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And we’re royalty. Everyone wants to pretend to be our friends. That’s how difficult my poor friend finds the social world. I may have allowed few people close to me, but the difference is that’s been by choice.
“I hope I don’t find my mate,” I tell him.
Zane’s harsh features shift into an almost-smile. “I know that. That wasn’t my question.”
I don’t want to answer him, so I change tactics. “Are you hoping to find your mate?”
He tilts his head and doesn’t answer for a long minute. “I wouldn’t mind… someone. If it were the right someone.”
I study him, trying to decide if I’m surprised, then decide that I’m not. Zane is from a harsh land with harsh people, but beneath his surface he’s exactly the opposite. I think all his life he’s searched for gentleness, for kindness, but has only ever found anything close to what he needs through the animals he befriends.
A gentle partner might change his life. “If she’s your mate, she should be the right one. Right?”
He studies his diamond ring. “I suppose. That’s what they say, isn’t it?”
It is. But all three of us have seen evidence that chosen mates might not be all that we’ve been told. That maybe finding your mate isn’t the fairy tale the elder fae wants us to believe.
“Has anyone caught your eye?” Again, I’m curious. Fae not of age cannot attend the Winter and Summer Solstice Balls. I’ve always wondered if a fae simply takes no interest in another person one moment, and then the magic makes that person irresistible a moment later… or if some level of attraction has always existed between the people.
I’ve heard that it happens both ways.
Zane shrugs. “I’ve found a few fuckable women tonight, but I’m not marrying any of these mindless fae. I hope. They just want the title. They have no idea what we deal with or even who we are, and they’ll probably never care. I imagine a lifetime with them would be miserable.”
I nod, although I don’t even know if I’d actually fuck anyone here. The glamors hide their truths from us. It’s all an illusion. If they have to hide what they look like, what else needs to be hidden? What will show up whether they want it to or not once we’re married?
It’s not a risk I want to take.
We stand in comfortable silence, watching the ball play out in front of us for the rest of the song. Cobar kisses up his partner’s arm all the way to her neck. She blushes and giggles before he sends her on her way and finds another dance partner: someone from the Winter Court this time. He’s tasting all the samples tonight.
“It’s unbelievable how much magic these iron demons need from us. It’s double the amount it used to be,” Zane says, squeezing his eyes closed and rubbing his temples.
My head aches from the mention of them. “The headaches are the worst part. If we had a way to give our magic without the headaches, I’d be happy to do it.”
“Those headaches are just awonderfulbonus to being the powerful princes that we are.” Zane scowls. I do too. It’s all bullshit, the things we have to quietly do to protect our lands. Hilarious bullshit.
“What’s so funny?” Forrest, Prince of the Fall Court, asks as he slithers up to us.
I resist the urge to punch him in the face. I promised myself I’d behave tonight, but just seeing his face makes me want to forget that promise.
“We’re just talking about how wonderful it is to be the princes of our courts.” Zane doesn’t look at Forrest as he speaks.
Forrest is a complete asshole. Out of all the courts, the Summer and Fall Court have fought the most. And while the Summer fae are more than glad to be at peace, the Fall fae live for war. They itch for any excuse to cause death and destruction, so we always have to treat them with care.
Over the years, I’ve spent just as much time with Forrest as I have with Cobar and Zane, and I still don’t trust him. He’s arrogant. Selfish. And impossible to read. I’m pretty sure that every word that comes out of his mouth conceals a lie.
“Oh, you mean how being a prince means that we could fuck any girl in this room if we wanted to?” He grins and lets his eyes wander around the room.
Zane and I exchange looks.
Women seem to shrink back from him as he stares at them, and I wonder if it’s because of the scar that goes across his face, through his forehead, eye, and cheek, or if it’s because of his reputation as a hunter. Maybe it’s neither. Maybe it’s simply because he’s a Fall fae and the rumors of their ruthlessness is enough for all the women to be hoping not to be claimed as his mate.
I don’t know, but Forrest tosses his head full of long, auburn hair and raises a glass to the women. “To their chances of claiming one of us.”
Zane and I smirk at one another.
Forrest slams his drink and then slaps it onto a tray. I almost remind him that this isn’t his court full of huge, laughing hunters and the servants that do their best to avoid them, but I hold my tongue. A moment of arrogance isn’t worth war claiming my lands and people once more. I intend to be better than my father as ruler, not worse, and that would not be a good start.
“There are a lot of beautiful women here tonight. Maybe one will be your mate,” Zane says, tossing another drink back, playing the part of diplomat, when he knows I won’t.
