“Like I said, she’s my guest,” the prince said tightly. “I expect her to be treated as such.”
The female immediately dropped her stare. “Right, I’ll—” She dipped in a curtsy. “Of course, my prince.”
She hurried from the room to the back stairs leading to a second floor, which I assumed was where the lodging rooms waited, as an enchanted tray floated past us. Laden with drinks, it glided across the room to a table of three males. From there, the drinks floated off the serving tray, coming to rest in front of each patron.
Now that the surprise of the prince’s arrival was wearing off, more and more looked in my direction. Whispers erupted, and comments drifted toward me.
“No wings? How peculiar.”
“Were they shaved, do you suppose?”
The prince stepped in front of me, shielding me from their obnoxious curiosity. “Hungry?”
His question had my attention snapping away from the curious onlookers as Milis reappeared, hurrying from the stairs to our side.
“I suppose, my prince.” I didn’t add anything further. I was always hungry, even though at the moment I doubted I could eat.
“Your rooms are being readied. Would you like refreshments while you wait?” Milis asked, her smile overly bright.
When the prince inclined his head, she nodded toward the table nearest the fire and gave the couple sitting at it a sharp look.
Both hastily stood, their chairs squeaking against the floor when they pushed them back in a flourish. The prince didn’t so much as utter a thank you when they moved to the empty corner booth far away from the fire and its heat.
My lips thinned as Prince Norivun settled onto the chair, the wooden seat protesting under his heavy weight as his wings settled into the divots created to accommodate them. I pulled out the chair across from him, looking anywhere but at his handsome face as an enchanted tray floated to us.
Two large bowls of stew glided off the tray to our place settings, along with mugs of ale and plates of heavily buttered bread. The portions were generous, easily four times the size of Krisil’s ladle. It all smelled delicious as scents of herbed meat wafted up to greet me, but my stomach protested despite its hollow hole as another terrible thought struck me. Perhaps this would be the first meal of many I would have without my sister.
The prince was on his third bite before he nodded toward my bowl. “You need to eat.”
I met his gaze, unblinking. His beauty struck me again. Sitting as he was, his sheer size dominated the room, yet he held himself with ease, his large bulk moving fluidly—gracefully even. I skimmed over his symmetrical features, deep-set eyes, and strong nose. His masculinity was the kind spoken of in sonnets and sung in melodies that seduced a female with only a few syllables. He was utter perfection, a living sculpture. It only riled me further. Such unparalleled beauty wasn’t fair in a male such as him.
“Is that a command, my prince?”
His eyes narrowed before he leaned forward in his chair. “Your life as you knew it is over. I suggest you adjust to that and stop sulking.”
“Sulking?”
“Yes, sulking.”
“And have you ever been taken from your home, your family, by the fairy who . . .”
His eyebrow arched, a perfect wing of silver. “The fairy who what?”
His expression remained guileless, truly unburdened. He honestly didn’t know what he’d done to me, to Cailis, to our lives.
Righteous anger burned inside me, which was much more preferable to the fear I’d previously felt, but I pinched my lips closed.
“The fairy who what?” he repeated.
“Nothing, my prince. I’m quite tired. I apologize.” My heart beat painfully hard as I took a deep breath.
What he’d done to me, he’d probably done to countless other families, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that he didn’t know of my family’s fate. He not only hadn’t asked my name, but he’d also probably lost count of his atrocities. He was the Death Master of the continent after all.
I fiddled with the napkin by my plate as he took another bite of stew. “When will I learn why you took me, my prince?”
His lips sealed around his spoon as his jaw worked through the stew’s tender meat and vegetables. “Soon enough.”
A biting retort was on the tip of my tongue until I caught the seriousness in his eyes. He wasn’t lying. Even though I didn’t have Cailis’s affinity for truth, I knew he was being honest. He would eventually tell me.
“Now, eat.” He pointed his spoon at the bread. “You won’t stay warm during the flight tomorrow if your belly’s empty.”
Looking down, I tore a piece off the bread and forced it into my mouth. The soft dough and smooth butter nearly melted on my tongue, yet despite that, I had to force it down because another horrible, awful thought came to me. Maybe he wasn’t telling me why he’d taken me because my fate was much worse than mere death.
Soft violin music continued floating around us as the prince slowly finished his meal. I couldn’t take another bite.
I had to know.
“My prince, are you going to torture me? Is that why you won’t tell me of my fate?” I asked quietly.
His hand stilled from scooping his last spoonful. A moment ticked by. Then another. A muscle in his jaw began to tick.
“What makes you think that?” he finally asked.
Because it’s what you do. And if it’s not torture, it will certainly be death because that’s what you did to my brother and my parents. Yet you obviously don’t know that. You probably don’t even remember murdering my family.
But I kept those words sealed in my mind, locking them down as far as they would go. “Because what use could you possibly have for me—a weak, wingless, defective fairy if not to purge the Solis race of my existence and perhaps punish me for ever having been born?”
His eyes burned with an intensity that put a fire elemental’s affinity to shame. “Is that how you see yourself?”
“Don’t you?”
But instead of answering that, he simply said, “I’m not going to kill you, and I’m not going to torture you.”
With that, he leaned back in his seat, his wings settling behind him just as the door opened, and Nish, Sandus, and his other two guards poured into the lodge.
Nish ran a hand over his short, shorn hair, then sauntered toward us. He smelled of wind and snow, and the cold air still clung to him.
After pulling out a chair by the fire, Nish straddled it and signaled Milis over, then took in the prince’s empty bowl and half-drunk mug of ale. “How long have you been here?”
“Oh, the usual,” the prince replied. “Hours upon hours. If you bastards weren’t so slow, we could have flown all the way to Solisarium tonight.”
My jaw dropped because we’d not even been here an hour, and the prince’s tone had been joking. I never would have thought the Death Master could have a sense of humor.
Sandus grinned and pulled out the chair by Nish before shaking the snow from his beard.