The village archon straightened, and even though his wings stayed tucked in, he lifted them slightly, putting their impressive height on full display. “We yielded twenty percent more this month than last.” Vorl’s tone turned boastful, as if he’d been the one bent over all day, farming the land, tending to the crops, and was personally responsible for our village’s prosperity. “It’s been a successful transition from summer, more so than last season.”
The prince’s eyebrows drew together. “And your techniques, have you been doing anything differently?”
Vorl cocked his head. “No, my prince. We continue to labor as we always have.”
The prince scanned the room again, except this time, his attention focused on each and every laborer, his steely gaze zeroing in on one individual at a time, as though if he stared hard enough, he could see through each villager to the heart of who they really were.
Shallow breaths lifted my chest as my gaze dropped to the floor. Despite the fury swirling in my gut, I didn’t move, even though internally I was envisioning rising from my seat, dashing across the room, and smashing the prince’s face in with Vorl’s club before the Bringer of Darkness could blink. It was such a violent thought, so unlike me, but I hated this male.
Cailis’s grip tightened, and I couldn’t help but wonder if my sister was also envisioning rage-filled vengeance.
Minutes ticked by as the prince assessed everyone. There were so many of us that I wondered why he bothered. Like Vorl said, our yields were up. Our village was supplying what the court demanded, so it made no sense that the prince was here interrogating us and questioning our techniques.
Heat crawled up my neck when I felt the weight of Prince Norivun’s gaze finally land on me. It was as though it had an actual presence, as if his magic spiraled toward me on a beam, falling upon my scarfed head in a blaze of might as I waited in a submissive bow.
But instead of shifting his interest to Cailis, Birnee, or Finnley, the prince’s attention didn’t falter. Instead, I felt every ounce of his powerful aura focus on me with numbing clarity.
Nobody moved as his heavy footsteps started up. First one step, then two, then three, and more and more as he crossed the planked floorboards in a quickened pace.
The tips of his black boots suddenly appeared in my line of sight. He ground to a halt right in front of me.
A bead of sweat trickled down my back even though I wasn’t hot, but the energy radiating from the prince continued to cloud me, like a shroud that threatened to smother my breath. I squeezed my eyes shut as power radiated from him in waves, and not for the first time, I understood why the continent feared him. I’d never felt this much magic from anyone in my life, not even Vorl.
My earlier visions of besting the prince before he could react withered and died. It was such a foolish dream to have, something a child would romanticize. But I wasn’t a child anymore. I was twenty-four winters, magicless, wingless, weak, and more of a burden to my village than an asset, yet I’d been born here and was one of them despite my defective state, so I tried my hardest to be useful.
Most had come to accept me for who I was, and the teasing and bullying from my youth had faded as the other fae grew and matured and realized that they actually pitied me, well, almost all of them. Some of the nastier ones still made comments, and then there was Vorl . . .
Still, every day I tried as hard as I could to prove my worth, even though the Mother hadn’t blessed me with much.
But here, before the Bringer of Darkness, I felt every ounce of my lacking magic that my slight form didn’t hold.
I was nothing before this male.
“Look at me, female,” he commanded, his tone irritated and short.
Cailis’s nails dug into me as I slowly lifted my head. My gaze crawled over the prince’s thick boots, heavily muscled thighs, flat waist, and broad chest. Everything he wore was decadent and fine. Thousands of tiny stitches interlaced the thick cloth of his black tunic that looked so smooth and warm that I knew it was spun from the finest wool. Intricate embellishments adorned the leather straps crossing his chest and back and were so perfectly sewn that they could only have come from a tailor blessed with a creation affinity.
A glint of metal peeked out from behind his toned waist, and I realized he carried swords on each side of him, one beneath each of his talon-tipped black wings.
Yet the prince wore such finery as though it were nothing. As if it were trivial given his casual stance and ticking annoyance that I hadn’t met his gaze yet.
My jaw clenched again, but I refused to show any emotion. I would not cower in front of him even though I knew he could end me with only a thought.
With a final lift of my head, I met his stare unflinchingly and filled with boldness.
Cobalt irises that sparkled like twin pools of stars stared down at me. His eyes narrowed, and a moment of clarity hit me at the insolence I was showing the crown prince.
Cailis dug her nails tighter into me, and I flinched, but it was enough of a warning—a reminder—of what this male was capable of.
Thankfully, it snapped me back to my senses because the last thing I wanted was to die today, which would leave my sister alone with no family left to speak of.
“My prince.” I dipped my head and averted my gaze. A tiny notch was grooved into his chin, the only imperfection on his smooth skin.
The four male guards who’d accompanied the prince still stood by the door, their stances casual as they leaned against the doorframe and barn walls, yet their alert expressions told me they missed nothing.
The prince’s firm yet full lips pressed together, and my attention shifted to his mouth. Of course, he would not only be the Death Master of the continent but an absolutely beautiful fae male at that. It made me hate him even more.
“Stand.” His single command fell with such authority that I knew he was used to being obeyed without question.
Cailis gave me one last warning squeeze before releasing me, and I quickly slipped my legs over the bench to rise before him.
I kept my back straight and my eyes on his chin, but I still had to crane my neck back. Even standing tall and square, I barely came to his collarbones.
For the briefest moment, his gaze drifted to my throat, to the area clouded in Vorl’s illusion affinity that hid my bruises.
“Remove your scarf.”
My heart lodged in my throat. “My prince?”
His eyes hooded, and a wash of irritation radiated from him. “Remove. Your. Scarf.”
A flurry of whispers erupted around the room, but a sharp yell from Vorl had them quietening.
I darted a look at my sister, then Birnee, and finally Finnley. They all stared at me wide-eyed, as the fear on my sister’s face grew.
With trembling fingers, I lifted my hands to the back of my neck and slowly undid the knot that held my scarf in place.
When the scarf fell, my hair tumbled down my shoulders and around my breasts in a shameful ebony waterfall.
The prince didn’t move. His gaze was unflinching as his attention traveled over my winged eyebrows, the tips of my ears, and then down the length of my hair.
Every villager sat frozen around us.
With a swift turn on his heel, the crown prince of the Winter Court gave me his back.
My eyes widened as I took in the thickest wings I’d ever seen. The height of those appendages was higher than any wings I’d ever encountered.