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“I won’t win any battles here. You have magic. A whole court. I have nothing. I won’t win against you.”
I’d rather uphold the bargain and be on my way. It’s easier. Safer.
“What makes you think I’m your enemy?” He cocks a brow.
I scoff, my features scrunching. “Uh, the fact that you trapped me here.”
“Did I trap you? Or did I give you exactly what you sought?”
I pause, his words catching me off guard.
“What did you seek when you crossed the Gleam?” he asks, his voice softening.
“Safety,” I mutter. “Freedom.”
He points to the bed, then to the empty tray of food on the table beside it. Then gestures toward my outfit.
“You are clean. Fed. Healed. Safe.” He stands, striding to me. I’m forced to look up to hold his gaze. “So, I will ask you again, human, what makes you think I’m your enemy?”
The heat radiates off his body, and his delicious scent makes my head swim. Quickly, I back away, putting space between us.
His features tighten. “And to answer your question from earlier: the point is to take back your power. No one will do it for you.”
“Fighting a battle I know I’ll lose sounds exhausting.” There’s a squeezing sensation in my ribs, and I can’t breathe. I mask it by focusing on my inhales and fiddling with the hem of my tunic.
“So you’d rather submit and let others take advantage of you? Dictate your life?”
“It’s not like that,” I whisper.
“Isn’t it though?”
I shake my head, whispering, “No.”
“Fighting is hard, but yielding is harder. One is about dying to survive, and the other? Surviving only to slowly die. Choose your hard.”
His words shred a layer inside of me, revealing a new truth I’d never considered. My eyes slowly meet his. My stomach flutters.
“You never answered my question when you arrived.” He strides toward me again, and with each of his steps, my heart rate increases. “Who made you bleed?”
“They were old wounds that had scabbed over. And the—the,” I stutter, unsettled with the faerie prince’s attention on me. “The scab must’ve come off during the ride here.”
He places a single, strong finger under my chin, gently tipping my head up and forcing me to look at him. His jaw tightens. He leans in, so close that his warm breath fans across my face, causing every nerve in my body to perk up.
“I didn’t ask how it happened. I asked who did it to you.”
The deadly tone and attentiveness evokes a newfound dread in me.
Though I’ve always been submissive and compliant with the lord—acting up put me in a worse situation—I never had an issue with my confidence. But in front of the faerie prince? Well, I can’t seem to shake the way he watches me. It makes me self-conscious.
“The Lord of Lyson,” I whisper. “I’ve served him and his lady at their estate in a small village near the Gleam since I was five.” Rainer’s lips tighten. “The lord likes hurting others.” I tuck my chin, knotting my tunic in my hands. “The only friend I had stabbed him to protect me and got herself killed because of it.”
He stays still, watching me. Waiting for me to continue, I think.
“I ran because if they caught me, I’d be executed. The lord’s property is near the Gleam, so I crossed it in hopes to find safety. Like I said earlier, freedom.”
Rainer runs a hand through his dark waves. His expression is grim, as if he’s conflicted.
I try to ignore how ethereally handsome he is, but it’s impossible. Heat floods my cheeks and I nibble nervously on my lip. Despite my ability to remain calm under pressure, I’m terrible at hiding my emotions. The last thing I need is for him to think I’m attracted to him, so I stand and face the window, putting my back to him.
