Page 9 of Heart of the Raven Prince

“You stabbed her?” Doran all but shouts, and I roll my eyes.

“Calm down, she basically did it to herself.” He scoffs at me, but I continue, “Hopefully now she’ll understand the importance of keeping her lineage hidden.” I intended to simply scare her into muteness, but she was nowhere near the timid creature I was anticipating.

Doran finally puts the dagger back in its sheath before crossing his arms and studying the camp. His eyes, black like all the fae, are tracking each and every movement. A blast of icy wind hits us, making me groan. My chest sears, and I continue to rub that hollow wound. I hate the cold; it only makes the ache worse. I can’t remember the last time I was warm. I think about her, how warm she felt pressed against me. So full of fire and life. With more effort than it should take, I shove that thought aside.

“What do you want to do about them?” Doran asks, pulling me from my thoughts. I pause, my hand falling from my chest as I think. What do I want to do about them? I should do what I have done every other time I’ve conquered a nation in her name. I should present the prisoners as gifts to the queen. It’s what she requires of me and what is expected of her heir. But…I can’t. Not this time.

Not now that I’ve tasted her.

Thoughts of her blood warm my mind. Rich and peppery, exactly what I'd expected from someone as stubborn as her. It had been barely a few drops, but fuck, I can’t get the taste out of my mouth. Hunger pangs twist my stomach, sharp and demanding.

It has been so long since I tasted blood like hers. I’m not even sure I ever have. It’s not the flavor alone that snares my attention. It’s the fact that even with her blood inside of me, I had not been allowed access to her mind. With the first taste of her on my tongue and the sound of her voice in my ears, my magic should have fused the two and her mind should have opened to me like a blooming flower. A skill of mine that has never failed before.

Until now.

Her voice—full of beautiful little lies—hadn’t connected with my magic. Her mind slid through my fingers, closed to me. Yet another thing she refuses me even if she isn’t aware of it. I huff, glaring at but not seeing the camp in front of me. I am denied nothing, certainly not a simple human woman’s mind. It should be splayed open for me. Do I require more of her blood? My mouth waters at the thought. I grit my teeth, pushing that desire down. No, not desire. I do not desire a human.

“What of the boy?” I ask, ignoring his question, but still needing something to distract me as I turn and look at Doran. He shrugs.

“I sent Velen after him when we dropped him on the outskirts of the estate. She’d have no doubt befriended him by now. She was able to snag a set of clothing off one of the dead.”

I nod to show I’m listening even as my mind drifts back to the woman asleep in my tent. Velen is a shifter and can easily disguise herself as a human. Her charlatan upbringing makes her the perfect spy. She may not have known me before my time as the Raven Prince, but she quickly became one of my closest confidants and eventually my second-in-command. Even though I know I had erected a solid wall of wind around us, I still cast my eyes about, looking for any signs of eavesdroppers. The fae are only too glad to bring news of my words to the queen, another thing I have learned the hard way.

“Velen is normally good at getting word to us when she can, I’m sure she’ll let us know when she and the prince have made it across the sea,” I say.

“And the princess?” Doran asks. I frown, having just gotten her sharp gaze out of my mind. I think of her, lost in fitful sleep back in my tent. How little she truly thought of me if she believed I didn’t know who she was the instant I laid eyes on her, like we hadn’t been studying them well before the attack on their kingdom. Doran hadn’t chosen her to bring to my tent by pure coincidence. Still, the façade of a servant will serve her well, if she can just hold to that ruse.

Now, with the prince spirited off and his whereabouts known to one of mine, I had another bargaining chip to use against the princess. I thought I could scare her into submission, intimidating her into the perfect moldable soldier. But she just had to be defiant.

Oh well. I’m certainly not above blackmailing her.

I've planned this for too long to give up now just because she's a feisty little thing. I’m not so foolish to think the princess will ever trust me enough to work with me willingly. I know I will need something to dangle in front of her face to force her to agree. We're close, so fucking close to a chance at an escape. I'm not going to let some willful woman stop me from achieving it. I'll drag her after me if I have to.

“Caden,” Doran prods, pulling me from thoughts of fierce green eyes.

“I can’t be sure about her, not just yet. But…” I think of her blood, and the thing I tasted lurking within it. Casting my eyes over to him, my voice drops even lower as I say, “We might have found what we’ve been searching for.”

“Are you sure?” Doran asks, his voice guarded. Was I sure?

Fuck, I don’t know.

Freedom has eluded me since the moment these wings sprouted from my back. Close, always tauntingly close, but something I could never quite grasp. As the nights grew longer and my hands became steeped in more blood, I had stopped hoping to ever experience it again.

Hope.

Such a sad, small word. I’m not sure I’m even worthy of the feeling anymore. Most likely not. Not after all I’ve done. After what I’ve become.

When was the last time I truly hoped? It must have been before my wings. Certainly, before this endless hunger. I know. It had been when I entered the forest, guided by a human woman who was seeking a gift only an old god could bestow. Blinded by love, I had willingly betrayed my father and my people. It was the night I met the Raven Queen. The night she carved my heart out of my chest.

The night I unleashed a curse.

“Why were the bodies of the regents burned and hung over the gates?” I ask, anger growing inside of me at the thought that someone had taken it upon themselves to exact that form of punishment. The king and queen were dead; there was no need to brutalize their corpses.

“I’m told the new recruits decided to make a show for the surviving prisoners,” Doran says, narrowing his eyes at the camp. He too does not like when he isn’t in control of his army.

“Find out who did it and deal with them,” I snap. “I want to remind this army just what happens when you decide to act on your own orders.” The queen’s army had become unruly since we first entered the mortal realm, like rabid dogs let off a leash. It was helped little by the addition of the mortal recruits that are swelling our numbers. Fights are constantly breaking out between the fae and mortal soldiers, often ending with the humans left in a bloody pile. Keeping them in line has become a constant headache, and I’ve had to personally remind more than one soldier just who is in command.

I rub my hand absentmindedly over my chest, where no sound beats. That empty and hollow grave is the reason for my constant hunger and the need to feed. As if on cue, my stomach rumbles, demanding attention. I am starving, and that damn human’s blood is all I can fucking think about. I could easily feed from her, bound and helpless in my tent. Even armed, she would be no match for me. Nothing more than a weak mewling kitten in my arms. I could take her, have her, drink deeply from her.