Bound To The Elf Prince: A Snow White Retelling (Once Upon a Fairy Tale Romance Book 4)

Bound To The Elf Prince: Chapter 2



As we proceed to the guest chambers, I cannot stop picturing the princess. With long hair as black as night, golden-brown eyes that glimmer like stars, and skin that appears touched by moonlight, she is captivatingly beautiful to behold.

I had not expected this. I heard humans could not come close to the beauty of our people, but it seems these rumors were wrong.

I had also not expected the fear in Lyana’s eyes, nor the subtle trembling of her hands as her gaze met mine.

In her eyes, I am the enemy—a monster come to steal her and claim her as his bride. The thought burns like bitter acid on my tongue. I know she does not desire this marriage, but she understands the necessity for our kingdoms’ benefit.

Both sides have lost many, and the death of my older brother, Dhurvaen, during battle with the Orcs, was a devastating blow felt throughout the kingdom.

The Orcs have an insatiable thirst for blood and war. If we are to have any chance of defeating their forces, we must have more allies. We cannot fight this war by ourselves.

A hand on my shoulder draws my attention, and I turn to find Ruvaen. His golden eyes hold wisdom. He has been my mentor since I was a child. He insisted upon accompanying me today, and I am glad for his presence.

“You presented yourself with honor today, my prince. Your brother would have been proud.”

I swallow against the lump in my throat at the mention of Dhurvaen. I miss him. Every. Single. Day. “Thank you, Ruvaen.”

When the Eryadon guards gesture me into my room, I’m surprised by the cramped space. I heard that humans build their castles differently from ours, but I never expected this. Instead of fine crystal or polished glass surfaces that reflect the soft glow of magic and candles, the walls are confining dark-gray stone, and the windows are little more than a square on each wall.

The castle was built for defense instead of aesthetics. Then again, since humans possess no magic, I suppose this was the rational choice.

Humans fear magic. As part of the treaty, they insisted that our powers be bound while we are in Eryadon. This bargain was sealed with the signing of the agreement between us.

I glance down at my hand and sigh heavily. It is strange to be unable to perform even a simple lighting spell to brighten these dreary chambers.

Furs and thick comforters form a deep layer atop the bed against the far wall. A fireplace beside it is already lit for warmth, and a table and chair sit across the way.

A door on the left wall leads to a cleansing room that is sparsely decorated and utilitarian. Another heavy door opens onto a balcony overlooking the palace gardens. Compared to the gardens of my family’s castle, these appear strange and unnatural. Every plant is arranged in neat rows and patterns, and the shrubbery trimmed into sharp angles and shapes. Beautiful flowers bloom from nearly every stem, but there is nothing wild or natural about this place.

The gardens of my home are as wild and untamed as the great forests that surround our capital. Our people have always had such a close connection to nature that we would never seek to tame it the way the humans do. Instead, we strive only to live in harmony with our surroundings, encouraging the growth of all life.

I have heard the humans no longer honor the old gods who watch over the forests as the Elves still do. As my gaze sweeps beyond the castle to their city of cobbled streets, heavy stone buildings, and fortified walls, it is obvious they have abandoned the old ways long ago.

It is dark outside, but my vision is sharp. Elves can see nearly as well in the night as in the sunlight.

Movement along the far wall of the castle draws my attention.

I turn my head and gape when I catch sight of the princess jumping from her balcony onto a nearby tree and climbing to the ground.

Thick vines cling to the walls beside my balcony, and I test their strength. When I am satisfied that they can bear my weight, I decide to follow her. I’m curious to see where she will go. To the arms of a lover? Or is she attempting to escape our marriage by simply running away?

I scowl as I track her movement along the wall. My nostrils flare as I draw her scent deep into my lungs, committing it to memory so I may use it to follow her. She smells of strawberries and warm summer days—a pleasant combination, and one I will not easily forget.

Moving quickly with the stealth possessed of my people, I surrender to instinct so that I may track her. I will see where she goes, then determine whether I will confront her.


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