I took a step away from him and then another, as the realization cut me to the quick that the sensations I’d just experienced were what it felt like to be in the presence of the prince’s releasing affinity. My hand flew to my mouth as my breath seized. Was that what my parents and brother had felt when the prince enacted his affinity on them? Were those narrowed, crystalline blue eyes the last thing they saw before his affinity sucked their souls?
Tears flooded my eyes. One slid down my cheek as a sob wracked my chest. The urge to vomit grew.
“That fairy didn’t stand a chance. But why? Why kill him? The prince could have restrained him. That male didn’t need to die.”
Haxil’s brow furrowed, his expression turning guarded. “Have you ever tried to take a fairy with an ice bear affinity into custody?”
All I could manage was to shake my head. I was breathing so fast. Too fast.
“Then you don’t know it’s near impossible to do so safely.”
Near impossible, but not impossible? But I couldn’t voice the question. I couldn’t speak at all. Blessed Mother, my family had suffered what I’d just witnessed.
Inside the house, Mealow’s wails rose. “He’s dead,” she said. “He’s dead. He’s dead.” Her sobs rose higher, a piercing cry that seemed to echo down the valley.
“But your son’s not. He’s alive because your husband’s dead.” A disgusted snarl tore from the prince. “Ryder, seek a healer, now!”
A whoosh of air shot against my wet cheeks as the warrior fairy came careening from around the back of the house. Nish and Sandus immediately maneuvered to cover the gap that his departure left.
Dozens of villagers were now out of their homes, standing in the street, watching the spectacle unfold around them. A few glanced my way, raking over my frame.
“Who’s she?” one hissed.
“Probably his whore,” another replied under his breath.
A flare of shame crept over me even though I was anything but the prince’s whore, but the sneers in the crowd grew as did their looks of fear and revulsion. But those sneers weren’t just for me. They were for Prince Norivun himself.
Ignoring them, Ryder called, “Who’s a healer?”
Nobody moved.
Ryder’s long braid whipped around his shoulder when he bared his teeth. “That young male is one of your own! Who will save him?”
A few shuffled their feet, then a slim boy pushed through the crowd. “I will, my lord.”
The boy didn’t have full wings—they were only half-formed. He was still in the midst of maturing, which meant his healing affinity had probably only recently manifested.
“I’m not a lord,” Ryder replied, then gave him a once-over. “Do you know how to use your affinity yet?”
The boy’s shoulders squared. “I’m learning, sir. I can help.”
“There’s no one else,” an older female said, her arm curling around the boy’s shoulders. “But my son’s proven to be a quick learner. He’ll save Mealow’s boy.”
Ryder picked the child up in one strong arm before sailing back to the house. Mealow still wept over her dead husband, tears pouring down her cheeks.
Watching, I dried my eyes and struggled to compose myself as I waited for Mealow to shift her attention away from her dead husband to her unconscious son who still lay listless on the floor.
“Isn’t she worried about her boy?” I finally managed.
Haxil crossed his arms. “On some level, probably, but her reaction is typical in cases like this. Even though her husband’s dead, her concern lays with the abuser. Some fae become dependent on the abuser, and the toxic cycle that forms between them is like an addictive potion in itself. She’ll probably continue to mourn for him over the coming days instead of sitting at her son’s bedside.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly so chilled my entire body trembled. Haxil spoke as if he had experience with such matters. “Do you suppose she regrets going to the prince for help?”
“Probably.” Haxil eyed the crowd. Dozens of scornful, wary fae stared back at us. “Everyone thinks it’s a good idea to have the Death Master on their side until they see the absolute destruction that he’s capable of.”
CHAPTER 7
The young healer’s inexperience was apparent when he struggled to save Mealow’s son, but after minutes of trying and refusing to give up, the teenage boy was finally able to slow the bleeding.
It took another aching moment for the injured male to open his eyes, but when he did, his foggy gaze slid around the room. When he beheld the crown prince hovering above him and his mother weeping over his father’s dead frame, he sat up, wincing.
“Keep working on him,” the prince said to the young healer. “His wing’s broken from the looks of it, and that gash on his head probably means he sustained a concussion. And if your magic is deep enough, his mother also has a torn wing to tend to.”
The boy dipped his head. “Yes, Your Highness.”
I lurched back from the house when the prince burst through the front door. A thunderous expression scoured his features, and that look only strengthened when he saw me. I had no idea if he was angry that I’d tried to intervene, or if he was pissed off about having to deal with the attack, but fire burned in his eyes—a white-hot fire that turned them an icy blue.
I took a fearful step away from him as my breath quickened.
A low growl rumbled in the prince’s chest, and then his gaze cut to my neck, his attention fixating on the area where Vorl had choked me. With a tight clench of his jaw, he pivoted and strode back toward the path, not saying a word to anyone.
My heart pattered even faster. I felt like a trisilee on the verge of a heart attack and was certain everyone could hear my pulse. That belief only increased when Haxil ushered me after the prince, and all of the villagers’ stares shifted from Prince Norivun to me.
Their questioning assessment, confusion, and disgust hit me all at once. Unlike a pre-pubescent child, who one would expect to be wingless, I was a fully grown fairy, and their morbid interest made heat creep up my neck.
“She must be a strange sort of defective,” a female hissed to her friend.
“But defectives still have wings. Where are hers?” the friend replied.
“Maybe he shaved them off.” The first gestured toward the prince.
The other nodded. “He would do something like that. Evil, that one. Pure evil.”
The male standing behind them snorted. “She probably didn’t ride his cock hard enough, and he clipped her wings in punishment.”
His friend elbowed him, then snickered. “You think that’s why her clothes are so dirty too? Punishment? Or do you think he likes his whores filthy?”
The female in front sniffed. “Disgraceful, the lot of them.”
I shot them all a glare, but their sniggering continued. I didn’t know what was worse. The truth or their conclusion that I was the prince’s whore, and he’d shaved my wings in punishment for a poorly executed fuck session.
But obviously, the truth wasn’t even on their radar. The prince hadn’t shaved my wings. I’d just never developed them. That truth had made shame follow me my entire life, even though I tried to accept myself for who I was. But the truth still hurt. I was the only adult Solis fairy, as far as I knew, that had never grown wings. And considering my age, I never would.