FULL NOVELXO Prince of Then: Chapter 12
Gade
more elegantly for traveling through your land,” says the human behind me in the saddle, her fingers digging into my sides like tiny claws. “Even the deer in Faery are wearing jewels in their antlers as they trot along through the scrub.”
I grunt. “Wait until you see the bark and leaf capes on the badgers that roam the woods near the castle. They’re a very cunning design.”
“You’re joking,” she says.
“Not at all. But even though they pay the moss elves who are fine nature weavers to make them, they look fairly ridiculous. Please don’t tell the badgers I said that. They’re very sensitive creatures.”
Warmth infuses my chest as she laughs, its uplifting effect on my mood disturbing. I straighten my spine and remind myself I should be contemplating how to find my fated mate instead of trying to entertain a mortal, no matter how intriguing she is.
Late-afternoon sunshine illuminates the overgrown path through the darkening woods. My eyes ache from sifting through the shadows for threats, and my ears ring from the constant assault of the mortal’s endless questions about the land and the kingdom she’ll soon be entering.
Since her proximity produces a subtle but constant charge of power that helps me navigate and bend the forest to my will as we travel, the benefit of her body pressed against mine far outweighs any disadvantages of being distracted by it.
“I’m so exhausted I might fall off Wren’s back,” she says, strangling me as she tugs hard on my cloak.
“Then wrap your arms tightly around my waist. We’ll soon make camp on the eastern bank of Fire River, where Merrin Creek crosses it.”
I don’t know why I tell her this information because it is as useful to her as the location of her village well is to me.
“Lleu, scout ahead,” I command. “Check for signs of trolls. We don’t want to encounter them during hunting season if we can help it. And I’m too tired to put up much of a fight tonight.”
From his perch on the bronze plate of my shoulder armor, he lifts into the air with a strong flap of wings that makes the girl gasp, then soars above the trees, heading in a north-westerly direction.
Holly sighs and presses her cheek between the blades of my shoulders, and before long, her slow, rhythmic breathing tells me she has fallen into slumber. Perhaps she, too, struggled to sleep in that narrow bed last night.
I dig my fingers into the collar of my tunic, seeking relief from the sudden uncomfortable heat that scratches at my neck and chest.
When we arrive at a small clearing by the creek, the sun is a molten red and purple ball burning low through the trees, and Lleu’s hunting calls cut through the air as he catches his dinner in the last of the light.
“Dismount,” I say as Wren draws to a halt. “This is where we’ll stop for the night.”
Surprisingly, she swings her leg over his back without an argument and slides to the ground. I jump down after her, check Wren’s temperature, and then hang a bag of oats around his head, rubbing his neck as I murmur my thanks for his exertions today.
I glance at the girl. “If my magic was stronger, I could set up camp in no time.” I turn and stare without blinking, waiting for her to offer her lips as a recharge source, but she remains silent and unmoving.
Such a strange girl. Most humans would leap at an excuse to kiss a faery prince. I huff out a breath, recalling that she thinks I am a lowly palace guard. Even so, she should still find me irresistible.
“Unfortunately, without magic, we’ll have to do the tasks the hard way,” I say. “Manually. I shall collect wood for the fire, and when Wren is finished eating, you can lead him to the river to drink his fill. Then bring him back and clear this area of sticks and stones.” With my finger, I draw a circle above the ground around us.
Instead of leaping into action, she only stares as if my directions are nonsensical.
Grinding my teeth, I say, “We need a clear space for the fire and a smooth area of earth to sleep upon. Do you think you can assist? Or must I do everything myself?”
“If you think you can trust a human to complete the tasks to your exacting standards, then certainly.”
I grunt and begin to walk away, then stop in my tracks and peer back at her. “What did you say?”
She swats a hand at me like I’m an insect. “Nothing. I’m tired and grumpy and the jibe is beyond you, I’m sure.”
Shaking my head, I leave her guzzling from a waterskin and walk into the thicket of trees that glow silver in the dusk. I focus my mind on the rising breeze, attempting to control it with my thoughts. The wind howls, buffeting me hard against a dryad whose body rests inside the trunk of a massive oak.
“Forgive me,” I tell him.
He folds in half, bowing his bark-crowned head to his feet as I pass, and says, “Of course, my king,” in a rasping voice.
I’m not your king yet, I think. But soon. All I need is the girl who will make it so.
When I return to the clearing, my arms filled with small logs and branches, Wren and Holly aren’t there. I shrug and commence work.
After I finish setting the fire, I stroll to the creek and find my horse eating grass by the bank and the girl up to her knees in the water with her skirts hiked up and her stockings and boots strewn carelessly over the mossy rocks near the edge.
Too busy splashing her face and shrieking at the cold, she doesn’t notice me arrive, nor does the silly girl realize she has just alerted half the creatures in the land of our presence.
As I draw a sharp breath to admonish the mortal, Lleu swoops low over her head, making her long sandy hair fly in the gust of air. For a moment, I’m transfixed by the sight, then jolted out of my daze when she falls face-first into the water, emitting another loud yelp.
In a burst of churning froth, a kelpie’s dark head surfaces, its black mane a tangle of weeds and its teeth chattering as it spies what it imagines will be an easy dinner—my human.
Not while I am here, demon. Black fury clouds my mind and grips my muscles. If the kelpie touches even a hair on the girl’s head, I will destroy it.
“Holly, get out now,” I yell, leaping down the bank and into the water.
She stumbles to her feet. “What… why?”
“Get out now or be eaten by a water horse.”
She peers over her shoulder. The beast rides toward her on a violently surging wave of river magic, hoping to sweep her under and away from me forever.
Over my dead body.
“Gade,” she cries out, scrambling toward me.
I catch her around the waist and cradle her skull, pulling her close. She nods, knowing exactly what I need. Our lips lock together for three heartbeats, and sweet, heady power rushes through my veins.
I push her behind me. “Quickly, go. Get on the bank. Now.”
Cracking the bones in my neck, I face the shrieking creature. My palms shoot out, and I focus my energy on the cresting wave, forcing it to recede. Stunned at the strength of my renewed power, it takes barely any effort to subdue the beast’s magic.
The kelpie’s body sinks below the surface, its thrashing head still visible. With my hand raised to keep it immobile, I stride through the water, seize its bridle of matted reeds in my fist, and drag its head close to mine.
I whisper in its flattened ear, “Bow to your prince. Do it now, and if you execute it well, in this instance, I may spare your life. You have one chance to survive, kelpie. And if you ever… ever try to touch what is mine again, you will pay a terrible price for the pleasure.”
It bows its head low, the dark mane swirling through the steaming water. “Prince of Five, stay your hand, for I will pledge allegiance to you and none other for a thousand cycles of the moon, but not one day more.”
Fisting its hair, I shake it hard, its rotten teeth clattering in the long horse-like skull. “And this girl behind me?”
“She is yours and always will be. Never will I seek to touch your property, Gadriel Castle-breaker.”
“Good enough.” I let the slippery bridle slide through my fingers. “Be gone. And if you come near these banks again, I’ll know it.”
It whickers softly, backing away with downcast eyes before disappearing beneath the water with a thunderous crack of its tail.
“What in the fiery pits was that?” the human asks, her voice breaking as she shivers in her soaked-through clothes.
“A kelpie.” Intrigued by the way the wet fabric of her dress embraces her curves, I wade out of the creek and join her on the bank.
Fae lords and ladies are more often than not reed thin and ethereal of body. This human is solid and voluptuous in an earthy way that for some reason, sets my mouth to watering.
“I’ve heard of them,” she says. “They can shapeshift and appear as beautiful men or women to seduce mortals… they’re myths.”
“They also eat them. And as you saw with your own eyes, they are as mythical as I am. You were stupid to enter the water alone, human.”
“You could have warned me.”
“I didn’t think you’d be foolish enough to bathe in the gloaming. All fae know it’s the favored time for wild creatures to attack.”
“I’m fae now, am I?”
My fists clench as I shoulder past her toward the camp. Wren follows me immediately, but of course the human stays behind for the sheer pleasure of being difficult.
I stop walking and call over my shoulder, “When the cannibal eydendric elves come out of the woods to bid you good eve, give them my best, then waste no time drawing your herb-cutting knife because I promise that you’ll need it. I hope it’s up to the task of keeping you alive.”
A yelp pierces the air, then footsteps pound the earth as she quickly catches up to me.
Back at the camp, I remove some of the food Mern packed from the saddlebags for our dinner, a thought nagging at me. Why did the kelpie call me Gadriel Castle-breaker? It’s an odd name and one I’ve never been called before.
I sort through memories, songs, and poems and find nothing that explains the strange moniker. Blowing out a hard breath, I decide to let it go. Likely the creature just hoped to rattle me, and I shouldn’t allow such base trickery to affect me.
The girl catches the dried meat and bread I throw at her, and I tip my chin at the log I’ve drawn close to the fire, directing her to sit on it.
Kneeling in front of her, I twist my fingers into her hair, causing her to emit a loud gasp. “Apologies,” I say as I tug her face close and press my lips to hers before she has a chance to protest.
Heat blisters my skin, and I rise quickly, flicking sparks from my fingers toward the kindling, flames roaring to life. She scowls as if I’ve done her grievous harm, when in fact, it’s the exact opposite. I, the prince of Talamh Cúig, am taking care of her—a mere mortal—a remarkable occurrence, since the curse ensures I barely give a fig these days about anyone or anything. She should be crawling in my wake and thanking me profusely.
“You need to get warm before you freeze to death,” I mutter by way of explanation for stealing her kiss.
Placing the food on the log beside her, she shuffles closer to the fire, her movements slow and quiet, indicating residual shock, hopefully due to the incident with the kelpie, not from my kiss.
When I hand her a blanket, she thanks me and wraps it around her shoulders.
I frown. “No. You must take your clothes off, and then put it around you. Otherwise, the blanket will become damp, you’ll generate no body warmth and freeze to death. Truly, human, ’tis a wonder you’ve survived all these years without me. How old are you, by the way?”
“Almost twenty years.”
Fire-lit amber eyes stare back at me, framed by a star-studded mantle of black sky, but she makes no move to follow my directions. This one is not only stubborn, but foolish and ridiculous to the point of endangering herself.
I sigh. “Do it now or suffer days in a sick bed with only me to tend you.”
“Fine, then. Turn around.”
With a shrug, I go over to Wren, rub him down, remove his tack, and then check his hooves. As I work, the slap of clothes hitting the grass pricks my ears, but I keep my back turned. My mouth waters with a strange hunger, but I breathe slowly and dispel it.
“All right. You can turn around now,” she says, as if I need a mortal’s permission to do anything.
We eat our meal in silence, staring into the flames, the forest’s shadows, and the net of stars floating above—anywhere but at each other. A fox cries in the distance, followed by the more unsettling sounds of wild fae on the hunt.
After promising not to go far and taking Lleu to watch over her, she disappears into the trees to perform her lowly human functions, returning as I bid Wren good night. Lleu flies into the tree above us, settling in to watch for danger as we sleep.
Wringing her hands, the girl grimaces at the single bedroll I’ve spread out near the fire. “Gade, where’s mine?”
“Your what?” I take a drink of water before packing the skin away.
“My bedding.”
“Unless you choose to kiss me all night long, I don’t have the strength to keep the fire ablaze, therefore, you must take warmth with me in my bedroll.”
“With you? But my clothes haven’t dried yet.”
As I picture the blanket falling to the ground and what she might look like unclothed, a sudden breeze whips my hair across my face, tangling it around my throat. I frown at the unbidden flash of air magic and the surprising effect this human has on my powers.
A smug smile teases my lips. “You must be naked so we can exchange body heat. Normally, I sleep clothed while traveling. It’s safer in case I need to leave in a hurry or rise to fight. But tonight, to keep you warm, I will make an exception and sleep unclothed.”
Even by firelight, I see the color blanch from her cheeks. My fingers go to my sword belt, working it loose.
“Stop. I can’t imagine anything more mortifying than to lie naked next to you.”
“Could you not?”
“I’d rather die.”
“Then you may very well get your wish.”
The chattering of her teeth makes my jaw clench hard. She must be made warm and quickly, too, if she hopes to be well enough to stay on Wren’s back all day tomorrow.
Looking miserable, she pulls the blanket more tightly around her shoulders and shifts her weight from boot to boot. “Do you promise you won’t touch me?”
“Impossible. We’ll be lying side by side, my body warming yours, keeping you alive, in fact.”
“But no more of the… kissing business you claim feeds your magic.”
Claim? As if I would make up a story to justify putting my lips on hers. If I want to kiss her, I will, and she will beg for more. “Fine. There will be none of this kissing business, as you call it.”
“Do you promise?”
“Yes.” I throw my hands up, then rake them through my hair, tugging harder than necessary. “By the Elements Five, I swear that I will not only keep my trousers on, but I vow not to touch you any more than is necessary for our comfort and survival. Is that sufficient?”
“Yes. Thank you. Now turn around while I take my shoes off and get in.”
Fireflies dance through moonlit branches as I hold my breath.
Waiting.
And waiting.
Turn, the poison says. Do what you wish. You are a prince and will soon be the king.
But I have promised to be good, and good I must be. At the very least, I will try to be so.
Snarling, I banish the curse’s voice, form images in my mind of locking it behind the cage of my ribs, then passing the ancient key to the human, placing it in her warm palm.
What?
No.
What a stupid thing to imagine. Why would I ever give her anything of importance?
Rolling kinks from my shoulders, I concentrate on the fireflies. Their bright streams of light trail through inky darkness, winding around branches, as rustling sounds tell me the human is making herself comfortable in my bed.
I clench my fists, but I don’t turn around, visions of what she might look like torturing and taunting me.
Rosebud lips.
Dusky skin.
More sweet buds on her chest, and elsewhere… soft, dewy petals unfolding.
Stop it, I tell myself. What you want is impossible.
Swallowing hard, I drop my sword belt on the ground, still not looking, still obeying her.
This is foolish. I am acting the fool. Who is the ruler of this land? Me or a fragile parcel of mortal flesh and bones?
“I’m turning around,” I say, beginning to unbuckle plates of leather armor, unstrap knives from my waist and chest, all the while keeping my gaze on the ground as if I’m an obedient, humble slave and long for nothing more than her approval. I huff a laugh out.
What is wrong with me?
I unfasten the top strings on my pants.
“But you said—” she begins, obviously watching my every move. As I long to watch hers.
“Calm down. To please you I shall leave the trousers on. I have no plans to ravish you… tonight.”
No, no plans, only a barrage of images assaulting me, showing me every detail of what such an endeavor might entail. How well I’d need to restrain and control myself. The way I’d need to treat her like a precious, irreplaceable object to keep from breaking her.
Carefully, I climb in beside her, my limbs sliding against her shivering body. She tries to shuffle away from my bare chest and draw her hips back, but it’s no use. There’s nowhere she can go in this bed of sewn-together blankets to escape my touch. And she needs my warmth to survive the shock of her encounter with the kelpie almost more than she needs air to breathe.
That is what I tell myself, at least.
Shudders rack her frame, the chattering of her teeth unbearable to my ears.
“Holly, if you will allow me to kiss you… only for a moment or two, I can keep the fire going longer and make you warmer.”
“No.”
Sighing, I press my chin against the top of her head and draw her into my arms. “Then you will have to suffer my embrace.”
“Gade, I don’t think—”
“Shush. Relax. I won’t hurt you.”
Her fists curl against my chest, her heart beating like a caged robin’s as her panted breath dampens my skin. Touching her like this arouses a buzz of power, which I wrangle from the debauched direction it wishes to flow in and instead focus, using it to calm her, soothing her to sleep.
After a while, her muscles loosen, her breath slows, and just when I think she is drifting off to sleep, she looks up at me and touches my face.
“Why do fae have such long, pointed ears?” she asks. “Do they feel like human ears?”
“Touch them and find out.”
Her cold fingers tentatively stroke the edge of my ear.
“Does the shape mean you can hear better than humans do?”
“Of course. Faeries surpass mortals in all ways.”
Sharp nails pinch the tip of my ear with ruthless vigor. I hide a grin, and she massages the place she pinched, cringing and no doubt wondering if I’ll retaliate.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you. I was curious to know if they’re sensitive.”
I grunt. “They are sensitive but… not to pain.”
She blushes at that and snatches her hand away, tucking it against my chest.
Firelight flickers over her face, and I trail my fingertip down her nose. “I have many questions about your features. For example; why do humans have flat faces with cheekbones like juicy apples?”
“I’ve never thought of my face as flat before. But compared to faeries, I can see how you might think mine bland.”
“Bland? No. In truth, I’m rather taken with your features. They are… charming.”
Elements, please freeze my rambling tongue, for it has developed an alarming mind of its own.
I study the crescent moon above, flashing yellow as though it mocks me with a wink. When I first saw the mortal beneath the Crystalline Oak, if I’d known she would cause me to speak such drivel, I would have run at great speed in the opposite direction.
“Sleep now,” I say, trying to glamor her into submission before I do something I’ll regret. “Tomorrow we’ll travel toward Mount Cúig where the four rivers of my kingdom originate from. Picture them in your mind as you drift off, winding north, south, east, and west from the Lake of Spirits cradled in a wide volcanic mountain, a sacred place to our people. Let your mind flow along with these magical waters and carry you to the realm of gentle slumber.”
To my surprise, she follows my instructions without protest, and within moments, she is asleep in my arms, her flesh warm and long locks of hair a silky torment against my skin.
Like a babe, she sleeps tranquilly, believing she is protected and safe. But little does she understand the danger she will be in as we travel closer to my kingdom.
In Faery, humans are not safe.
Never have been.
Never will be.
And certainly not with the greatest monster in the land developing an unhealthy obsession with her—that is me—the cursed Black Blood Prince of Five.