Page 34 of Ravenrose

Running a hand over my face, I push back the crushing exhaustion I feel weighing on me. I haven’t slept in days. “I don’t have time for this,” I snarl, irritation and exhaustion moving to replace the initial outright rage at the sight of my gift.

“I think he thought—” Wyatt’s words are quiet, cautious, and when I turn to meet his eyes, I spy something unspoken as he trails off.

“Spit it out,” I snap, regretting it only slightly, since none of this is actually Wyatt’s fault.

“Because her brother is Fel…” Wyatt looks at me.

I feel my body go deathly still at the name, and slowly, I regard the princess again.

Princess.

Fel’s sister.

Vaguely, somewhere deep within some political history lesson, I knew there were three Valrose siblings, but since I knew the third was female, I hadn’t bothered to learn more, assuming she would be of little consequence.

Sitari females do not fight.

My eyes darken as I study her, looking for similarities between her and the elder crown prince. Her green eyes differ from her brother’s gold, but they are only half-siblings after all. I know that much. The reddish-brown hair color is familiar, though hers is darker.

Her body stiffens under my scrutiny, her eyes never leaving mine. I stare at her for another long moment, attempting to read the thoughts behind the dark evergreen of her eyes, noticing the thin ring of gold that encircles her iris before I wrench my gaze away, shaking my head to clear it.

Wheeling around, I move toward the tent entrance.

“Where’s Theo?” I growl at Wyatt as I pass him.

Wyatt doesn’t hesitate, giving up Theo immediately. “The armoury.”

And just like that, I have my new destination, stalking out of the tent without another look back.

Chapter 17

AYER

I’m gonna kill him.

I’m gonna flay him alive and roast his body on a spit like a rotisserie goose.

The prince isn’t hard to find. He’s exactly where Wyatt said he’d be: lingering just outside the armoury tent, discussing something with Gem, our blacksmith.

Theo’s eyes lift, and the son of stones smiles knowingly at the sight of me storming his way. My fist tightens at my side. It’s work to resist pummeling that shit-eating grin off of his face.

But as I get closer, it’s easier to see past Theo’s thin mask of amusement. Behind that all-too-familiar devilish smile and mischievous glint in his eyes, there’s an underlying weariness. A tension running through him that’s nearly undetectable, except that I know Theo better than anyone. And it’s for that reason, and that reason alone, I don’t throttle him where he stands.

“Did you get your present?” The prince smirks, blue eyes sparkling before they dart to Wyatt trailing me.

His words test my resolve not to throttle him, and my answering scowl elicits a chuckle.

“Explain!” I demand.

Still laughing, Theo dismisses Gem with a nod, starting back the way we came. “Yeah, okay,” he muses, regaining his composure as we walk through the cluttered war camp to his tent. “You know, most guys would have just said, ‘Thank you very much, Your Majesty,’ before disappearing into their tent for the next several hours.”

“We don’t take fae prisoners. I don’t take fae prisoners.” It’s a standing rule, as simple as that. I can’t imagine what Theo was thinking with this little stunt of his.

We reach Theo’s tent, but the prince doesn’t respond; he just surveys the surrounding area quickly before waving both Wyatt and me inside.

“She should have died when the wall fell,” I grumble, pacing the open space of Theo’s tent. It’s empty, save for the three of us.

“Yes, but you were the one who decided not to kill her. Not me. Remember?” Theo’s kind enough to remind me.