He was so huge that I didn’t even reach his collarbones. Despite that, I gritted my teeth, determined not to let his intimidating presence deter me. “Why must I stay in the same room with you?”
He crossed his arms. “How many guards do I have?” I scoffed, at which he quirked an eyebrow. “This isn’t a trick question.”
I blew forcefully through my nose. “Fine. You have four guards, my prince.”
“And what do you suppose their job is?”
“To guard you when you’re unable to guard yourself.”
“Correct. Now don’t you suppose that they would also like to get some rest tonight?”
“Well, of course they would.”
“And do you really think that they’d be able to rest well if they were guarding me while I slept in one room and you while you slept in another? That would require two guards on each room during the night versus four guards on one room. I’ll leave the mathematics to you. I’m sure even your simple mind can deduce that they’ll get more sleep if there’s only one room to protect.”
I rolled my eyes. “So you’re actually claiming that you’re sharing a room with me to be less of a burden to your guards?”
He continued to stare down at me from his imposing height and didn’t respond.
Even though my hatred for the male still burned hotly inside me, a small part of me paused at his strange courteousness. As the crown prince, all he had to do was snap his fingers, and he would be granted any wish of his choosing. One would assume with that kind of entitlement, he would be selfish and uncaring, but apparently, he actually thought about his guards’ comfort.
Or it was all just a ruse to trick me.
Of course. It had to be a ruse.
The prince leaned down, and I could have sworn darkness gathered around him. “What’s the matter, Ilara Seary, daughter of Mervalee Territory? Does that surprise you so much? Does it not coincide with your preconceived notions of the Death Master?”
Even though his words dripped with sarcasm, I still detected something in his tone. Something that hinted at my reaction being what he was so used to hearing.
“I shall leave the latrine to you. Fresh clothes are on the bed.” He sidestepped me before I could stop a sliver of guilt from burning through me.
But any shame I’d felt at assuming he was horrible in every way was doused when a pile of clothes abruptly landed on my head.
I swung around to find him smirking.
“Did you really just throw my clothes at me?”
“No, I simply gave them to you.”
“You’re not a gentlefae at all.” I snatched the shirt off the floor that had fallen off my head.
“I figured I’d save you the trip back to the bed.”
Seething, I tucked the clothes under my arm and faced him as he doused one of the fairy lights. Since it was becoming apparent that I was sharing a room with him whether I liked it or not, I said, “Okay, fine. We’ll share a room, but tell me something, my prince. How do you know that I won’t harm you during the night?”
His gaze dipped, and he did a slow perusal of my body, his stare like the strength of a hundred suns, burning a path into me.
“Let’s see . . . you’re small, underweight, wingless, magicless, and most importantly, weaponless.” He stroked his chin as he lifted the covers with his free hand. “If you were actually able to kill me in my sleep, I would deserve it for being so weak.”
“So I’m too minuscule to be a threat? I see.” Thankfully, my reply came out haughty because inside, I was dying with embarrassment. The prince was right. Even if I managed to secure a weapon, I wouldn’t know how to use it.
“Now, are you satisfied?” He sank onto the mattress while his wings bent to accommodate him. “Or do you have more questions I need to address before I finally go to bed?”
I clenched my teeth. “One last question, my prince. Why must we share a bed?”
“Because there’s only one.”
“Can’t you sleep on the floor?”
He settled the covers over his bare chest, and his rounded shoulders stayed visible over the top while his giant wings seemed to take up half the mattress.
“Why would I do that?”
Blessed Mother . . . I made myself count to ten before responding. “Because we’re not sharing a bed, my prince. And since I’m the one who’s been taken captive and held prisoner for no discernible reason, I think the least you can do is give me the bed while you take the floor.”
“Why would we do that when this bed is more than large enough for us both?”
“Just get on the damn floor!”
His eyes widened, and the bastard actually looked like he was going to laugh. “I believe you’re my subject, and I’m the one who gives the orders.”
“And I believe you know I’m in the right, and you should act like a gentlefae.”
He leaned back, his lips splitting into a wide smile. “I thought we’d already established that I’m not a gentlefae.”
A shiver ran through me when a cloud of his magic drifted toward me. Power. Might. Horrible destruction. It was all rolled into one misty essence that he’d unleashed. The sheer presence of the male—even from across the room—threatened to consume me.
Yet . . . a part of me wondered if that was who he truly was. It could all be a show. Perhaps he played this heartless role because everyone assumed it was who he was, me included.
Frowning, I realized accommodating his guards didn’t play into my preconceived notion of his brutality.
But before I could form a coherent reply, his magic dissipated, and the prince turned on his side and doused the last light. “We leave at sunrise to finish the trip to Solisarium. I suggest you stop yammering and go to sleep.”
I sputtered, once again unable to form a reply when the creak of the bed broke the silence. He shifted into a comfortable position while his wings relaxed behind him.
I spun toward the latrine and slammed the door behind me. I couldn’t be sure, but I could have sworn that a faint deep chuckle came from the room, which only confirmed he was a heartless monster, and my brief hesitation to believe anything but had been foolish.
Sighing, I knew that meant one thing. I would be taking the floor.
CHAPTER 9
“Please, my prince. Please! I beg of you. Don’t kill us. Spare us! We have children. Two daughters remaining. They need us. They’ll starve without us!”
My parents’ pleas filled the throne room of the Court of Winter. But instead of King Novakin staring down at them from his icy throne, it was his son, the crown prince, whose judgment reigned.
“Silence,” Prince Norivun commanded. His giant wings draped behind him, the huge black leathery appendages in complete contradiction to the whites and blues of the court’s inner room.
My father dipped his head. “Please, my prince. My daughters will starve. My youngest, Ilara, has only just started working full-time in the fields, and my other, Cailis, has only been working them one winter. They’re lowest on our village’s pay. Without my income to help support them—”
“I said, silence!” the prince roared.
My father’s lips clamped shut as my mother wept beside him. Both were on their knees, their features twisted in pain as they faced their judgment.