by May Dawson
“How long are you staying here?” I raised my cup to my lips and sipped something sweet and unfamiliar, the action covering up my nerves. I found Raile unnerving—sexy, but unnerving.
“I’ll need to go home and tend some matters soon,” Raile said. “I thought perhaps you’d come with me.”
I almost snorted whatever-Fae-fruit-juice-this-was out of my nose. “Why would you think that?”
“Raile,” Faer said, “Perhaps this isn’t the time.”
“I would like you to marry me,” Raile said.
Faer pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers.
“I would like to not marry anyone,” I said. My fingers were suddenly so tense on the goblet I thought I might shatter it. I looked to Faer, my voice coming out barbed when I demanded, “Brother?”
“You are a princess,” he said. “You’ll have to marry someone, for the good of the kingdom.”
“Why don’t you marry Raile, then?” I demanded. “You’ll also have to marry, won’t you?”
“An alliance with the sea court is essential to final victory for the summer court,” Faer said, as if I hadn’t offered a perfectly reasonable solution. “Otherwise, our enemies can attack us by sea.”
“An alliance sounds lovely. Great idea. There’s no reason I need to wear a white gown and carry flowers down the aisle with this dickwad—no offense, Raile—for us to form an alliance.”
I’d probably just failed all of Azrael’s princess lessons in one paragraph.
“You don’t need to wear a white gown,” Raile said, his tone reasonable. “You just need to come with me to the undersea.”
“The undersea,” I repeated. I rose from my seat, pushing away from the table. The wind whipped my hair into my face as I reeled, trying to figure out what to say. “I won’t marry anyone.”
“You will,” Faer said, his voice laced with steel. “Not today or tomorrow, but you are a princess. And Raile is patient.”
“I’ve already waited five years,” he said.
“Charming.” My hands shook with rage. “Why do you even want to marry me?”
A smile twisted Raile’s lips. Faer leaned toward him, shaking his head.
But Raile ignored him.
“Revenge,” Raile told me, the word falling heavily between us.
And I thought relationships were fucked-up in the mortal world.
“Stay away from me,” I told him, my voice tight with fury. “I won’t marry you, it doesn’t matter how patient you are.”
“You will,” Raile called as I headed for the doors to Faer’s apartment. “You promised yourself to me, and I to you, long ago. There’s nothing stopping us from finding love, Princess Alisa.”
“You’re a madman!” I shouted before I ducked through the doors.
“You made me that way!” he yelled back, rising from the table. “With your tricks! With your cruelty!”
Then I was gone, running through the long marble antechamber and back through the maze of halls. I should’ve run to someplace private, to my own quarters, someplace I could think.
Instead, my feet carried me to the library where I’d found Azrael earlier.
I threw open the door and banged in. He looked up from his book, then rose, his face clouding as he took in my expression. I glimpsed Tiron and Duncan, who must have joined him in his search for answers, but neither of them mattered to me now. I was fixed on Azrael.
“You absolutely asshole,” I told him, right before I punched him across the face.
He stumbled back, catching himself against the shelves of books. I was already swinging for him again, but he didn’t let the second blow land; he ducked to one side, trying to catch my arm, but he and I were pretty evenly matched, except for his greater size. He kept trying to parry my blows, because he wouldn’t strike me, but I wanted him to.
Hit me back, Azrael. Hurt me. You can’t hurt me any worse than you already have.
“What is it exactly that you are accusing me of?” he demanded, as if I were the crazy one in this situation.
“You know that Faer brought me back here to marry Raile!” I exploded. “You let me think the Fae needed me. That I was supposed to come back here and rule. Instead, you brought me back for what—to be a slave in the undersea?”
“Don’t be dramatic.” He ducked a book as I threw it at him.
I ripped another off the shelf. I was being dramatic—and childish—but the hurt that tightened my chest felt as if it would crush me.
“No,” Duncan egged me on, “Be dramatic. He is an asshole.”
“Stop helping,” Azrael warned him, glancing over my shoulder at him.
“Oh, I’m not helping.” Duncan grinned.
“I told you I appreciated your friendship.” My eyes widened at my own stupidity as I lashed out at Azrael again, who just barely danced around the table, evading me. “I kissed you! Like an idiot. And you let me kiss you.”
Even Duncan wasn’t smiling now. He shook his head.
“I’m sorry,” Azrael said, and this time, maybe on purpose, he didn’t duck when I hit him. My fist slammed into his jaw, knocking him backward against the shelves. The shelf rocked, and Tiron rushed to steady it. Books rained down from the shelves, and Azrael raised his arms to cover his head as they slammed into him and fell to the floor.
I shook my hand out. My knuckles ached. I didn’t feel any better.
Azrael faced me, his eyes wary, as he rubbed his jaw with one hand.
“I hate you,” I whispered, but the room had gone so quiet I could be heard in any corner. “You could have told me what Raile was plotting that first night, couldn’t you? But you didn’t. You said you’d keep me from looking foolish, but you’re the one who played me for a fool.”
I stalked for the door, ignoring how miserable Azrael looked. Tiron started to follow me, but Duncan grabbed his arm.
“You don’t deserve anything else, Princess,” Duncan called after me. “You don’t remember that, but we do.”
Then he muttered, almost to himself, “At least, we do at times.”
“You know what?” I spun in the doorway. “Bullshit. I call bullshit on that. I know who I am, and I’m not the villain you want to paint me. That’s just a lie you tell yourself because it means you don’t owe me a damn thing—that you don’t have to be anything but villains yourselves.”
Then I ran to my chambers, my leather slippers whispering over the marble floors. The sound raised what might have been the thinnest thread of memory—running like this as a child, Faer pursuing me, both of us laughing.
Or maybe it was just my imagination.
Whatever it was, it had me crying as soon as I slammed the door between the Fae world and myself.
I wasn’t going to stay here. Not for long. Not lost in my tears, and not trapped in my gilded cage.
This princess was going to save herself.
Chapter Forty-Two
Alisa
There was a rustling sound at my window. I whirled to find Tiron floating outside my window, with a self-satisfied grin spread across his face.
I ran to the stone arch that formed the window. Beautiful iridescent white wings spread to either side of his body.
“You look like an angel,” I said.
He laughed at that, then reached out to grab the edge of the arch. “Not quite. Look out.”
I stepped to one side as he thrust his legs inside, letting his momentum carry him inside as his wings snapped back into his body. His upper body was bare, and his powerful shoulders and lean abs rippled with the motion.
He took a few quick steps to catch himself, before shoving one hand in his pocket. The movement brought the two of us close together, and the clean pine-and-snow scent of his body washed over me. My nostrils flared before I could resist the impulse, eager to breathe in more of him.
“Show-off,” I accused him.
“I’m just showing you what you can do, Princess.” He winked at me. “Time to reclaim those wings.”
I hesitated. “Do Duncan and Azrael know you’re here?”
He shook his head.
“Are you going to get in trouble?”
He grinned, the corners of his green eyes crinkling, and I felt silly for asking.
“Would Duncan try to kick my ass if he knew where I was?” he asked lightly. “Absolutely. Do I care?”
The mischievous look on his face suggested that he did not, in fact, care. Warmth lit my chest. It felt good to have someone on my side.
“That conversation… with Azrael…” I began. I didn’t want him to choose between his friends and me.
“Azrael’s…” he hesitated. “Azrael is a good man. But he’s got some baggage, Alisa. He lost a lot…”
“I know.” I managed a smile. “If I were him, I think I’d hate myself for forgetting.”
Sometimes I hated Azrael for remembering.
“That’s not your fault.” Tiron sounded sure about it. He shifted, as if he were about to reach out and touch me, then tucked his hands behind his back.
“No, but…” I stared out the window at the bright reflection of the sinking sun off the ocean. “Whoever I was before… maybe I deserved what happened. What if whoever took my memories and shoved me through that portal is the actual hero of this story? What if I’m the villain here, Tiron? Just as much as Faer…”
“You’re nothing like Faer.” The words exploded out of him, surprising us both.
He cleared his throat. I was still staring at him, reeling from the power in his voice. His fire lit a spark of warmth in my chest. It was nice someone believed in me in a palace where everyone saw me as either weak or dangerous.
He stepped up easily into the window, and the light framed his tall powerful body. He held his hand out to me.
Apparently Tiron was the master of the subject change.
“Fly with me.”
“Promise I won’t fall.” I put my hand in his.
His hands were warm and firm, calloused across the palms and the knuckles. They didn’t feel like the hands of a nobleman, not even a sixth son.
He pulled me easily up onto the windowsill beside him and wrapped his big arm around my waist. I was suddenly pulled against all those lean, hard muscles that rippled against my body with his motion.
He grinned at me. “Falling is just a part of flying. You can’t have one without the other.”
He let himself fall back.
I closed my eyes, holding back a scream. The two of us tumbled toward the ocean, and a splash of cold water slammed into my feet. I opened my eyes in shock, just in time to see Tiron’s wings shimmering around him. His wings beat, and the two of us shot up through the air.
He held me close as we flew back and forth over the white-capped waves, as the sunk sank low beneath the ocean. Once I was sure that we weren’t going to die, I couldn’t hold back a giddy laugh.
The two of us swooped to shore and he landed lightly, still holding me tightly in his arms. My toes touched the sand, but I didn’t unloop my arms from his waist. Instead, the two of us lingered there at the edge of the sea, as night fell around us.
“Ready to fall?” he teased me.
“I don’t even remember having wings,” I confessed. “I’m not sure how to…”
I glanced over my shoulder at the empty space.
“If you don’t want to shred your clothes you might want to…” he trailed off. “Not that clothes matter to you, you can always get new ones…”
Of course fairies flew half-naked most of the time. They were so comfortable in their skins, so different than humans.
“No,” I said. “It’s all right, I’ll…”
“Of course.” His words were smooth but his eyes had gone wide, as if he hadn’t just seen me naked in the pool earlier that week.
I pulled the simple black tunic over my head and held it gripped loosely in one hand. He kept his gaze fixed determinedly on my face, but a muscle ticked in his jaw, as if the act physically hurt him. I hid a smile.
Was I a terrible person for enjoying the way these males reacted to me?
I didn’t think so, especially when I felt the same wayward impulses.
He rested his hands on my shoulders. “Your wings were probably hidden by your enchantment—it would have been pretty awkward if you’d unfurled them on a city bus or in a Burger King or on a date—but they’ve been there all along. You just need to call on them.”
His own wings suddenly unfurled, with a quick pop at first, followed by a slower curl as they spread to their full, immense size.
He stared at me, the cool, salty breeze ruffling his blond hair. He looked as if he expected my wings to emerge just as easily. I closed my eyes, imagining my wings unfurling to either side, how it might hurt as they ripped out of my back.
Nothing happened.
I opened my eyes again. “That was incredibly non-specific. Just so you know. You’re not going to be recruited to write a book on flying for dummies anytime soon.”
“Was it?” He grinned.
Something hung over us both. I looked up to see my wings—luminous, lavender wings dappled with gold and silver. They were so beautiful they took my breath away. I raised a hand to run it over the curve of my wing, and sensation fluttered through my wing, down my shoulder, all through my body—a sudden, intense sense that seemed to strike all the way to my core.
“I should tell you,” he said suddenly, “Fae don’t touch each other’s wings…not without permission. Just as a matter of etiquette.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Our wings are so sensitive. It’s incredibly erotic… as intimate as a kiss.”
He was still standing close to me. His defined jawline and his beautiful lips—a plush lower lip, a pronounced bow in the top—were in my line of vision, and I could barely draw my gaze away from him.
“How do I learn to use these things?” I asked, forcing myself to look away from him before I gave into impulse and kissed him.
He shifted ever-so-subtly closer to me as I started to speak, then paused, and suddenly I had regrets. I shouldn’t have distracted Tiron from the subject of kissing.
I looked out over the immense dark of the ocean now. The sea in front of us seemed to be mirrored by the sea of brilliant stars above. Clusters of luminescent flowers floated on the waves, and the tide was a constant soft rush.
“You trust me,” he said softly. “Falling is part of the game, but I won’t let you get hurt.”
“I do,” I said, the words quick and glib. I didn’t trust easily.
All my life—that I remembered—I’d carried the weight of that note. You don’t have any friends. I’d let the Hunters into my life, carefully. I loved being with Ellie, Carter, Julian and the other Hunters. I laughed at their boisterous drinking and the casual Hunter’s code that involved a lot of fighting and flirting and… well. I trusted them to watch my back. I thought of them as friends.
I’d taken time—a long time—to grow that comfortable with them all, though. What I felt when I was close to Tiron was… different. Intense.
But I had to trust him to learn to fly. I told myself that the way I was acting made sense, even though it felt very….un-Alisa.
Tiron gripped my hand in his. “Trust yourself,” he murmured. “You knew how to do this. Deep inside, you still do.”
“Unless the enchantment that blocks my memories could also cause me to plummet to my death,” I said lightly. “Well, let’s do this.”
“Beat your wings,” he said. “You should feel the contraction in your shoulders.”
Sure enough, I felt a ripple through my shoulder muscles and then beyond. I frowned in concentration, continuing to beat my wings.
He was smirking at me.
“What?” I demanded.
He didn’t answer me. He just glanced down.
At the dark ocean, far below our feet.
Chapter Forty-Three
Tiron
Alisa was always beautiful, but when that smile of
wonder lit her face as she was limned by the moonlight, she was so gorgeous that my chest ached.
The two of us flew together over the ocean, swooping back and forth.
When we landed and she’d pulled her shirt back on, she said, “It was good to see the city from above. I hate that I don’t remember anything about my own kingdom.”
“You know, you and Azrael have more in common than you realize.” Azrael cared so intently about the autumn court; I knew it was painful for him to stay away from his people and the autumn court lands. But he felt they were safer without him, given Faer’s attention.
She groaned. “Do we have to talk about Azrael? It feels like my life revolves around Azrael. Will Azrael help me? How does Azrael feel today? What stupid one-line insults will he deliver if I ask him to fill in my memory?”
Color lingered in her cheeks; the mere mention of Azrael seemed to leave her heated. Perhaps in more ways than one.
“We don’t have to talk about Azrael,” I said slowly, “but you seem like you need to.”
She shook her head, then tucked her hand through my arm. “You know, you give excellent side-eye.”
“Just one of the many services I provide.” I patted her hand over my forearm, enjoying just being close to her. “Let’s go see your city, Alisa.”
The city stretched across the hill above us. On the other side lay the forest. We padded barefoot through the thick sand, then stepped onto the cobblestone street. Flowering trees and low stone walls separated the city from the docks and its buildings and the faint fishy scent underlying the clean salt breeze. Between the fragrant flowers and the sea, the aroma in the air seemed to change every time the wind shifted.
As we wandered through the city that lay beyond the castle’s gates, Alisa looked around curiously, and regret washed over me. She was all but trapped in that castle. We had to find a way to rescue her.
At night, the city was vibrant and loud; most of the low Fae were nocturnal. They had to adapt to the preferred working hours of the high Fae, but they stayed awake late in the night.
