Hundreds of fae flew at different heights and speeds. Some flew leisurely, obviously not in a hurry to get anywhere as they traveled just over the rooflines. Others flew as fast as their flapping wings could carry them as they climbed high into the sky, probably hoping to avoid the busier altitudes below. Some carried bags. Many carried children. But regardless of where I looked, fairies were everywhere.
“So many fae,” I whispered, not even realizing I’d said it aloud until the prince responded.
“Over a million call Solisarium home.”
He’d continued to look irritated in the few times I’d caught glimpses of him, but his tone didn’t sound angry when he replied. I kept any further comments to myself, though, and returned to gazing at the capital and the castle ahead.
It wasn’t until we were almost at the castle’s boundary that I realized in the entire time the prince had been flying, he’d done so in a straight line. He’d never had to climb or dive or sweep out of the way to avoid the congested areas of flying citizens.
Everyone moved to the side for him.
My lips parted when I realized that. The prince’s giant, talon-tipped wings continued to flap while his gaze stayed trained straight ahead. Even though some fae stopped to hover and watch us, he didn’t greet anyone or show any signs of acknowledgment, and it wasn’t lost on me that more than a few made the sign of the Blessed Mother, as though hoping our land would protect them from any evil left in his wake.
And for the very first time, it struck me how incredibly hated the prince must feel. Everyone feared the Death Master, and fear often morphed into anger, revulsion, and then hate. Hatred was easier to feel than fear—I would know.
“Is something wrong?” the prince asked, not even slowing as we approached the outer ward of the castle’s protective barrier. Magic pulsed over my skin, even from a distance, as though warning any flying fae not to come near unless they wanted to experience the castle’s wrath.
“No, everything’s fine,” I said, doing my best to ignore his probing stare.
But as much as I tried to ignore the pang of curiosity that had filled me about the life the prince must have led, I couldn’t suppress it completely.
It seemed Prince Norivun wasn’t the only one who felt intrigued by the other.
CHAPTER 11
The minute we pushed through the castle’s protective ward, the sound of steel meeting steel clanged around us.
“Fuck,” the prince hissed under his breath.
He dropped from the sky, and my eyes widened at the horrific fight occurring by the castle’s outermost wall.
Two guards were lunging at each other viciously. Deadly blows nearly landed on each male as they sliced and danced around one another.
The prince touched down and released me in the same beat. I stumbled back as he strode toward them, his affinity rising as a ripple of his aura shot out. The guards surrounding the two fighting males all stumbled back, then fell to their knees in deep bows when the prince passed them.
“My prince, I’m sorry,” one of the guards called as he rushed after him. “I tried to stop them, but they’re fighting over—”
“Let me guess,” the prince seethed. “Lorinda, that barmaid?”
“Yes, my prince.”
The prince reached the two dueling guards, and one of them seemed to finally realize the storm cloud that was about to unleash, because he glanced away from his opponent.
It was enough of a distraction for the second guard to land a blow. The sound of flesh tearing, then a gurgle of blood erupting filled the courtyard. The prince stopped in his tracks, and my hands flew to my mouth as the guard fell.
His opponent’s sword had struck right at the base of his neck, severing part of his head. Blood pulsed in shooting sprays from the wound—a lethal injury unless a talented healer could be located immediately.
“Get Murl now!” the prince bellowed.
Several guards rushed away as two ran toward the fallen male.
“What in the realm is happening out here?” a portly, older male called, coming from across the yard as the prince rounded on the one who’d landed the blow.
“Not now, Lord Crimsonale,” Prince Norivun bit out as he faced the guard.
The young male backed up, dropping his sword as his righteous anger morphed into palpable fear, but I didn’t pay him or the approaching lord any further attention as my focus shifted to the fallen fairy, the one who was seconds away from dying.
A deep throbbing sensation started in my gut as a strange yearning began to fill me. And then the land was rushing past me as my feet carried me like the wind toward the fallen guard.
Everything happened as though time stood still. Breath rushed from my lungs. The throb in my belly grew. My attention focused with pinprick precision on the dying male.
I slammed into the crowd around him, pushing through the guards hovering at his side, fighting to reach the fallen male. I had to get to him. Had to help him. Had to—
“Out of the way, the lot of ya!” a male roared.
The commanding demand fell on my deaf ears. A shadow shimmered along the dying male’s form. My gaze was fixated on that shadow. I needed to—
Rough hands yanked me back just as the healer hunkered at the male’s side. The healer’s affinity rose swift and strong, clouding the nearly dead fairy as an awareness crept over me.
Something was rising from the dying male, like a translucent cloud. The throbbing in my belly increased just as the prince’s head snapped toward the dying male’s form, then to me.
My vision tunneled again, shrinking inward to that hovering essence. Hold it. Protect it.
I fought against the hands holding me, but then the prince was suddenly there, towering over me.
Disbelief swam in his eyes. “You’re—” His mouth snapped shut, but his eyes widened more and more. Blood drained from his face as though he’d seen a ghost.
A guard tried to yank me away as Lord Crimsonale watched us with narrowing eyes, but a deep growl vibrated the prince’s chest as he shot the guard a furious glare. “Release her. Now.”
The guard stumbled back as the chaos around the fallen guard increased. Magic surrounded the dying fairy, but Prince Norivun’s attention fixated entirely on my face. His gaze roamed over my features as his eyes swam with confusion, awe, and something . . . primal.
“And who is this, Prince Norivun?” Lord Crimsonale asked.
The prince snarled, and then his arms encircled me before we shot into the sky. He moved so fast that I couldn’t breathe. The ground rushed by as the castle’s yard disappeared behind us.
My breath stuttered. “What are you doing?” I gasped.
I tried to see over his shoulder. I had to know what became of that dying male, but the prince flew too quickly, and the sight was gone before I could blink.
I beat on the prince’s shoulder. “Why did we leave?”
I had to . . .
The prince’s hold tightened, his breaths coming rapidly.
“Why!” I yelled again.
But the prince ignored me as he descended over the castle’s inner buildings. Steam rose from boilers. Smoke curled from chimneys. Fae dressed in working gear scurried about. Dozens of servants tended to who knew what within the kingdom’s court as that guard was possibly dying.