"Fen would have been a child at the time, yes? So did your father pick his realm for him?" I ask. It must have been such an elaborate dupe for everyone to pretend Fen had been one of them all along.
"Fen's realm didn't exist at the time," he says. "It was part of the Outlands. It was wild, which is why his realm sits at the edge of our kingdom and is the most desolate and untamed. High Castle was considered a realm, and my father was the seventh prince, the seventh curse. Have you not figured it out yet? Fen isn't cursed, not with what we are. There's a reason he's the Prince of War and not the Prince of Wrath, as the seven sins would have him. My father, the prince turned king, is the true Prince of Wrath."
I have so many questions, about Fen and his brothers and Lucian. "So what happened when you claimed this realm?" I ask.
"I was sure my father would side with one of my brothers, but he surprised me. Though it was thousands of years ago, I still remember clearly. I remember when he told me the news. He grasped my shoulder and said, ‘Though we no longer live in the Silver Gardens, I would never wish to see them burn,’ and then he left. It was one of the few moments, I think, that we truly understood each other. And because of that, I will never forget."
"It’s beautiful," I say, motioning to the nature around us, this private sanctuary, this secret.
He looks up, deep into my eyes. "Not as beautiful as the woman before me."
I can’t help it. I blush. Probably just the wine. "Please… I saw those women ogling you back in the city. I don’t even compare."
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. If I claim that leaf is perfect in its form, who’s to say I am wrong? If I say that rock brings me joy, who is to question me? If I confess, you are the most amazing women I have ever met, who will change my mind?"
"Dean…"
He leans forward. Closer. Closer. Until our lips almost touch.
His scent is sweet and intoxicating. His warmth consuming.
He breathes in deeply.
He moves closer.
And then he pulls away.
"You are under the influence of drink," he says.
I am. So drunk I might have let him kiss me. So drunk it’s hard to think. "And?"
"If there is to be anything between us, you should be of clear mind. I wish no regrets upon you."
This is the last thing I expected the Prince of Lust to say. In many ways, Dean would make a better king than his brother. He wouldn’t focus on fighting and accruing wealth, but on bringing joy and comfort. Isn’t that the sign of great ruler? One who could bring upon a golden age?
"Thank you," I say. "For being a gentleman."
He grins, though I see in his eyes he wishes more could have happened between us. He stands, offering me his hand to help me up. "If you would indulge me, Princess. I have one more surprise left."
I nod and take his arm.
He guides me to the outskirts of the city, to a tunnel built by man. I raise my dress, trying to keep it from dragging in the mud. "I must say. You surprise me once again. What are we doing?"
"The Fae lived here for millennia before we arrived, and who knows—perhaps there was something even older once. I have seen things in my travels, artifacts brought to my museum, that are neither Fae nor vampire, but relics of an ancient age. So, I’ve tried to find more."
We descend deeper into the tunnel, and it grows hotter as torches cast hot yellow lights at us. Dean wipes his brow and removes his shirt. "I’ve had my servants digging for artifacts for years. And a few weeks ago, they uncovered this."
He motions me to stop, then grabs a torch from the wall and dips it into some black liquid. Oil. It lights on fire, streaking across the darkness, illuminating the giant cavern we have reached.
Before us stands a giant stone door, cracked open in the center. It is dark green and covered in ancient glyphs. It reminds me of a Waystone, and for a moment I fear Dean has uncovered Avakiri. But then I look past the door, and see that it doesn’t lead into a Waystone, but a garden. "What is this place?" I ask.
"Not sure yet. I’ve held back on exploring, waiting so we could do it together. I needed something to impress the princess." Dean grins and grabs my hand, pulling me past the door.
And we emerge into a giant ruin, with ceilings as high as the palace, the walls around us withered stone covered in green moss. Tiles cover the floor, and a barren fountain stands before us, long dry. We walk forward, past doors and windows overgrown with vines and trees. Past a dirty pond filled with flowers. And then I see them.
The statues.
Five of them.
Tall and majestic, carved from emerald green stone. Two are men. Three are woman. Each carries an animal on their shoulder. "The Druids," I whisper, realization dawning on me. "These are the Four Druids and the Midnight Star."