King of Always: A Fae Romance (Black Blood Fae Book 2)

Raff

“Prince Raff, what in Dana’s name are you up to?”

Damn. The rough voice behind me is nauseatingly familiar. I let go of the gooseberry bush and it springs back, a thorny branch lashing my face. “Son of a draygonet!”

Rubbing my smarting eye, I glance up, wishing it were anyone other than Kian who had discovered me.

A tiny pair of bat wings—a recent edition to his pompous appearance—rasp loudly as they unfurl above his shoulders, looking more than a little ridiculous.

His bright-blue eyes glare at me as I fight a grin, laughter bubbling in my chest. He stares down his pompous nose as though he is the one with royal fae blood, the shriveled wings fluttering like a young pixie’s. If Kian Leondearg could see himself at this moment, he would be appalled. For him, appearance is everything.

“Nothing terribly exciting. I am searching for berries for Spark,” I say, omitting key details concerning this morning’s quest as I point at my mire fox on my shoulders.

He sniffs and elbows me aside, his bejeweled fingers parting the gooseberry branches. Then he peers through the gap into the clearing, just as he found me doing only moments before. “I see. That is quite an interesting view.”

My anger burns, a fierce, almost uncontrollable urge to set his hair alight. But alas, I cannot hurt him because this is Kian—my oldest, most despicable friend. The friend who my brother Rain begged me to take care of as he died in my arms. So, in honor of Rain’s memory, I must suffer the insufferable—Kian’s constant jealousy and petty meddling.

“Move over. Let me see,” I say, hustling in the space beside him.

In the clearing, the mortal girl sits cross-legged inside a circle of blue-capped mushrooms. Does she not realize that elf rings are dangerous in Faery too?

“How did you manage to pass a lie through your lips?” snarls Kian. “You were most definitely not seeking gooseberries for Spark. You were seeking a human for yourself.”

I mold my expression into one of great offense and pull a pitiful collection of berries from my pocket, passing them to my mire fox. With one hand, Spark stuffs them in her mouth, and with the other, she slaps Kian’s head.

Cornflower eyes simmering with rage, his cheeks turn the same color as his hair.

“Control your wicked little ape or I will do it for you.”

Spark screeches, the sound nearly bursting my eardrums. “You will do no such thing. If you touch her, I shall consider it a declaration of war. Is that what you wish, to be at war with your prince?”

Expression contrite, he laughs and pats my shoulder. “Of course not, old friend. I merely jest with you.” Wisely, he draws me around to peer through the shrubs again, distracting me with locks of gold tumbling around the lithe shoulders of a perplexing girl. “Look, Raff. What do you think the little human is doing?”

A tiny fire kindles on the ground in front of her, wisps of smoke curling through her fingers. “I believe she’s playing with fire.”

His gaze shoots to mine. “Oh, ho! How appealing you must find this remarkable vision. But you must calm yourself, for that girl is not the fated mate you seek.”

“And when did you become an expert in such matters?”

“Every Elemental in the kingdom knows it would be preposterous to have a human queen. We would be the laughingstock of all the lands.”

“You forget that the first Black Blood heir’s mate was human, and Queen Holly was much admired throughout the realms. Their reign was one of long-lasting peace.”

He shakes his head. “It seems you are as foolish as your brother, Everend, is.”

No. Kian is the foolish one. Does he want me to fry him alive? For that is what he is risking with his insolence. I compress my lips to seal in the rage. “If you are as fond of your well-coiffured locks as I think you are, I suggest you leave me in peace.”

“As you wish.” He shrugs and begins to turn away, but because he must always try for the last word, he glances back over his shoulder to give a parting jibe. “I shall leave you to spy on the girl to your heart’s content, but be quick about it, or you may find yourself left behind. The procession departs after breakfast.”

“I am not spying on her. I need to speak with her, that is all.”

“Call it what you will. At last night’s revel, your spellbound gaze did not leave the human once. She sat frozen, desperate to close her eyes and cover her ears. And I watched your face, read your thoughts, your longing to soothe her. I saw you. Can you deny this?”

Each slow breath I take is painful, hot as a desert wind. I want to deny the accusation. I need to deny it. Shaking my head, I open my mouth. Words will not form because what Kian says is the truth. I watched the girl all night. I longed to go to her.

Bitter triumph alights in his eyes. “Then it is precisely as I thought. Please try to remember that humans are stupid animals. They respond best to a firm hand rather than being cosseted and coddled.”

“As do you,” I reply, lifting my chin in challenge.

Nostrils flaring, he bows, which causes his wings to spread out behind him like angled sails.

Delivering my own parting blow, I say, “I am much amused by your new appendages and note they suit you perfectly.”

“Then pay your compliments to your brother, for they are his design.” With a sneer, he spins on his heels and hurries through the forest, heading in the direction of the main camp.

Humans respond best to a firm hand, I think, grimly. Kian obviously hasn’t spent much time with this particular girl. She responds best to nothing and to no one! But, still, it is inconceivable that anyone would wish to harm her or attempt to subdue her magnificent, spirited nature. Wild and beautiful, fire cannot be tamed.

As obnoxious as Kian is, it irks me no end that he witnessed my behavior last night, the way I watched as she sat on her hands and tried not to run screaming from the rituals taking place at the Lake of Spirits.

Fae and all manner of unnatural creatures writhed together. Gods took human shape to join with whoever or whatever would have them. Beings in their animal forms, coupled with abandon. Bonfire flames and sparks leapt for the stars as the entire court replenished their magic at the source—naked in the moonlight, bathing in the glowing waters of the Lake of Spirits.

But I sat white-knuckled, rebuffing each invitation to join the debauchery, while telling myself not to go to Isla. To leave her be, to not browbeat and cajole, and repeat the fated-mate story until I wore her down and she accepted her role in it.

Last night the poison begged me to approach her, to take what is mine. To claim. To own. It is your right, it chanted. But I did not listen, for I am not a monster.

Not yet. Not yet.

As I watch her now in clearing, the same dark feeling tugs at my chest, an invisible cord running from my heart to hers, pulling me forward. Under a spell, I push through brush and foliage and move into the clearing, my boots crunching twigs and Spark chirruping excitedly in my ear.

With each step, my black heart pounds harder.

Move close, whispers the poison.

Closer.

Yes, and closer still.

Be quiet, I tell it. You are not my master yet.

Sunlight shines through the emerald tree canopy, tiny insects floating in the golden beams. My favorite smell of burning pine perfumes the air. I draw the fresh scent into my lungs, stopping in my tracks when the scene ahead of me crystallizes, the girl’s actions clear and distinct.

A tiny fire made from twigs and leaves burns at Isla’s feet. She blows once and the flames rise higher, then her fingers play through them one by one as if she caresses a delicate instrument. To my astonishment, her expression, tight with concentration, shows no sign of pain. Why do the flames not scorch her?

I tug Spark around to face me. “Quickly, you must go now. Balor is waiting for you to terrorize him.”

Disappointed, she scolds me with loud chirrups and then scurries through the long grass toward the wagons and silk pavilions positioned on the edge of the lake.

Isla’s head snaps up as I arrive beside her.

“You should move out of the circle of blue caps before you are spirited away to an even more dangerous realm than this one.”

She curses under her breath as I blast the mushrooms with fire, destroying them. I wait for her to greet me, but she says nothing, her gaze fixed on the flames in front of her.

I walk around the fire and crouch opposite, watching her in silence for a few moments. I take a stick and rearrange the burning twigs. “Don’t you know it is dangerous to play with fire?”

She laughs. “Everyone knows that.”

“Perhaps. But do humans understand how perilous fire’s true nature is? The most ruthless of elements—it will reveal all secrets before taking everything, purifying and regenerating without mercy. And when the flames are done, there will be nothing left.”

The quick smile she flashes is sorcery in its purest form, drawing me closer. “Not all humans know this, but I certainly do. I understand that it brings destruction, followed by renewal, and sometimes…eternal damnation. It’s terrifying really.”

“And even so, you are not afraid of it.” I turn my palm up and tiny flames, only a finger-tip high, burst into life, spiraling over my skin.

Sky-blue eyes widen as she leans close, entranced by the fire magic. She brings her hand up and moves her fingers through the tips of the flames. “Does it hurt?” she asks, her breathing shallow and rapid.

Staring at my palm, I whisper, “No. It doesn’t hurt.” Our heads lift, gazes locking. “I feel the heat,” I tell her. “It tingles, but that is all.”

She nods. “Yes. It feels good, doesn’t it?” Her tone is certain, as though she has experienced it herself.

“Raff, what did the sylphs mean yesterday about the chosen one dying?” Her fingers lift higher, and my flames stretch toward them as if drawn by a strong breeze. Or magic.

My pulse quickens. I can hardly believe what I see. She is beckoning the flames, controlling my elemental power. But by conscious act or by accident? Chest tightening, I scrutinize her face, searching for her secrets.

Fire Queen. The Queen of Fire. The very thing you have long dreamed of, cursed one, is now before your eyes—within reach. Take it.

Take her.

The beating pulse at her neck taunts, dark savagery clouding my vision. And red, the color red washes through my being, blinding me. I imagine biting her open like she’s a ripe peach, spilling dark juice over my chin. Licking blood from my lips.

Take what you want, snarls the poison.

Take it now.

She is yours. It cannot be denied.

Protect or destroy—decide as you will. Decide now.

My muscles tremble, jaw clenching so hard it cracks.

“Raff? What’s wrong?”

Shaking my head, I blow out a harsh breath and wake from the poison’s grip. “It was nothing. What question did you ask? Oh, yes, the sylphs. They were reciting part of the Black Blood curse. Most likely the nonsensical section. Do not worry about it.”

“Sure, if you say so,” she says, her voice full of suspicion and doubt. Slowly, her palm passes through the center of the fire on my palm, the flames vanishing in her wake.

Shocked, I blink at her then study my palm again to be certain I’m not hallucinating. There is no fire. No flame. How in the seven realms is that possible? My magic—extinguished by a human girl.

I flick my wrist and fire ignites once more. This time the flames dance even higher.

She gives me a cheeky smirk and moves her palm above mine, lifting it slowly, her brow creased in concentration. At once, the flames leap to follow her hand. Incredible. This girl is controlling the fire and is well aware that she is doing so.

Then, hard and fast, she presses her hand down, and my magic vanishes. Boom. Gone.

I reel backward on my heels. “You vanquished my fire magic!”

Hands covering her mouth, she laughs. “Yeah. I did, didn’t I?”

“Have you done such a thing before?”

“Never.”

I leap to my feet and pace in a tight circle. “Seven hells, human, let us try again.”

With a slow breath, I expand my chest and set the wildness inside me free, conjuring flames at my feet. Blue flames. Crimson flames. They roar, sparks flying, as I draw them to chest height, my fingers spread wide. “Can you put this out?”

She rises and stands opposite, planting her bare feet wide. The fire writhes and crackles between us. She points at my neck. “Whoa. That’s wicked, Raff! The tattoo on your throat is glowing like lava.”

“Yes, that happens when my elemental forces are released.” And for other reasons I’d best not mention. “Stop distracting me and try to destroy the flames.”

“Sure thing, Fire King.” She thrusts both palms forward, and the shell of my magic tears like it’s made of silk instead of a tough, flexible field of elemental energy.

A hot shiver rushes down my spine as I work to keep the fire intact. If fae could sweat, right now my brow would be sheened in it. Despite using all my strength, the flames surge toward me, caressing my jaw. She is winning this battle, and the notion exhilarates me.

“I’m a prince, not a king,” I remind her, laughing at our game.

“Eh. Whatever. Pretty soon you’ll be the big boss of the Emerald Court. And I wonder, will it make you happy, Raff, to be king?”

Moving the flames away from my body, I speak through gritted teeth. “I dare say I’ll be happy enough. At the very least I’ll be extremely glad to be rid of the poison. But you’re forgetting something.”

“What’s that?”

“To become king, I’ll need a queen.”

As she registers my meaning, her face tightens. She grunts, flicks her fingers at me, and my fire vanishes again.

Arms folded, she grins smugly while I scowl in disbelief.

Shaking magic residue from my hands, I step closer. “Well that proves it then. There is no doubt you have the power to extinguish fire. But I wonder if it can burn you?”

“It probably would eventually. I’m human, and we’re as flammable as hair spray.”

“Is that a magical formula from your realm?”

She laughs. “Kind of. It makes people’s hairstyles look better…or in many cases, worse.”

Sounds interesting. “Then we shall find the ingredients for you to make some, and I will try this spray myself. In the meantime, let us test if the flames can harm you.”

The black blood drips through my veins. My heart beats slowly. I step close and cuff her throat with the fingers of one hand. With my other hand, I cradle the side of her face and raise tiny flickering flames against her skin. “Do these hurt?”

Lips parting, her ragged breaths mix with mine. Blue eyes drop to my mouth. “No. There’s no pain.”

“And curiously the fire doesn’t spread either,” I say, my voice a low rumble.

“It never spreads. Even at home when I cook, I can play a little with fire.”

“What would happen if I made the fire grow?”

“Try it,” she whispers, leaning into my touch. “Let’s see.”

I blow sparks into her hair. At once, flames grow and twine around her loose waves. They caress and stroke, but they don’t catch alight. Her hair isn’t burning, it’s merging, becoming one with the fire.

“Isla, you have fire magic,” I murmur, my lips so close they almost graze hers. “Just as my queen should.”

“No!” She shoves me away, and the flames draw back inside me, the black heart caged in my ribs absorbing them.

She sighs and crumples to her knees on the grass, then crawls to her travel pack and rifles through it. “That was amazing. And now I’m ravenous. Playing with fire is hungry work!”

Fascinated, I watch her closely. For a human, what she can do is near miraculous, but she doesn’t seem shocked or even particularly pleased with herself. What a strange being she is.

“Do you want a cookie?” she asks, withdrawing a cloth-wrapped parcel. “I baked these yesterday morning. I wasn’t sure what kind of nuts they’d have in the castle larders, so I couldn’t believe my luck when I found pistachios. They’re my favorite and I—”

“You baked them yourself? Why not leave such menial chores to the cooks? It is their job, and you are a guest in this land.”

“Because I love cooking—especially baking stuff. It’s my passion, and it fills me with joy; that’s why. Do you understand what I mean when I say that?” A smile that rivals the beauty of sunshine glows on her face.

“Yes. I think so. We fae have our obsessions too.” I don’t offer to tell her what mine are. Gazing at her now, skin shimmering in the dappled light, I wonder if I might be developing a new one.

The scent of wild bluebells permeates the air as she flops backward on the grass and smiles dreamily at the sky. “There’s nothing better than watching someone’s face when they first bite into something I’ve cooked, seeing how happy it makes them. Here, Raff, try one.”

Leaning on an elbow, she holds out a large biscuit. It’s specked with green lumps; the favored nuts she mentioned, I suppose. Or perhaps they’re something even more vile.

“Go on, try one,” she coaxes. “They’re much better hot and gooey straight out of the oven, but still pretty damn good like this.”

I wish to please her, but green things are a terrible trial for me to eat, a torture in fact. I’ve long frustrated the castle’s cooks by refusing dishes that contain wild sorrel, fennel, and spinach, and I can’t imagine green nuts will be palatable. Even so, I take the cookie and lift it to my lips. She stares at my mouth as I bite into it.

It tastes delicious. Crunchy on the outside, the moist inside dissolving on my tongue. I drop to my haunches next to her and smile, preparing to compliment her baking skills, but without warning, a sickening memory slams into my mind, shuddering through my flesh and bones.

Blood. Thick and black, bubbling from my brother’s mouth, the liquid creeping and spreading until I’m certain it will drown me. Rain’s death—I see it as if it is happening this very moment. I feel it as intensely as the day I witnessed it.

This vision cleaves my chest in half, scrapes it hollow, refilling it with blinding grief and the sharpest, deepest longing I have ever felt. The pain is so visceral I scramble to my feet.

My arms wrapping my stomach, I frown at Isla, shaking my head as she reaches for me, worry lining her face. “Raff? What’s wrong with you?”

I have no idea. But whatever the hell this is, I am certain she is causing it. Magic—hot, bright, and elemental. It emanates from the cookies in rippling waves, fire magic, only perceivable to those who can weave it themselves.

“I’ll be fine,” I say, which is the truth. Eventually this feeling will pass. “It’s naught but a wave of nausea, a residue of magic.” Her magic, not mine.

Unappeased, her gaze flits over my body, inspecting me.

I fight an urge to drag her close. I would do almost anything to drown this feeling in her warmth and light. I would beg at her feet. Promise her my crown, my city. Anything but my devotion.

Before she can question me further and draw out the truth, I stammer the first words that pop into my muddled brain. “I must go now. Ever waits for me. May I take some sweet treats for later?”

“Of course. So, you liked them? If you did, you can take the rest.” She holds out the parcel, and I bend to collect it.

I bite back the words: No, the truth is, I hated them. Or at least what they did to me.

“I have never tasted anything like your cookies before, Isla.” That’s certainly not a lie. “They were incredible.”

I want to leave here now. I have a theory, and I cannot wait to test it. But I dare not raise her suspicions. Not yet anyway.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You look…weird.”

“My thoughts are preoccupied, that is all.” I hope she does not ask by what. Gazing down at her as she sits with her travel bag in her lap, I sift through several subjects that might distract her from my peculiar episode, finally deciding on what must be the most boring question in the seven realms. “So, how did you sleep last night?” I ask, admiring her look of rumpled ruin—twigs and leaves crushed into her shining yellow hair.

“Not great. After the revel, there were a lot of weird noises in the dark, odd singing, screaming, and crying. It felt more like a war camp than a traveling wedding party.”

“Yes, fae processions are similar to a Wild Hunt. They begin tranquilly enough but quickly devolve. As you witnessed last night, all manner of unspeakable things happen under moon shadow. But do not worry. You and I should form an alliance. A truce, if you like. Then when you are under my protection, no creature, wild or tame, would dare harm you.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know I could not have chosen them more poorly.

Her eyes narrow, peachy cheeks darkening to scarlet.

Employing my latest talent—I’ve offended her again.

When will I learn to keep my mouth shut?

“I know you’ll find this idea shocking,” she says, her eyes flashing fire, “but I’m quite capable of looking after myself, and I certainly don’t need your assistance to stay safe.”

That cannot be true. She looks young, fragile compared to the creatures of the wild woods who will have her in their sights. “How many human years have you attained?”

“Is that your extremely odd way of asking how old I am?”

She is the one who speaks oddly, not me. Refusing to be baited, I nod.

“I’m eighteen.”

“Only eighteen? Then you have hardly any experience to speak of! You are a mere babe.”

“And how old are you, Mister wizened-old owl? Three thousand and seven?”

“In human years, I am twenty-two. But were I to count by fae time, well, the answer would be considerably more complicated.”

“Whatever.” She waves her hand in my direction as if she’s brushing away an insect. “Run along now, Prince Raff. I’ve had enough of your smugness for today.”

The nerve of this small human! “You ought to be careful how you—”

“Yes, fine, whatever you say. Time for you to go.”

She drops her head, foraging through her bag again, ignoring me.

In awe of her boldness, I stare for far too long before I gather my wits and head for the edge of the lake where Ever and Lara are camped.

“Good morning, Raff. What’s the hurry?” Lara asks, looking up from her teacup as I crash through the trees toward their breakfast party.

The group of three—Lara, Ever, and Magret—stare up at me from their picnic blanket while Merri leaps around them, trying to catch the dragonflies that flit above her head. Like a typical fae babe, she is sturdy and able-bodied beyond her young age.

“What excites you so, Brother?” asks Ever, shifting his dimpled smile my way. “Is it the thrill of living with the creatures of the woods again? Or does the memory of last night’s fire dance still run hot through your veins?”

“Hardly. You of all people know how the curse turns every occasion into a bore.” I thrust the cloth-wrapped sweets forward. “But let us not focus on such tedious things. Look—I’ve brought treats to tempt you with.”

“In case you’re wondering,” Ever says, the flash of his armor nearly blinding me. “Spark is with Balor. They’re fishing in the Lake of Spirits, even though they know it is forbidden.”

Everyone laughs fondly.

“I blame your mire fox, of course, Brother.”

“Rightly so,” I reply. “Thank the Elements your hound will bear her company. She’s been an insufferable nuisance since sunrise.” A nuisance I would gladly lay down my life for.

In the late-morning light, Magret looks like a woodland sprite, ethereal and pale against the picnic cloth’s richly embroidered falcons and owls. “We’ve eaten enough cheese and fruit to last us until tomorrow’s breakfast, Prince Rafael,” she says, her laughter tinkling like bells. “I could not eat another bite.”

And lo and behold—my experiment’s first subject has revealed herself—Magret who is always happy and never overcome with sadness.

“But, Magret,” I say as I crouch next to her. “Life can be short. My motto is to eat sweets whenever they are offered.” Summoning my most charming smile, I withdraw a cookie from its wrapping and offer it to her. “You say you have no appetite, but you will want to sample these. I’m certain of it. They were made by Lara’s cousin in our kitchens only yesterday morning. She is a very talented baker.”

“Oh, in that case, I would love a sample. Thank you.” She plucks one from the pile and takes a delicate bite. “Indeed they are delicious,” she says, crumbs sticking to her wide grin as she chews. She takes another bite, and another.

Suddenly, she gasps, her eyes filling with tears.

“Magret, what ails you?” I ask just as Ever reaches over and grabs a cookie, placing it in his mouth. This will be interesting.

“Nothing. It is nothing really,” she says. “It’s just…” Gut-wrenching sobs spill from her mouth. “I feel such terrible sadness. All I can think of is that one day my brother, Alorus, will die, and there is naught I can do to stop it.”

Alorus, with his mischievous yellow eyes and curling ram’s horns, is a great favorite of the ladies of the court, a charming troublemaker, and nowhere near close to his death age. “But your brother is young and hale,” I remind her, a chill prickling the flesh of my arms. “He will surely live for many thousand more moon turns.”

I glance at Ever who is staring at Merri with horror, his silver eyes glistening suspiciously. “Brother,” I say, “You look upset. What in the seven realms has come over you and Magret? I have never seen you both so stricken.”

Dark clouds sweep overhead, thunder rumbling. Grimacing, Ever rubs his eyes. “I don’t know. I can see Lara and Merri as they sit here smiling, but beneath their skin lies rotting flesh and desiccated bones. I see ghosts. Corpses. They will both pass from life one day, and I cannot bear the idea of losing them. I simply cannot.”

Lara’s arms wrap around his shoulders. “Yes, Ever, one day we will be dead and gone. It is the one thing all beings can be sure of. But as with Magret’s brother, our deaths shouldn’t mean a thing to you at this moment. We’re safe. I have power. Merri has power. We can’t be harmed easily. We’re not leaving you, my love. Not ever, if we can help it.”

Nodding as he scowls, he reaches absently for another cookie, and Lara slaps his hand aside. “No more of those. Isla’s sweets are delicious, but they can affect people strangely. These are weird, though, because usually her food makes them happy. I think she somehow unknowingly enchants it.”

I move to sit in front of Lara. “You knew about this? You should have warned us.”

“I was kind of joking.”

“This is no joke. These sweets draw forth a person’s greatest fear and drown them in the terror of it.”

Ever nods. “It’s true. That’s precisely how it feels.”

“I’ll speak with her.” Worry darkens Lara’s green eyes. “She must have some form of power here in Faery. Her natural talents are exaggerated, like my singing became the weapon that saved me from the draygonets. I’d bet anything she was thinking of something horrible when she baked these cookies. Until we work out what’s going on, don’t eat anything she makes.”

Yes. It is as I suspected. Isla’s magic is powerful. And quite possibly very useful.

I wrap up the sweets and stash them under my armor’s breastplate. “I shall save these for when the queen arrives.”

Ever and Lara freeze, staring at me in horror.

“What’s wrong? I cannot wait to see Mother’s cruel eyes spilling tears. No matter how hard I tried, never once as I child did I manage to make her cry.”

The sky rumbles again as Ever scowls. “Are you mad, Raff? Do you not realize the hell you wish upon us by desiring her tears? Her grief for Father and Rain fueled by the vast powers of her water magic could end us all, dispatching us to watery graves, her shrieks and howls tormenting us for all eternity.”

“Hm. Perhaps you are correct. I will bury these cookies in the ground.” I turn to rush off and do just that when a pertinent thought occurs to me. “Lara, why have you not told your cousin who she is to me? She needs to know her place in our story—what she must do to save our kingdom. Every time I speak of it, she acts as if I ask the impossible and gazes at me as though I am a madman.”

“Oh, Raff. It would be a bad move for me to bring that up with her. If you tell Isla she must do something, she’s the kind of person who’ll do the exact opposite. You need to forget the curse. Forget that she’s your queen and woo her. It’s the only way, believe me. She’s as stubborn as Ever is, possibly worse.”

In a mocking gesture, my brother raises his silver brow at me, his wide grin evil.

It seems that I am faced with difficult times ahead. Impossible times even. How does a prince who has never been rejected court a human who possesses her own fire magic and is not the least bit interested in him?

Realizing I am doomed, I lean my elbows on my leather-clad knees, hands raking through my hair in despair.

Lara pats my back. “Don’t worry, Raff. Isla’s not that bad.”

“She doesn’t even like me.”

“She will eventually. I’m sure of it. She won’t be able to resist the fire thing. And you’re just her type. You’re every girl’s type.”

Yes. I’m a cursed fae prince—a brilliant matrimonial prize. Who wouldn’t want me?