“Actually, I was thinking we could all mingle in here. It’s more fun to speak in groups, don’t you think, Lady Endalaver? In fact, I was thinking we should start doing that at these dinners more often.” Prince Norivun didn’t wait for her reply and instead stalked toward where Lord Waterline and I sat.
“Lady Seary, may I refresh your wine?” the prince asked, his tone biting as he glared at Lord Waterline.
“Oh, I can do that.” Lord Waterline pushed his chair back, but the crown prince shoved his foot behind the chair’s leg, halting his movement.
“Allow me, really. It’s no bother.” The crown prince pulled back my chair and extended his hand even though my wine glass had just been refilled.
Lady Endalaver fumed from her end of the table.
Crackling energy surrounded the prince. He watched me. Waiting. Storm clouds raged in his sapphire irises.
I eyed his hand. Enough time had passed since the council meeting that my anger wasn’t as acute, but it didn’t stop how he viewed me. I was still his servant to command. His object to own. Despite nearly begging him to ask his father to release me from the Trial, he hadn’t.
Still . . .
I glanced at my date. Lord Waterline gave me a sultry smile.
Ock. I took the prince’s outstretched hand. The lesser of two evils.
Once I was standing at the prince’s side, he firmly hooked my hand through his elbow. A rush of awareness billowed through me at that simple touch. Side by side, he glided us toward the corner of the room where a selection of wine bottles waited.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said under his breath as his aura rose.
“I have?” I replied innocently.
“You have, and you know it. I wish it to stop.”
My teeth ground together. “And I wish not to be here having to suffer through these horrible dates. I suppose we all have wishes that will never come to pass, don’t we?”
“What have I done that’s so horrible to make you avoid me for a week?”
“Other than reminding me that I’m simply an object you own who you can command at your will? Nothing.”
He stopped in his tracks, and his wings snapped in tight. “Ilara.” My name on his lips caused a shiver to course up my spine. “I didn’t mean—” He raked a hand through his hair. “Dammit, I knew I fucked up at the meeting.” He growled. “What I’m trying to say is—” Fuming, he tore a hand through his hair again.
I raised my eyebrows. “Yes?”
His nostrils flared, and the aura around him grew so visceral that it felt as though his sheer power draped all over me. “I’m sorry. I know you wish to be released from this Trial.”
“I do.”
“But I can’t stop it, Ilara. I’m not the king.”
“Why not try, though?”
“I did. I tried several times to have you released from these dates before the Trial started, but the king refuses.”
“But that was just the dates. I want out of the Trial entirely, and when you last asked the king, it was before the king knew what I was doing with the orem. If you would only try again—”
“I can’t, Ilara,” he growled. “I won’t. Besides, my father won’t be commanded. Even if I demanded it, he would refuse.”
Any hope I’d held at being released from the Trial again withered and died. Anger rose in me, and I began to tap my foot. “What a shame. You certainly command me quite easily.”
His eyes narrowed. “Is that what this is about? That I commanded you?”
I worked a swallow, then began to fidget. “I don’t like it,” I finally hissed. “My life is entirely out of my control, and then you only make it worse by reminding me that I’m powerless.”
“I . . .” His mouth opened, then closed, and a scowl twisted his features. “I’m . . . unfamiliar with not commanding fae. It’s been instilled into me from a young age. But . . .” His scowl turned into a frown. “I can see how that made you feel.” He took a deep breath, then said quietly, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, Ilara. I didn’t intend to make you feel that way.”
My chest rose and fell with each breath, and I suddenly wished I still held my wine glass simply so I had something to grip despite the prince.
“Do you mean that?” I replied.
“Yes,” he all but growled. “I don’t view you as an object I own. I never have. I simply . . . command fae. It’s what I do, but I can understand that it made you feel insignificant and powerless, and for that I am sorry. That wasn’t my intention.”
I eyed him carefully, because my heart was suddenly beating much too fast. “But that is how I feel. Whenever you remind me that I’m powerless to resist your wishes, my anger toward you returns.”
His nostrils flared. “Ilara,” he said so gruffly that my breath stopped. He cupped my jaw, and the feel of his fingers on my skin made a thousand nerve endings come to life. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to do that. It’s a habit, but I’ll try to be better.”
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe, let alone reply. The crown prince of the Winter Court, the heir to the throne, the next king of the Solis continent, was apologizing for commanding me. On top of that, he was telling me he would try not to order me again. It was his birthright to command others, yet for me, he was saying he would give it up. Or try to.
“Please accept my apology.” He ran his thumb lightly along my jaw, and a shiver worked up my spine. “Please let me try to make it up to you.”
My heart beat harder and harder. It was now a galloping beast in my chest. The prince sounded sincere. He looked sincere, but why would he feel such remorse for something he was ultimately entitled to? Even if it made me hate him?
My thoughts were spinning again, and my insides were warming. This male held such power over me, and it wasn’t all related to my imprisonment.
I took a step back, anything to break our intimate contact that was messing with my mind. “All right. I accept your apology.”
His hand fell as he searched my expression. “You do?”
I took a deep, steadying breath. “Yes.”
He smiled, and his sheer beauty threatened to overwhelm me. Blessed Mother, what is it about this male?
He stepped closer, and his snow and cedar scent hit me. Mother, he always smelled so good.
His lips curved more. “Now, I believe I promised you a drink.”
I gripped his arm again as we resumed walking. The prince propelled me along until we reached the wine table.
The servant standing behind it straightened and began stuttering, “Sir, sorry, Your Highness. What can I get you? Is the wine at the table not to your liking? May I—”
“It’s fine. All’s well, but if you would please grab a bottle from Lumalisbee, specifically the eastern plain label, I would appreciate it.”
The servant bowed. “Of course, my prince.”
I tapped my foot as I scanned the room, my thoughts still reeling from the prince’s apology. A hum of conversation drifted in the air as the servant pulled out a stepstool to reach the bottle on the top shelf. Most of the females and males in the Trial had heeded Prince Norivun’s suggestion to stand and mingle.