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“You blame your father for that,” I say.
Finally, he looks back at me. “Yes. But he’s long dead. Any vengeance there is out of reach. It wasn’t long after that when he passed, but by the time I returned to the Court of the Forest, well…”
I touch his face, savoring the way he ever so slightly leans against my palm. “Thank you for telling me.”
Sigurd gives the briefest nod in return. “Anyhow, about my father, despite his lust for human women, he avoided an heir for many years, which is why I have no siblings. He didn’t want the threat to his reign, I believe. But as he grew older and his power waned, he wasn’t about to let the magic settle outside his bloodline or, worse, have it not settle at all, as happened to the Unseelie many years ago.”
“Not settle?”
He glances down at me and forces a smile. “It’s the transition of magic, when a monarch’s power transfers to their heir. Long ago, the last Unseelie king died without an heir, and the power never settled on a new one. It simply left them and their land to fade.”
The Unseelie woman’s face flashes through my memories. I should tell him, warn him that an Unseelie fae ventures his territory. My gaze slides to the tattoo around my wrist. But maybe her offer is honest. Maybe she just needs to be near me a bit to keep from fading, and that’s what she wants? Though sending me home is a bit counterintuitive to that.
“Wren?” Sigurd says. “You’ve gone quiet on me.”
I swallow my thoughts and force a smile for his benefit. Ishouldtell him. But there’s a little voice screaming in the back of my head not to. He could bind me here longer, even if the cauldron releases me. Why wouldn’t he—or anyone else—if I grant them power? I’d like to think he wouldn’t do such a thing, thatIwouldn’t, but if I were desperate, if my family needed it, I just might, horrible as it is.
“It’s just a lot,” I say. “But your home is quite lovely, at least what I’ve seen.” Yes, that’s a better, safer topic.
“It was meant to be my prison. It was at first. The only way off the floating isle is plummeting to the water below or shifting out—which I couldn’t do until my power matured.”
“Didn’t consider using your wings to fly away?”
“I didn’t have my wings, either, until my power matured. But yes, I flew the moment I could.”
“Where did you go?” A runaway prince escaping his tutors. Now that’s a sight I can easily picture.
He draws me to a large picture window looking out over the lake and the forest beyond. “Where didn’t I go is the better question.” His grin steals my soul until it dims. “But I always came back. Father would have taken it out on my tutors if I didn’t, and they didn’t deserve that.” He runs his hand through his hair. “The antics they had to put up with from me.” He shakes his head before sliding a conspiratorial glance my way. “I paid them all well after I became king to compensate for the years of trouble.”
“See.” I bump my hip against him. “You can be nice when you want to.”
“Oh, I can beverynice when I choose to.”
My teeth sink into my bottom lip, hard.
“You always wanted to travel?”
No sooner has he asked the question than a gust of wind rushes against the windowpanes, throwing them open. It swirls around me, tossing my hair and urging me further into the crook of Sigurd’s arm.
It settles as quickly as it came.
“Yes,” I say, recovering my wits.
“Then fly with me, Wren. Let me show you some of the wonders of the Court of Air.”
I gasp as his wings erupt from nowhere, filling the space behind him as they flex and stretch.
Oh, sweet baby Jesus.
Sigurd scoops me into his arms before I have time to protest. I cling to him, throw my arms around his neck, and clutch at his shirt for dear life, even though we’re still on the ground.
He leaps onto the windowsill, filling its massive frame.
“I swear, if you drop me…”
A laugh rumbles from his chest. “I promise I won’t let you fall.”
Chapter 26
