He shook his head. “Her hair used to be hidden under one of her illusion spells, before my father suppressed her power. Now, I conceal it under my illusion spell at her request.”
My eyes widened, and I thought back to the day she’d visited me wearing a scarf. “Did she ask you to remove the illusion the day the snowgum attacked you?”
He cocked his head. “She did when she came to the infirmary to see me.”
Bitterness and anger rose in me simultaneously, making my lip curl. I’d suffered abuse in my life, but nothing as vicious as what Queen Lissandra had endured.
I took a moment to compose myself, but my voice still shook when I asked, “So even though you do as the king says, he still abuses your mother?”
The prince shrugged ruefully. “The abuse she suffers is the lesser of the two evils. He won’t beat or starve her if I continue doing as he wants, but he knows that she’s nearly as powerful as me. If my mother’s magic was freed, either of us could kill him if we chose to, no matter how many guards he has surrounding him, so he controls me through her, and her by trapping her affinities.” He took another sip of whiskey, his expression bitter. “My father is always thinking ahead. I can guarantee that he has other safeguards in place if the day ever comes that one of us decides to betray him. It’s another reason I can’t kill him outright or assassinate him covertly.”
“But why? Why does he do that at all? You’re his family. Family protects and loves one another.”
“Not everyone’s father is like yours, Ilara. My father has been ruling the northern continent for hundreds of winters, longer than any king. That reign hasn’t come from kindness. He’s brutal and ruthless, and above all, he relishes power. He’s done whatever’s been necessary to keep his throne and any threats to it at bay.”
“And now it’s being threatened.”
He nodded. “My father refuses to admit there’s a problem with the crops because he’s lived for so long and has seen so many magical cycles of our continent that he’s convinced it’s merely a delay in the celestial events, and eventually, our land’s orem will be replenished, but he’s wrong even if he won’t admit it. If the celestial events truly have stopped, he’s powerless to fix that. I don’t think he wants to accept that, because this would be the first time in his reign that he can’t control the outcome of our continent.”
“So he’s buried his head in the sand because he doesn’t like the consequences?”
“He has. I’ve tried to talk sense into him. It’s no use. He’s convinced the land will thrive again if we just wait it out.”
“And meanwhile, fae will starve.”
“Correct. They’ll starve and grow bitter and angry that nothing’s being done, but that’s where I come in. If I control any wayward fae who takes it upon themselves to cause unrest, other fae will see that and stay quiet. It makes me the hated one, not him, so he continues his rule, and nothing threatens his power while he waits for the orem to reappear.”
“Yet, there’s been talk of war and if the king should stay in power.”
“My father’s been watching the council members who are stirring such talk. He hasn’t outright told me to kill them, but I know if they step too far, he will.”
“But . . . can you do that?”
He shook his head. “If I killed them, the uproar from the fae of our continent would be so great that even my father would have no choice but to kill me as payback.”
“But he’d still risk that. Sacrificing his own son, silencing the council members who oppose him, and all for what? To stay in power?”
“He’ll do anything to keep control. His brutality has no bounds.”
“Norivun,” I said sadly, achingly. I’d been so wrong about him, about everything.
He stilled.
Lips parting, I realized it was the very first time I’d ever called him by his given name.
His chest rose and fell swiftly with each breath as his hand inched across the sofa until it rested near mine. I looked at his long fingers, his large palm. He stayed rigid, waiting—waiting to see if I would accept him.
I slipped my palm beneath his and didn’t resist when he tentatively threaded his fingers with mine.
A lightning bolt of longing coursed through me.
He loosed a breath, as if he’d felt the same, and that my acknowledgment, my touch, soothed some deep part of his soul.
But he wasn’t the only one affected. Feeling him, touching him . . . it called to something within me too. Something that was unfurling and growing, some hidden part of me that had been dormant and was only now coming to light.
Mate.
“How do we stop the king?” I whispered. “And how do we permanently fix our land?”
His eyes darkened in the firelight, brimming with barely leashed desire. “We start by you winning the Rising Queen Trial.”
CHAPTER 21
Those words hit me like a punch to my gut. Win the Trial. Marry the prince. Destroy the king.
“What if I can’t?” I pulled my hand away and wrapped my arms around my waist.
“You can, Ilara. You’re stronger than all of them. Just because your magic is new doesn’t deter from its strength. You’re powerful. You just need to believe in yourself and hone it.”
“But if I win, we’ll—” I licked my lips as my stomach coiled. Desire tingled within me, desire for him. “We’ll marry.”
“We will.” That wild light entered his eyes again. “And then you’ll be mine.” Those instincts reared in his expression, the feral longing, the harsh desire.
Males always felt the mate bond more viscerally than females. It wasn’t unheard of for males to kill another male who in any way threatened their female. There were laws in the courts that allowed such acts, simply because the instincts were so strong that they were at times uncontrollable.
And that fact hit me like a thunderbolt. No wonder he’d tried to kill Vorl and Lord Waterline when they’d attacked me. And no wonder he’d nearly killed his guard when he believed Haxil was trying to claim me.
“Is your interest in me solely because of the bond?” I asked.
“No.”
I arched an eyebrow as I took in his broad shoulders and massive wings. He was as alluring as the underworld, dark and full of sin. I’d tried to fight my attraction to him, but I wanted him.
He inhaled, subtly, but I still caught it. “And is your interest in me only because of the bond?”
My chest rose faster, and I hastily took another drink. “No.”
He inched closer, his gaze like a predator. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but it’s not just the bond that attracts me to you, Ilara. You’re strong, brave, kind, and much more resilient than most give you credit for.”
My gaze whipped to his. “How do you know that?”
“I’ve seen enough to know that much, and I’ve heard things too. The servants speak of you, of your kindness and willingness to always help. They’ve never met a lady like you. You don’t see yourself as above them or them as merely there to serve you. You see them as fae, as individuals. It hasn’t gone unnoticed.”