gaze roves over the constellations of gemstones on Gade’s belted, indigo tunic, his dark leather pants, then the crown on his forehead, glinting in the soft afternoon light.

Today, his black hair hangs loose in shiny waves past his shoulders, rubies and diamonds braided through it. Silver shoulder armor juts at dangerous angles, studded with dark crystals in the shape of tiny thorns. Despite the finery of his clothing, only one jewel adorns his fingers; the heavy garnet ring he’s always twisting whenever he speaks to me.

Although I’ve been in the kingdom for ten days, I’m not yet accustomed to this shining version of my captor, who looks every bit a future king of Faery. The shock of his beauty, his otherness, befuddles my mind, and distracted, I lift my hand and touch my face.

His smile dissolves as his fingers trail lightly over the bruise on my cheek. “What happened?”

A quick head shake is my response.

“I see.” A muscle ticks in his jaw. “Who?” he demands.

“It’s nothing.” I brush his hand away and try not to wince.

“Who did this to you?”

“I… I tripped and fell.”

“Liar.”

“It’s the truth. I swear it.”

“Your words may describe the circumstances, but who pushed you first?”

Biting my lip, I shuffle backward, away from the prince.

He steps forward; the ground rumbling underfoot and cracking the roots of nearby trees, his anger made manifest in the external environment.

“Gade…”

Baring his teeth, the blue of his eyes turns to ice. “Give me names, Holly, and on my life, whoever they are, they’ll pay dearly for hurting you.”

“They were fooling around and didn’t mean for me to hit the rock wall.”

His fury shimmies around his body, like heat waves above hot stone.

I’ve said too much, and now I’ll never hear the end of it. Dread churns the apple in my stomach, souring the digesting pieces. The last thing I want is revenge on the faeries who tripped me, for Gade to deal out heavy-handed retribution. I’d much rather pretend the incident never happened.

He widens his stance and folds his arms across his chest. “I want their names.”

“And if I refuse?”

“In Faery, denying a prince’s request is a serious offense.”

“How can that be true? Nobody, including a prince, should be granted everything they want. You’re sounding like a tyrant.”

He snorts. “You’re calling me a tyrant now? Unbelievable.”

“You take yourself far too seriously. You’d benefit greatly from learning to laugh at yourself.”

“And why in the realms would I do that?” He grunts. “Ridiculous idea.”

I spin on my heel and walk toward the tree line, Gade following along as if he’s been invited on an outing.

“In Faery,” he says, pulling me around to face him. “Fae are punished for such transgressions against royals—a term of imprisonment or bondage to any manner of cruel creatures would be fitting for your refusal to give up names, but as with all things in my land, payment can be bartered. What would you give me to release you from being punished for your errors?”

“Errors? I thought I only made one.”

“One, your refusal to name your attackers. And two, your rudeness toward a prince of Faery.”

I huff out a breath. “A moment ago, you wanted to protect me, and now you want to punish me. Are you joking?”

“I rarely jest.”

“Why on earth do Faeries have to bargain for everything?”

Thinking fast, I study the deep blue of the afternoon sky above his shoulders. “As you know, I have no gold or special powers to offer. Would the telling of a mortal story satisfy you?”

“I have no need for human tales, tall or small. We have the finest story weavers in the realms residing in this kingdom.”

I laugh and poke my finger into his shoulder armor. “Then take me to your prison, Gadriel, for I have nothing valuable to give you.”

“I disagree.”

I brace my hands on my hips. “What, then?”

“Since you are sober today, I’d happily take a kiss freely given and call the matter settled.”

“Oh, don’t remind me of the other night. I’ve already apologized for my behavior. It was inappropriate. I was—”

“Beautiful. Charming. Do you understand what I’m asking? If you agree to kiss me only for the sake of the bargain, then the kiss will be worthless. But if you kiss me because you want to, bargain or no, then your payment is priceless to me.”

My heart thuds against my ribs. “How will you know the difference? I could lie and say I long to kiss you, and then do it under sufferance.”

“I’ll be in no doubt, healer. Already, a fire glows in your eyes, and the spiced scent of your blood provides tantalizing insight.”

Cunning fae. This bargain he’s devised forces me to declare my inner feelings—the ones that grow feverishly each night, ignited by images of the Prince of Five and stoked by the sinuous fae on the tapestries in my bedchamber, dancing in the flickering firelight.

“But I don’t need to be punished for denying you anything. You’re contriving nonsense solely to bend me to your will. And, yes, you’re right—I do want to kiss you. So if you have the courage, Prince Gadriel, I dare you to step closer and just hurry up and do it.”

He reels backward, shocked. “No one speaks to royalty with such contempt and disrespect.”

“Except me. But you’re wrong. I speak to you like that because I like you. Quite a lot, in fact. I will always tell you when you put a foot on the wrong path or get too big for your britches. And that’s because I—”

Then, thankfully, his lips are on mine, warm and demanding, and cutting off my reckless words.

Wind rustling through leaves, birdsong, and the distant crash of waves against cliffs—all of it merges, disappearing beneath the sound of my blood rushing through my veins, my sighs, and Gade’s soft groans.

Time slows and warps as my breath and body mold to his will, heat engulfing me as he draws me closer and whispers my name.

Holly.

Three times he says it, yet I could hear it from his lips a thousand more.

My hands traverse the hard planes of his chest, then my fingers lock behind his neck as I bask in the feel of his warm skin, his urgent lips.

He gently cups my bruised cheek, and light flashes behind my closed eyes. The heat increases until it scalds, and with a gasp, I step backward out of his embrace.

A vortex of elemental magic whirls around us, wind, flames, crystals, and water droplets dancing together in intricate patterns. I press my hand against my cheek and feel no pain. I poke it with my finger. Nothing.

“What did you do?”

With a wave of Gade’s hand, the spinning magic reabsorbs into his chest. “Nothing nefarious, I promise. I healed your face, that’s all.”

His hands curl into fists by his side as his eyes burn through me, and he looks ready to consume me whole.

And I wonder… what would that feel like—to let him devour me?

I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to think of Mother and Rose—of how they must be struggling without me, how much they must miss me.

“Today is the tenth day of my confinement in your land. The time has come for you to help me return to my family, just as you promised.”

“Confinement? Is that truly how you view it?” His head cants to the side.

I remain silent.

He blows out a hard breath. “If that is what you wish, then of course. There is nothing in the seven realms I would refuse you, human, if it were in my power to grant.”

That declaration shocks a startled noise out of me. Since when? And why is he only mentioning this now?

“My name is Holly.” I clear my throat. “And that makes five,” I say.

“Yes, yes, only two more times you must remind me. But listen to me, Holly, stay one more night. Just one. Let me thank you for your healing work in the hut with a grand feast in your honor. Give me this last chance to convince you to remain in my service a while longer, or at the very least, to extract your promise to return to me when your mother is no longer ill.”

I flinch at his careful words—how he implies my mother’s passing without stating it outright. I think about what he wants—me to stay in his service, which can only mean to work for him.

“Do you kiss your servants very often?” I ask.

He blinks. “Many fae dally with their attendants… but I do not.”

“Worse and worse. Am I correct in assuming that you’re asking me to be a servant, attend you personally and help you perform personal tasks such as washing your hair and bathing and the like?”

Gade rubs his frown. “No. Of course not. And fae only bathe for—”

“Pleasure. Yes, I know. You’ve reminded me many times. And believe me, witnessing you take your pleasure is the very last thing I want.”

“Why must you take offense at everything I say?”

“Why must you insist on causing it?”

He leans close and speaks through gritted teeth. “You are impossible, human.”

“Holly. Now that’s six times I’ve reminded you,” I yell, my blood boiling over. “And you, prince, are intolerable. Good day.”

Instead of poking my tongue out, I drop a sarcastic curtsy, then stalk off, turning to shout over my shoulder. “And, Gadriel, I’ll eat my dinner in my rooms this evening, so don’t bother feasting in my honor. And unless you want to discuss my departure, please don’t talk to me, either.”

“Holly.” His deep voice booms from behind me, and I stop in my tracks, refusing to turn because I have no desire to witness the soft pout of his lips or the anger heating his gaze.

“I will find the fae who hurt you,” he says, “And they will pay a terrible price.”

“No, I forbid it.”

He has the gall to laugh. “That will not stop me.”

“Well then, Gadriel Raven Fionbharr, you’re nothing but a black-hearted, wicked faery. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”

“Why would I be?” he says, laughter lacing his tone. “I’ll never regret anything that keeps you safe.”

Both guilt and fear surge through me. Fear of the tortures he might inflict on those courtiers if he discovers their identities. And guilt because, even knowing what he’s capable of, his protective nature makes me want to stay in Faery for as long as he keeps kissing me as though I am special to him.

If my mother didn’t need me, maybe I would remain here, glamored and bewitched, drinking faery wine and dancing to the whim of Gade’s desires for a year and a day or some such ridiculous and unfathomable duration of Faery time.

And if there were an accurate way to be certain he’d never tire of me, I’d be sorely tempted to stay forever.

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