Page 51 of Heart of the Raven Prince

“Caden, please,” my mother pleads, grabbing my arm, but I yank it out of her grip.

“How greatly I’ve failed you,” he sighs, shaking his head, but the burning passion never leaves his gaze. “I should have taught you better, should have impressed upon you how dangerous that power would be to unleash. How dangerous even asking about it can be. You have spent too much time training and not enough time learning. Can't you see the prophecy playing out right before our very eyes?”

“Oh my gods, fuck the prophecy,” I shout.

“Caden!”

“No, mother, I’m sorry, but I refuse to tremble in fear over some piece of fiction that supposedly spells out the end of the world. I can’t do it; I can’t dine with him.”

A soft cry breaks from my mother’s lips, and I harden my heart against it. She’s not blameless in this either. She could sway my father and convince him to give me the book I’ve been begging for since the moment I realized I was in love with Sorcia. But that plea has gone unanswered for years, and I refuse to sweep all that anger under the rug and move on like he isn’t forcing me to watch the love of my life wither and die.

Not when there is a chance to make her immortal.

“Come,” my father says, moving swiftly to my mother and helping her rise. “It is clear we’ve overstayed our welcome.”

“You never had it to begin with,” I snap directly at him. A petty, hateful comment. I’m buzzing with energy, magic rippling over my skin, and all I want to do is fight and expel some of it. They move toward the exit, and I stiffen at their approach. My mother splits from my father, swiping the tears still wetting her cheeks as she pulls me into a fierce hug, standing on tiptoes to whisper against my ear.

“You may be in love, but you are still the future king of a nation. He is just trying to protect you.” She drops her voice even lower, and I have to strain to hear it. “Do not splinter yourself, son.”

“If he's just trying to protect me, he has a shit way of showing it,” I say, not bothering to lower my voice as I lock eyes directly with him. She deflates, sighing as she pulls away from me and sweeps quietly out of the room.

“You foolish fucking boy,” my father says, shaking his head, his mouth tilted down in disgust. “Do you truly think me so heartless to not do everything in my power to try and make sure your love lives eternally? If I thought her intentions were pure—”

“Get the fuck out before I make you,” I hiss, refusing to listen to this same argument again. He lets out a defeated sigh.

“I was charged with guarding that knowledge the moment I took the throne. You will be too when you are crowned king. Maybe then you’ll understand that just because we have the power to change fate, doesn’t mean we should.”

“The very moment I’m crowned king, I am going to do what you should have already done. I’m going to invoke a goddess.”

“Son, you do not realize—”

“I’m going to invoke Niamh,” I cut in, visceral anger dripping from my words as I take a domineering step toward him. “I will make her immortal; I will make her a fae.”

I expect my father to rage against me, but instead he just looks dejected.

“As long as that is your plan, I will never abdicate the throne. To do so would mean I have failed you and this kingdom.”

He leaves me then, his footsteps echoing down the hallway, accompanied by the quiet sobs of my mother.

Pain radiates through me as Doran lands a punch directly to my ribs. I narrowly dodge a second strike, rocking back on my heels and stumbling into the wall behind me. Doran drops his raised fists and quirks a brow at me; I’m not normally this sloppy. Sweat trickles down my face and onto my naked chest as I hold up a hand and ask, “Can we take a break?”

He levels a look at me; I also normally don’t ask for breaks. More often than not, I’m the one pushing our sparring matches further. The abysmal dinner with my parents is consuming my thoughts, it’s all I can focus on. That and the slowly dwindling hourglass counting down the seconds I have left with Sorcia, before death eventually claims her.

Doran tosses a towel at me, and I snatch it out of the air and quickly swipe it over my sweat-soaked skin. The sun is beating down on us, sapping more of my energy with its unrelenting heat. I slept like shit last night and started the day exhausted, another reason why bruises and aches pepper my body from the numerous blows Doran was able to land.

“You’re more distracted than usual,” he mutters as he hands me a water flask. Accepting the flask, I gulp down a large portion before shrugging and handing it back to him.

“I’ve got a lot on my mind. Prince of a nation and all.” I’m trying to sound jovial, but the weariness in my bones is bleeding into my words and it comes off sounding far sullener than I intended. Doran only frowns, narrowing his chestnut-brown eyes at me. I ignore his pensive stare as we gather our discarded shirts and begin to move. We leave the sparring ring behind, ambling down the gravel path leading back to the Barracks where the army resides. The clang and shouts of training fae fill the tense silence between us.

“Out with it,” I say, glancing sideways at him. He’s staring straight ahead, but scowls at my words. Conversation has been stilted between us recently, something I have tried to ignore. Normally we speak often and openly. As the only son of my father’s general, Doran and I have been raised alongside each other. He’s more a brother to me than a friend. Or…he was. But somewhere along the way a thorn pierced into that relationship.

A fracture that formed the day I introduced him to Sorcia.

“Your father—”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” I cut in, heat lacing my words as my pace picks up. Of course, my father got to Doran as well. I blame this divide between us on him, on his overbearing need to control my life. It has nothing to do with Sorcia, and everything to do with my father. “Whatever that bastard put you up to, save your breath. I don’t care what he has to say.”

“Caden,” he says, coming to a halt in front of me. I don’t miss a beat as I sidestep him.