Chapter 5

I disrobed in the cold, letting it sink into my skin. Bathing in tepid water, I examined the wounds that were slow to heal. A knife gash on my side was nearly closed. By morning it would be fully healed. The one on my head, though more painful, was less severe.

Memories of Lorelei tracked through my mind, leaving indelible footprints. There was little use pushing away the bad things. They came, regardless. Might as well welcome it, like an old friend. I've often thought of bad things that way. They kept me vigilant instead of keeping me in fear.

Uneven, dank walls were stained with moisture where moss and bracken grew between the massive cracks and fissures. It was a wonder anything could grow at all in this place. It was constantly humid…scorching hot during the day and blistering cold at night, and everything was tinted in shades of brown.

I was not fond of the dull, earthen-colored garments and cape I was forced to wear. But if I was to remain unrecognized, it was best not to be seen in the full Faerie knight garb I normally wore. Clad in nothing more than drab peasant pants tied loosely at the waist, I climbed into bed, inhaling the smell of earth and moss and fungus. Folding my hands behind my head, I stared up at the darkened ceiling, knowing full well that sleep would continue to evade me until I knew that she was safe.

A distraction. I need a distraction.

I left the bed to grab another jug of spirit and sit at the table.

Sleep took me after the third bottle of ale lay empty on the dirt-covered floor of the Dwarf's hovel.

I leaned my head against the table and let my eyes drift shut. I did not recall the last time I dreamt so often, but this night, my sleep was filled with them.

I was standing over a girl—young, beautiful, human—or nearly so. She lay asleep in her bed, sheets tangled about her long legs. I had come to protect her. To see to it she was not suffering, neither from her gifts nor from our bargain. I knew how the gift of song weighed on her. And yet in truth, it was no real gift at all. She was in possession of magnificence before I came to her. I only gave a little nudge to bring it forth. It was meant to be a gentle push, in the direction best suiting her. Little did I know at the time that it was not.

I had not anticipated the fear and trepidation she would feel with each performance. The need she clung to, of having me there for fear of failing. And the vomit. That alone was indication of my failed intention. Still she performed. For me, as I'd requested. And I came to her, my heart growing heavier with each visit.

The days in between became unbearable, and I found myself seeking opportunities to visit. Each one played out in perfect, agonizing clarity in my sleep. The way her hair curled perfectly around her ear. The way her lips parted slightly as she breathed in rhythmic slumber. It became more than I could bear…a moment of weakness…a fascination that was fast becoming an obsession.

I left her alone after the performance anxiety reached that level. Not completely. I didn't wake her or send her any more music, but I still watched her, following her movements beyond what I was requested to do. I watched and waited for her to sing my music again. On her own. Without my coercion. I wanted her to sing it for me.

Night upon night I would sit outside her room, in the nook of the tree that stretched to her window. On some nights, I found myself drawn inside. The melodies playing in her sleep called to me in such a powerful way that I couldn't keep from entering. Such agonizing beauty in her voice. Music that could still the waves and quiet a storm as easily as it could rip a heart in two. It was no wonder so many insipid humans lusted after her. And I despised them for it.

Beauty radiated in and through her. It shone from her face, her body, and her songs. They felt it too, and I did not want to share her with them. She was mine, though I'd no claim to her. Never before had I felt such a powerful need to keep her safe and see her happy. In that moment I knew I had to fight these urges, or be consumed alive by them.

I hadn't mentioned the kiss to anyone. Not even to her. In her mind it still to this day remained a dream—distant, hazy, and fictional. Like so many of her thoughts were during that time. To take what was not mine to take was a lifelong habit. I'd no idea it could cause such massive confusion. Such turmoil. Such depth of yearning. Such insufferable pain.

I saw no use in revealing that small truth to her. The way she'd stirred in her bed when I leaned over her to sweep her hair across her shoulder. The way she raised her head, lifting her lips to mine in her sleep. There was no sense in bringing it to light, when she clearly was not ready to embrace any of this.

Had the Elf told me of his plan to confront her that very eve—to force her into our world and onto her path, I'd have… in truth I don't know what I'd have done differently. Inevitably it would have involved some sort of dismemberment. I'd been waiting for the opportunity to remove his head from the rest of his arrogant body. Had I not seen the look in her eyes, the way she lit up inside when she saw him…the way her fingers curled so perfectly around his…I might have. But to tear him down would have been to tear her apart as well. I could not do it. Not then. Not now.

The last image in my dreams was the one of us in the garden, so close I could taste her breath on my lips; then all too soon it was gone. Something pulled me from sleep.

My head rolled groggily as I listened. The ale must have dulled my senses for I was pulled from my dream by the sound of approaching footsteps. Someone was coming. I'd had far too much of the blasted Faerie wine, too little food, and the wound in my side still burned. It had been a long battle to gain this much ground, slaying multiple opponents, usually at the same time. Scars were part of the plan, but this one was taking its time in healing.

"Anyone in there?"

I knew the voice, as I'd known his footfalls. Sylos.

The door swung open, yet I could scarcely lift my head to draw my sword. No need. I knew he was no threat.

A gruff voice scoffed as heavy-booted feet stepped inside.

"And to think I'd searched the ends of the realm, only to find you hiding out in a Dwarf dwelling."

Torchlights flickered to life, and I winced against their shine. Darkness was preferable.

"Sorry, too bright? Too bad," he said, as he stormed into the room. "You been here all night?"

I lifted my head and met the smirk of an old friend. Sylos was a trusted knight of the Shadow Court, and one of the few Fey who knew me as I knew myself.

Leaning my head back, I threw one arm over my eyes, waiting for the pounding to subside. A whiff of flowers passed by me as he closed the door. They reminded me of her. Everything did.

This is madness. The idea was to not think of her, and yet she was more on my mind than ever. I could remember her lips as if I felt them still. Soft. Trembling. Yielding. Warm, and then growing cool as she kissed me back. Ripping myself free from her took every ounce of strength I did not know I possessed.

To deny oneself pleasure was a form of madness among the Fey. An act unknown and unpracticed by most. But I swore that day that I would not steal a kiss from her again. If there was to be another, it would be given freely. How odd that even now, having shared a few such intimacies, we still had not truly exchanged our kisses freely. Forces from one side or another propelled us together, and held us that way. It was not the same when she kissed Adrius. I knew it. And yet, I couldn't help but recall with vivid soul-crushing clarity the feel of those lips pressed to mine.

Gruff hands shook me, again cutting my visions short.

"Zanthiel? Are you awake, mate?"

"I'd thank you to stop doing that," I muttered.

He snorted under his breath, then moved to the window to open the shutters. Sunlight streamed in with the mist of morning.

"I've been searching everywhere for you. The Queen, your mother, is enraged. She has every one of her spies and the whole of the Winter Guard on your trail. Yours and—" He looked about the room, suddenly concerned. "Where is the girl? Please do not tell me you did some foolhardy thing, like sending her back to her world alone?"

"I did not."

"Good." He sighed audibly. Reaching for the only unopened bottle, he pulled the cork out with his teeth, then took a long swig of ale.

"I sent her back with the Elf."

Sylos gagged, spewing amber liquid across the floor. It sank into the earth, staining it a darker shade of dirt, and adding to the rank stench of the hovel I'd been forced to hide in.

"You what?"

"Cúl tóna," I swore under my breath, holding my head. "Must you speak so loudly?"

"Surely you cannot be serious."

"I am."

"Then you're an even bigger fool than I'd heard tell." He stomped to the door and slammed it, hard. "Would you please get up, mate?"

I sat up, massaging the back of my neck. With the thin ray of light streaming through the broken window, I could see the surroundings that had become my temporary home. Four empty, brown bottles lay tipped by the hearth. Two more were shattered against the corner wall. It had been a long few nights.

I stared at my old friend Sylos, with his long, thick, dread-locked hair that reached his waist. His skin was the color of cocoa, his eyes were silver and gold, and he had all the subtlety of a vat of ice water.

Thinking about the past was something I steadfastly avoided. Yet it seemed all I could do of late. Every new encounter dredged up painful memories of a past I'd rather leave buried. And now here was fate banging on my door once again, reminding me I would never be allowed to forget.

"Why in great green havens would you do such a thing? She was as good as yours. I saw it with my own eyes. Those kisses exchanged for the benefit of the Mythlandrian Court…they were not the pretense you'd have us believe they were. She was all but falling into you mate, no girl could feign such desire."

I jabbed a finger in his direction. "I will not discuss her with you," I snapped, my anger dropping the temperature in the room.

Heeding the warning, Sylos merely shook his head. "What will you do then? Hmm?" His breath fogged in the air. "Go on the run forever? Hide from your mother for the next millennium?" He took another swig of ale, then handed the bottle to me. I pushed it away.

His eyes narrowed. "You—the Dark Prince of Unseelie—have let go of the girl you are engaged to marry. Assuming you plan on retaining your life and that pretty little head of yours, tell me…what exactly is your next move?"