Chapter 39

PAST:

When he straightens he doesn't tower over me, but he stares just north of my head as if he does. His first blow lands somewhere south of his gaze. The second further south still, lower and lower, battering my face, nose, chest, until he's pummeling my gut. I remain rigid. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flinch, move, or cry out. I will not let him win. He will die trying to break me. I repeat the words in my mind so often they become like a melody stuck in an infinite loop, repeating its desperate tune. You will not break me. I am unbreakable.

He is angered at the rumor that I'd been spotted with the Elf, Adrius. We are friends, something that is not permitted. Today is a punishment, but he does not need a reason. This is my father's sick idea of sport. Instead of a battle between lions and humans pulled from their beds at night and whisked into our world, he uses me for his evening entertainment. A means to relax. And to show off his power to the onlooking Fey who follow him like starving dogs eager to devour any crumb he deigns to drop at his feet. They sicken me. Almost more than he does.

It takes several more blows before my mother enters and stops the festivities with a sharp rap of her staff. Everything grinds to a halt as the fissure she has just opened in the floor swallows half of my father's party whole.

I expect a retaliation. Some sort of counter move, to punish her for ruining his fun. Instead, he shoves me toward her, wheels around, and leaves. I drop to my knees in front of my mother, feeling a flood of gratitude for her well-timed entry. She lifts her staff and raps it across my head. The room spins rapidly before everything goes black.

I awake to find myself alone, naked, in the forest. I soon come to learn she's placed a spell around my home. Preventing me from reentering unless I prove my worth and pass some sort of test. I have no idea what this test even is. But I do everything I can during that time to learn. Every cruel trick, every battle maneuver, every magical weaponry I can glean from anyone willing to teach me. It is during this time of exile that my friendship with Adrius solidifies. We are true páirtí—even trading Faerie magic for a flaming Elvish blade.

We spend much of our time fighting together, side-by-side for years, until we let our feelings for a girl fracture that.

Eventually, I become strong enough to break through my mother's barrier and reenter my home, taking out half of her armies.

Years pass. Things change. Adrius and I are no longer friends. My father is put to death by the Wizards he so elegantly attempted to dethrone. Fool that he was. Always looking for a greater rush, never satisfied with what he had, like an addict, terminally salivating for more. He is dead and I am glad. But my mother still lives. And her wrath never ceases.

I face her that day, knowing it is the last time I will ever see her. She's learned of my association with not only the Elf, but also the Witch…Venus…and so, although I've proven myself worthy of my title of Prince of Unseelie, she casts me out. She too, it seems, craves power. But in place of sentencing me to death, she condemns me to live in the Shadow Realm, the place where all exiled Fey are sent.

She knows I will return. Prophecy predicts my enthronement, and it is not something she will permit to come to pass.

Eventually, I know my mother will come for me.

Come for my head and sever it.