My heart thundered in my chest as the tall male scanned the room, his sapphire eyes narrowed and assessing as a commanding, powerful aura pulsed from his skin. Huge muscled, black leathery wings tipped with talons were tucked close to his back, and he seemed to dwarf the village males around the room.
The newcomer wore the Court of Winter’s colors: black, silver, and blue. A thick tunic stretched across his broad chest, the court’s seal proudly displayed on his arm.
Cailis’s hand gripped mine even tighter as a light sheen of sweat burst across my entire body.
Everyone around the large male dipped into a bow, the rest of us dropping our heads.
Because the crown prince of the Winter Court had just entered the village barn, the Bringer of Darkness himself standing among us in the flesh.
Which meant the rumors had been true after all.
CHAPTER 3
“Who’s in charge here?” Prince Norivun Deema Melustral Achul, first son of the king, Bringer of Darkness, Death Master of the continent, son of Prinavee Territory, and crown prince and heir to the Winter Court’s throne, asked as he scanned the room. His deep voice resonated in my chest, and my heart beat even harder.
“My prince.” Vorl immediately fell into a low bow as the rest of us waited mutely, nobody moving. Nobody breathing. “I’m in charge. It’s truly an honor, my prince.”
Snow laced the top of Prince Norivun’s head, light dancing off the flakes in his silver hair. The top half of his hair was pulled away from his face and secured at the back of his head with an ebony leather band. His locks fell to just below his shoulders as his strong jaw worked while he scanned the room. Behind him, four powerful guards waited.
My fingers itched to move upward and secure my scarf more, but I didn’t dare move other than to squeeze my sister’s hand harder beneath the table as a deep burning anger began to bloom in my chest.
This royal, this fairy was the reason for all of our heartache. I hated him with a vengeance that was so potent I could barely breathe. Never mind that he was the crown prince of the Winter Court. He was my personal nemesis. Even if he didn’t know it.
Prince Norivun signaled Vorl to rise. “What have your yields been this past month?”
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.