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Wow, that escalated fast. And what is it with her and bodily functions?
But her offer warms my bitter heart, and I make a little nest of covers by my pillow for her. “Thank you, Ruby, but as long as I bear his mark, he can find me anywhere.”
Fae can’t cross into the human world without a visa. But if a human bears a Fae slave mark, there are plenty of bounty hunters who would find me and bring me back. Not to mention, I’m absolutely positive the Winter Prince has a visa.
It’s like this: the Winter King and his family undoubtedly have a monstrous townhouse in the major cities in the Untouched Zone, while my family can barely scrape by in a dying land.
Because life isn’t kind to those without power.
Turning the page, I go back to my research. Deep in my gut I know the answer I need is inside these stories. And I’ll be damned if I become the prince’s shadow without a fight.
30
I find what I’m looking for on the very last chapter. Breaking Dawn is playing over the television, the meager bluish light just enough to read if I squint really hard. As far as I can tell, everyone is asleep. It must be near midnight.
I’ve blown through exactly thirty chapters of intense recountings of the Nocturus over the years. All of them interesting, intense, and gruesome.
How very, very Fae.
The prologue gives a small history of the Nocturus. The Faerie Courts are notoriously corrupt, so many disputes were decided by the Nocturus, a battle of cunning and magic. In ancient times, there might be one hundred Nocturi held on the two major holidays when Fae powers are at their height: Samhain and the Wild Hunt.
Over the years, the Nocturus fell out of favor. Mostly because the Fae justice system became streamlined once the prince’s grandfather, Oberon, consolidated power to become ruler over all the courts. th my layers of clothing, the hair on my arms stands erect.
The fourth year shadow leads us across the snow into a side courtyard walled in on three sides by a stone fence. A giant oak tree stands sentinel in the middle, its long, regal branches weighted with snow.
As soon as we step foot in the courtyard, the fourth year retreats.
A sudden howling wind draws my eye to a raging wall of snow. It circles around the courtyard like a bubble, faster and faster and faster until we’re trapped.
“What’s happening?” Mack whispers, resituating her scarlet wool scarf around her neck.
“He wants privacy,” I mutter. “Showoff.”
“Who?” Her crystallized breath plumes across the courtyard.
I’d completely forgotten I haven’t told them who we’re meeting. Before I can answer, the Winter Prince emerges from a doorway on the other side, his owl perched on his shoulder. Asher trails beside him, arms crossed over his massive chest and a miserable look on his face. As a shifter, he might be Unseelie, but I learned in class that dragon shifters are cold-blooded by nature and need warmth.
Basically, the opposite of this place.
The moment Asher locks eyes on Mack, the big guy’s face lights up.
My gaze slides to Mack beside me. A blush stains her tanned cheeks, a timid smile playing across her lips as she returns his stare.
The prince and I, on the other hand, glare at each other like opposing generals before a battle.
“Do you have my book?” I say in lieu of greeting, jutting out my hand palm up. I ignore the tiny jump my heart gave at the sight of him. At his stupid messy blue-black hair and perpetual smirk. The moonlight glimmers inside his irises, making them look more silver than blue.
He reaches inside his sable waistcoat and retrieves the leather-bound tome. “You mean, this old thing?”
My eyes narrow. I sense a trick. “Wait, why aren’t you and Asher, you know . . .”
“Overcome by our primal urges?” He arches an infuriatingly sexy blue eyebrow. “Some of us can control our inner beasts . . . when we want to.”
As if just to toy with me, his irises suddenly pulse azure-blue, making his appearance too inhuman for my comfort. Mack gives a little squeak and jumps back a step.
Asher snorts, casting an amused look at the prince. “It’s midnight when you need to worry, little humans. Even the most controlled Fae won’t be able to harness their urge then.”
That’s when the prince and Rhaegar will fight. A twinge of unease settles between my shoulder blades, and I sweep a heavy gaze over the book, held carefully inside the prince’s long fingers. “Why are you giving the book to me if it might help Rhaegar win?”
