Yet an overwhelming part of me dreads facing this alone. He’s my only true friend, the one person who truly sees and cares for the real me.
Talon never treated me the way everyone else always has. He always talked to me like I was a person. Not a princess. Not a symbol. Just. . .me.
When his square jaw flexes with barely restrained violence, I know I’ve won.
“Perfect.” I clap my hands together. “Let’s go.”
I turn and start back down the street.
“Where are we going?” Talon growls. His displeasure is like a cape sweeping behind me.
“I’m going to get a job.” I don’t even try to hide my excitement. “We are going to a bar called Poison Apple.”
Chapter 3
Where Lost Girls Live
TALON
As I follow Aura along the city streets, I can’t stop thinking this is a terrible idea. Why am I going along with this?
Because you can’t do anything about it.
The princess has never thrown that in my face before, and I don’t like the taste of what she served me.
Oh, if I could touch you, Aura, I’d do more than drag you home. I’d do everything you ever wanted and more.
But my angry, desire-fueled thoughts burn away the second we step inside Poison Apple.
The bar is nothing like what we have at home.
Back in the Realm of Roses, taverns are built for lingering. Heavy wooden beams, crackling hearths, ale served in earthenware mugs. Everything is slow, rich and warm. You don’t drink to forget. You drink to remember.
This place? This place isn’t for remembering. It’s for getting lost in the haze of lust, liquor, and dance.
A massive tree stretches overhead, its thick branches decorated with fairy lights that throw a magical warmth over the sleek black tables and the packed dance floor. Behind the bar is a rising tower of glass and gold, glowing from within, a beacon,each bottle catching the light in molten amber and rich crimson. A backlit shrine to vice.
The floor thrums beneath my boots, the bass so deep it thrums with the pulse of some great beast. It surges through bodies dancing in tandem. Unlike the songs of home—ballads of heroes, sorrow, and victory—this music is made for sex. Hands on hips, teeth on throats, lips parted for things that have nothing to do with words.
Aura stares, mouth slightly agape, eyes wide, catching the shifting light, the sheen of sweat-slicked skin, the golden gleam of liquor being poured.
"This is. . ." She breathes in, nearly laughing. "Fae lords, Talon, look at it."
Iamlooking.
At her.
Her eyes gleam in the low, golden light, drinking in the flickers of motion, the pulse of sound, each glint of glass and temptation.
I’d spent every step here trying to scheme a way to drag her back. Reinforcements, an order from the crown, someone who could put hands on her and force her home. But seeing her like this, lit from the inside, eyes wide with wonder, I know I can’t.
But I’m sure as fae fucks not going anywhere.
I made an oath to protect the princess. Where she goes, I go.
I’m not here to enjoy myself. I’m here to keep her alive. That’s all I am to be. She is mine to guard, no matter where she runs. Even if it means watching her stumble through a dangerous world I cannot control.
A dozen sets of eyes slide to her, some curious, some predatory, all drawn in like moths to flame.
