Prince of Never: A Fae Romance (Black Blood Fae Book 1)
Prince of Never: Chapter 14

Lara

For a whole week after our disturbing encounter in the narrow stairwell, Ever haunts the court like a ghost. He becomes a broad set of shoulders disappearing around a corner, a shock of golden hair flying in the distance atop Jinn, an angry scowl in a crowd of rowdy courtiers passing by the vegetable gardens.

And I don’t mind one bit. Yep. It’s a good thing, I tell myself over and again until I almost believe it.

Being kissed by the Prince of Air was an experience I’m in no hurry to repeat. Languishing in his arms, drunk on the touch of his lips, at the mercy of his stroking fingers, it was horrible. No thanks, never again.

So, rather than give in to his whims and become another conquest, I prefer to suffer his anger. Let him go around pretending I don’t exist while he abuses the city with foul weather, raging storms, violent lightning, and deafening thunder like a spoiled brat.

Yes. Being ignored by the Prince of Air is so much better than swooning in his merciless embrace.

Since the Merit feast, I haven’t been invited back to serve the court meals. Instead of waitressing, I keep busy with Magret in the gardens, working until I’m so tired I’m asleep each night before my head hits the pillow. Which is great because then there’s no time to miss Aunt Clare and Isla when I’m alone in the dark.

Most days, I visit the elves, practicing my singing exercises as I walk through the forest, hiding under the tree canopy from Ever’s constant downpours of rain. That guy definitely has anger-management issues.

It’s not a bad life, really, being trapped here at Talamh Cúig. The servants grow friendlier each day. And some kind soul is sneaking treats into my room—strange plants and books—and even a delicately rendered mural of a wild hunt has appeared on the once-barren walls, the scene so bright and vivid I swear sometimes I see the procession of horses move out the corner of my eye.

Today, after visiting the red willow, I’m planning to return to my room and change my wet clothes before resuming work, when I hear the órga falcons crying in the skies above. Unfortunately, I know what that sound means—the broody cause of my current drenched state cannot be far away.

As I near the high garden walls, I spy him, the Prince of Air, a striking figure in all his battle-gear glory, sword training with Kian. Above him in the sky, three sylphs twirl, their shimmering, metallic bodies transparent, silver hair trailing behind them like wispy clouds, purple wings all aflutter with excitement.

Kian and Ever’s massive blades clash and clang in a violent frenzy, and I shiver when I realize I have to walk right by them to pass through the side gate that leads down to my room.

Battle practice is normally held in the onyx courtyard on the other side of the city. I wonder why they chose to fight here today?

Focusing on my brown boots squelching through mud, I ignore what I’m certain is an impressive display of combat skills and plod onward. I won’t look. I don’t need to see Ever in tight leather armor, metal accents flashing with every movement of his muscle-wrapped arms. Nope. Totally boring.

But when I’m close, my stupid eyes dart up and catch Ever’s gaze as he parries, then strikes. His sword still slashing through the air, he stares as I slink past. One second, two, three and our gazes are still locked.

This is ridiculous. Someone is going to lose a limb here, but neither of us seems prepared to look away first. Kian’s sword hits Ever’s shoulder guard with a sickening thunk, and despite my best intentions to keep moving, I stop and watch.

Flicking back his bright-red hair, Kian gives a delighted laugh. “I could have chopped you in half! Finally, I strike a killing blow to the Prince of Air, the kingdom’s first Champion of Swords—”

Eyes back on his opponent at last, Ever attacks again, the noise brutal as it clangs through the air.

Kian continues to taunt, listing Ever’s titles in a condescending fashion. “The gallant Governor of the Four Winds that bind all things together and—”

Ever slashes more fiercely. Clang. Clang. Clang.

“—the luscious Lord of Mental Acuity. The merciless Master of Falcons and Eagles. Come to think of it, the powers of your mind have been severely lacking, of late, my friend.”

Two more steps and Ever has Kian squeezed flat against the stone wall with a forearm at his throat, and in his other hand, a dagger biting into tender skin. A confetti of honeysuckle flowers tumbles over them.

“I yield, my prince. Go easy.” Kian glances in my direction, laughing. “Oh look. We have captured the attention of your human pet. I see now why you were so distracted. Is this the reason you insisted we train here today?”

Ever lets his sword drop, pointing it at the ground. He steps backward, sheathing the dagger at his thigh, and faces me. Chest pumping with exertion, his silver gaze burns through me, but he says nothing.

“Tell us, Lara.” Kian pushes off the wall, rearranging his azure cape to a dashing angle. “What do you think of your prince’s swordsmanship? Did you think he cut a fine figure as he bested me?”

I roll my eyes and move off.

When I’m three steps away, Ever says, “Wasp, wait. Did you have permission to leave your duties?”

So, we’re back to nasty name-calling, are we?

“Yes, Prince Never, I took a break from gardening. What business is it of yours?”

Kian looks thrilled, his cornflower-blue eyes darting between us as if we’re performing especially for his benefit. The prince’s friend is a first-rate troublemaker if ever I’ve met one.

“What did you do today in the forest?” Ever’s voice is low, dangerous. It angers me and, before I can stop it, the truth erupts out my mouth like hot, destructive lava.

“Nothing that would be of interest to you. I took food to the moss elves. That’s all.”

“What?” both fae utter at the same moment.

Try as he might, Ever can’t control his expression. It’s a very pleasing sight. He looks shocked. Amazed. Every murderous thought drifts across his perfect face like storm clouds over a brilliant sky.

Folding my arms, I widen my stance, prepared to go into battle. “If you want the whole truth, I’ve been sneaking vegetables from the garden and taking them to the forest.”

Knuckles whiten around his black sword hilt. “Why would you do that?”

I think of Magret and the many ways she might be punished for helping me and deeply regret speaking so rashly.

“The better question is why would you useless Ornamental fae, not take food to the moss elves yourselves? What’s the point of you people—creatures, faeries—or whatever you are?”

“You silly human,” Kian scolds. “We’re Elementals not Ornamentals.”

Ever’s scowl grows. “I think she’s aware of that.”

“You’re completely useless,” I say, wanting to make him hate me even more. Maybe then he’ll shove me through the nearest portal back to my world, back to my own life. My heart clenches at the thought of Isla and Aunt Clare.

Two giant steps and his heaving chest is an inch from mine. “You know nothing about me, mortal.” His voice vibrates with an animal undertone, not quite a growl, but it’s an inhuman sound. His dark scowl is impressive, the wicked pout of his top lip even more so. It’s decadent. Succulent. Deliciously lickable.

What am I thinking? He’s a beast. Unnatural. Dangerous. Horrible.

And beautiful.

With a shake of my head, I snap myself out of his spell, for it must be a glamor he’s using to entrance me, to seduce me into doing his bidding. What were we arguing about? Oh yes. That’s right. Nothing. “And you know nothing about me,” I counter.

Silver beams track down to my boots, then slowly up to my face. “You’d be surprised what I know about you.”

“Oh, really—”

“Please, Ever,” says Kian. “Get the bedding of this strange little thing over and done with. The tension revolts me.”

Ever’s head jerks toward his friend. “She is not a thing.”

“Whatever you say.” Kian waves a hand through the air, gold dust trailing behind. It figures he’d have earth magic. “Just get it over with and put us all out of our misery.”

Running fingers through his messy hair, Ever seems lost for words. I wait for him to speak, but the silence soon becomes unbearable.

“Feel free to stand there like a spoiled brat,” I say. “Let me know when you’ve decided my punishment for helping your subjects, the elves. In the meantime, I’m going to change out of my wet clothes. Thanks for drenching the whole kingdom in your bad mood this morning, Prince of Never.”

I stalk off, my breath tight as I wait to see or feel what he’ll do to me. Throw a sword at my head maybe? Or suck my lungs dry?

Twenty steps toward the garden gate and nothing happens. As the gate’s metal hinges creak, the rhythmic clash of swords starting again behind me is music to my ears.

I think I might live to see another day.