Prince of Bears: Autumn Court #2 (Rosethorn Valley Fae Romance)

by Tasha Black

  She had only been anxious to keep the tattoo twisting around her wrist out of sight. She wouldn’t have been able to explain that away. But it was helpful not to be cross-examined.

  Willow headed for the bathroom, where a steaming bath had already been drawn. She closed and locked the door, then looked around.

  There did not seem to be any other way in or out. The window showed her she was high enough that climbing out wasn’t an option.

  The reflection of snowy white mountains on the frozen lake sparkled in the last of the sunlight, looking both beautiful and dangerous.

  Think, Willow, think…

  But she couldn’t think of anything.

  For now she would have to take a bath, dress herself, and try to keep an open mind about escaping.

  Heath would soon go back to his realm and his family.

  It was time to go back to hers.

  If she truly meant anything to him, Heath would come to the mortal realm to find her again, she was sure of it. The best thing she could do was go back, and hopefully find the real Ashe and send her home.

  If the bounty hunter hadn’t found her already.

  She bathed quickly and wrapped herself in a long, soft robe.

  She unlocked the door and poked her head out.

  No one was in her bedroom.

  Her clothing had been laid out on the giant bed. There was a pale blue gown, as well as a bevy of strange undergarments and what she thought might be a petticoat.

  Thankfully, there was also a pair of cream-white, satin gloves.

  Willow felt a surge of gratitude for Ashe’s nanny, who had sensed and honored her desire to cover herself, even if she hadn’t understood it.

  There was some good in the Winter Court after all.

  16

  Heath

  Heath trudged down the stone stairs, one pair of Winter Court soldiers in front of him, another behind, carrying torches that feebly battled the damp and the dark.

  They were far below ground at this point. Moisture seeped from the walls and lichen grew on the mortar between the huge stones of the foundation. Yet the stairs continued down into the unknown, all sounds of their passage swallowed up by the oppressive darkness that pressed in on their meager torchlight.

  The agony of the iron manacles against his skin blunted his fear for what awaited him below.

  Winter and Autumn had been locked in a perpetual quarrel since before he’d been born.

  These soldiers of Winter now had their hands on an Autumn royal, accused of kidnapping a princess. They were taking him to a dungeon without witnesses.

  He knew that the iron around his wrists and ankles would be the least of the abuse he would suffer at their hands.

  He forced himself to focus on Willow, to keep his thoughts by her side, even if he couldn’t be there himself.

  She had handled herself like a professional actor up there. He had no doubt she was being pampered like the Winter princess she was.

  In some ways, it was extraordinarily lucky that the real Ashe had not been close with her parents. Willow might actually be able to hide her identity for enough to plot her escape.

  She was the spitting image of her changeling.

  Except for the vines that showed her to be betrothed.

  Had she remembered to keep her hands covered?

  There was no more time for Heath to worry about it. They had arrived at the dungeon, deep in the bowels of a tower, the cells encircling a round stone floor with an ancient-looking desk at its center.

  It was exactly what he would have imagined if someone had asked him to picture a Winter dungeon. The cells were tiny, the prisoners looked miserable, and it was so cold that his breath plumed in the air before him.

  “Is this our special guest?” a simpering voice demanded from somewhere on the other side of the soldiers that accompanied him.

  “Uh, it’s the Autumn prince that kidnapped Princess Ashe, sir,” one of the soldiers said uncertainly.

  “Ah yes,” the voice replied as its owner strolled into Heath’s line of sight.

  Heath felt a very small measure of relief.

  The head of the dungeon would surely want to make a show of roughing up their fancy new prisoner. But this man was slight and sickly looking. He would be unlikely to do lasting damage. And didn’t look like he had the stamina for a prolonged session of chess, let alone torture.

  “Prince Heath of the court of Autumn,” the man announced, walking slowly around him as the prisoners and soldiers watched. “A very important prisoner, indeed.”

  The little man licked his thin lips.

  Heath willed his skin not to crawl, unsuccessfully.

  “Well, Your Majesty,” the man continued. “You won’t find any of your soft Autumn luxuries here. But if you keep quiet and do as you’re told, we might not have any trouble. Do I make myself clear, princeling?”

  Heath’s blood boiled at the disrespect, but he kept his head down and did not acknowledge the hideous little man.

  “Oh, I see. You think you’re very brave, don’t you?” the man asked. “You think you can steal our princess away, treat her roughly, and then come back here and be a big man?”

  He nearly broke at the assertion that he had treated Willow roughly, but he managed to remain calm, willing his heart to slow.

  “I will destroy you from the inside out, my pretty, pretty boy,” the man said softly. He held his hand out and one of the soldiers scrambled to hand him something.

  Heath didn’t look up. Whatever it was it was no worse than knowing he was a prisoner.

  The air whistled and he felt the first blow of the whip cut into his skin.

  He managed not to wince. Barely.

  “This is no fun at all,” the little man said. “Remove his clothing. He won’t feel like a prince without his royal garb. And I want to hear him scream for me.”

  Heath set his jaw and did not struggle when the underlings stripped his garments from his body.

  He stood, feet shoulder width apart and prepared for the worst.

  The little man walked around him slowly, his horrible little hand trailing in the sweat around Heath’s abs as if he were enjoying this access to his naked form.

  “You’re mine now, wretched boy,” he whispered. “Mine to do as I like with.”

  At last he found a position he liked behind Heath and the crack of the whip whistled in the air again.

  Heath closed his eyes and pictured Willow, ensconced safely in Ashe’s childhood rooms, safe and warm.

  This little man could abuse his body, but Heath’s mind would be far away, untouchable. They could take his clothing, they could take his blood, but they could not take his dignity.

  He was a prince of Autumn, and the master of himself.

  17

  Willow

  Willow stood trembling before the huge double doors.

  “Princess Ashe of the Winter Court,” a servant cried, throwing the doors open.

  The room inside was as big as a basketball court, with a floor of gleaming marble and a ceiling so high it practically disappeared above her.

  Chandeliers with thin white tapers caused the light to dance and waver as it reflected in the marble.

  Somehow, the room even smelled cold.

  At the far end of the great chamber, two narrow thrones sat atop a dais.

  “Come, child,” a woman’s voice called, the words echoing in the cavernous room.

  Willow moved forward, wiling herself to remain calm.

  These are supposed to be my parents.

  As a matter of fact, they were her biological parents.

  But Willow felt no connection to the cold voice in the echoing room, no warmth at all from the two figures seated on the thrones.

  “Daughter, you have returned,” the queen said crisply.

  Willow was relieved to see nothing of herself in those patrician features, or the condescending expression.

  The king nodded and Willow found herself gazing into dark
eyes, like her own.

  “That Autumn princeling kidnapped you. But now we have him in our custody,” the queen said with a horrible smile. “You will have your vengeance, my dear, for yourself and for your sister, Wynter.”

  Tears blurred Willow’s vision for a moment.

  “My dear, she is so pleased to see you,” the king said, misinterpreting her show of emotion, and sounding moved.

  “You have not been the favorite in the past, Ashe,” the queen said sympathetically. “But Wynter’s loss is your gain.”

  Willow was startled out of her upset by the heartlessness of the statement.

  “Your mother has found you a husband,” the king confided fondly.

  “A prince of the Spring Court,” the queen said lightly. “He’s not sharp. That whole court is soft-headed, if you ask me. But we will need the allegiance in our coming battle with Autumn. And you, my dear, will seal it with a quick marriage and a quick heir.”

  Willow stared at them, horrified.

  “I am told on good authority that he is attractive,” the king said mildly.

  “Yes, yes, he’s a very pretty boy,” the queen said. “And more importantly, he understands what you may have suffered at the hands of Autumn, and he will have you anyway.”

  Willow blinked at the queen, horrified.

  “He’ll be coming along any moment now,” the queen continued. “Do close your mouth so he won’t think he has been betrothed to a fish, Ashe.”

  But she was already betrothed, already carrying an heir.

  Willow swallowed hard and looked down at her hands, safely hidden in the gloves Iona had so kindly provided.

  For now.

  “Prince Harland of the Spring Court,” the servant announced as the large doors opened again.

  Willow turned and watched the man approach.

  He was tall, with wide shoulders and the long hair she was coming to associate with the Fae princes. The king wasn’t wrong, the Spring prince was very attractive.

  But Willow could only think of Heath, waiting in the dungeon for his family to claim him.

  “Your Majesties,” Prince Harland said in a deep voice, giving a very gracious bow.

  “Very good,” the king said to himself.

  “We present Princess Ashe,” the queen said.

  “It is an honor,” Prince Harland said, turning to Willow and bowing again.

  “Likewise,” Willow said politely.

  The prince smiled warmly.

  Whatever his role in this, she had to remember that he had no idea what was really happening.

  “The two of you shall have tea and discuss any preferences for the ceremony,” the queen said.

  “Yes, get to know each other,” the king suggested. “The prince has been to the mortal realm - such charming stories.”

  “You have?” Willow asked, turning to Harland.

  This was interesting, and possibly helpful. If he knew how to get to her world, maybe he could bring her back home.

  “Yes, Princess,” he said politely. “I’ve made a study of the mortal realm. I would be glad to tell you all about it at tea.”

  “Fantastic,” the queen said dismissively. “Willow, go back to your rooms and rest. I am sure you have been through much. The two of you will meet in the ice gardens this afternoon.”

  She didn’t need any more rest, but Willow was glad to have some time alone to plot her escape.

  18

  Willow

  Willow spent some time alone, preparing for her meeting with the Spring Prince, then allowed Iona to walk her to the ice gardens a few hours later.

  In truth, she had no idea where the ice gardens were.

  And she was further confused by why she had been made to change into another gown just to make a big deal out of going for a walk with the prince.

  Iona had only clucked at her and muttered something about Spring thinking Winter had no coin if the princess had to wear the same gown over and over again.

  Willow hardly thought that keeping her gown on for a few hours would give them any such idea, but she kept her mouth shut and hoped she hadn’t blown her cover. She’d allowed Iona to tie a petticoat around her waist and slide a silvery gown over her head.

  The walk to the gardens was longer than she expected it could be. The palace seemed to go on and on with one corridor leading to the next. She tried to memorize the turns but eventually gave up, hoping that when she was finished, she would be able to find someone to bring her back to her rooms.

  At last, they came to a large sitting room with a wall of glass doors that led out to a courtyard.

  Outside, a beautiful ice-covered garden sparkled under the late afternoon sun. The prince stood under a tree, looking up at its shimmering branches.

  “There you are, dearie, and good luck to you,” Iona said with a smile.

  “I… am glad you came with me,” Willow said, in the closest thing to thanks she could come up with.

  Iona bustled away, looking pleased and embarrassed.

  Willow took a deep breath and opened one of the doors.

  Now that she was closer, she could see that it was not an ice-covered garden after all.

  The garden was actually made of ice. Though ice carvings with this level of detail seemed impossible.

  “Hello, Your Majesty,” Prince Harland said, with a deep bow.

  He had charming dimples and such a kind and open personality. In another life, that smile would have set her insides fluttering.

  It wasn’t his fault she was already in love.

  “Hello, Your Majesty,” she replied, doing her best to curtsy without falling over in the silver gown, which was even more enormous than the blue one from this morning.

  “Shall we walk?” he suggested.

  She nodded and they headed into the garden together.

  “Incredible,” he said, looking down into an ice koi pond that was somehow populated with merrily swimming ice fish.

  “I wonder how they do it,” she said, shaking her head.

  He turned to look at her, a confused expression on his handsome face.

  She laughed weakly.

  “I’m kidding of course,” Willow explained. “We have gardeners.”

  “Oh, that’s very funny,” he said, laughing a deep belly laugh that seemed out of place in such cold surroundings.

  The continued their walk, admiring rows of ice roses and hydrangea, as well as some other flowers she couldn’t identify.

  “So, you have visited the mortal realm?” Willow asked.

  “Oh yes,” Prince Harland said. “I like it there very much.”

  “Do you go there often? “Willow asked, pretending to study an ice bird in a frozen nest, nestled in the crook of two icy branches.

  “Now and then,” the prince said. “When I can get away from the duties of the Spring Court, I often like to look in on the mortals. Did you know that they drive their mechanical coaches on something called a parkway, and park their cars on something called a driveway?”

  Willow laughed and shook her head. It was like a bad comic routine from some classic TV show. If he started talking about airline food, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to hold it together.

  “It’s true,” Harland said. “Remarkable creatures. They have minor spells and charms as well. They make cream to put around your eyes to prevent aging. It really works.”

  Well, he was wrong about that.

  It occurred to Willow that Prince Harland might not have spent as much time in the mortal realm as she had hoped.

  They rounded a corner on the path and came upon a man in simple robes, working on the garden. His hands were uplifted, and glowing bolts of blue energy sparked from his palms, shaping and chipping away at a block of ice to create what looked like a Japanese Maple.

  “Your Majesties,” he said, stopping his work and bowing at once.

  “Please, continue,” Harland said politely.

  The man straightened, nodded to them, and continued his work.
They watched him for a few minutes as he formed leaf after leaf.

  Willow looked down at her hands, wondering if she could do what he was doing. She could feel the energy sizzling just beneath her skin, anxious to get out and find a purpose.

  “It’s alright,” Prince Harland said quietly.

  She glanced up at him. She had almost forgotten he was there.

  “Pardon?” She wasn’t sure what was meant to be alright.

  “I know, Ashe,” he said. “You don’t have to hide it.”

  “You know what?” she asked.

  “I know about your…magical situation,” he said gently. “And I’m fine with it. I just didn’t want you to worry that would be an issue.”

  “You seem like a nice guy,” Willow said. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Doing what?” he asked.

  “Why are you willing to marry a complete stranger?” she asked. “A magical dud, a woman who was just kidnapped by the enemy of her own kingdom?”

  “Because I love my people,” Prince Harland replied immediately. “An allegiance with Winter is important to the Spring Court. It’s the right thing to do, if I want to save my subjects from war.”

  He really was a good guy.

  “Though now I’ve met you, I can tell you that I don’t think it will be such a sacrifice,” he said with a wink.

  She gazed down at her hands again.

  “Listen, Ashe,” he said, leaning in. “I know this isn’t the way princes claim their princesses in ideal circumstances. But you seem like a lovely person and we are both young and attractive. I’m sure that in time love and passion may follow duty. At least I would like to hope so.”

  Dear God, she really felt bad for all the subterfuge now. But what else was she supposed to do? She couldn’t tell him the truth. She couldn’t tell anyone.

  “And maybe we can visit the mortal realm together,” she suggested.

  His eyebrows went up and then he grinned. “Of course,” he said. “I would be glad to show it to you.”

  “How soon can we go?” Willow asked, hoping he wouldn’t mistake her eagerness to visit the other world for an eagerness to share his bed.