Page 5 of Treasured By the Fae Royal
I’m also the youngest fucking son and it’s doubtful my offspring would ever rule over what’s left of the Summer Court.
Ussha has continued spreading from the four fae courts at a rapid pace, an event our priestesses say heralds the dawn of a new age of total fae rule over the realm. The spread of ussha has caused many of our people to migrate from crowded fae courts to more rural areas once solely occupied by humans and orcs. It’s certainly possible that the four courts will have completely fallen by the time my brothers’ children, or my children, find themselves parentless.
Will my oldest brother’s heir even want to bother inheriting the crown of a fallen court? I think of the former fae courts, the courts that came before Summer, Spring, Autumn, and Winter. The Unseelie and Seelie courts. Those two courts, the first fae courts, are no more. My mother was once a Seelie queen, the very last Seelie queen, and the court she grew up in and later inherited is gone. Buried under volcanic ash by the gods themselves in an act of vengeance, or so our priestesses say.
Marry a human. Fucking fires, I’ve been commanded to marry a human. A human! Humans hold no power, no magic. What use will a mating union with a human bring other than creating children who will never inherit the throne of the Summer Court?
I release another growl and curse my father’s name. I could understand him ordering my oldest brother, Axton, to marry a human, but why me? I’m the youngest, and the possibility of my potential offspring inheriting the Summer Court throne is next to nil. For that to happen, my father and brothers, as well as my brothers’ children, would have to perish long before the final days of the Summer Court. Given how powerful my father and brothers are, it’s a near impossibility.
What’s not impossible, however, is the final breath of the Summer Court within my lifetime. It’s going to happen. I can feel it in my bones.
Not for the first time, I wonder if there’s a way to break the fucking curse. Gods know my father has spared no expense in the endeavor, but the high priestesses from all four courts say it cannot be achieved. They say the gods won’t assign or create fated mates for us, that our window of opportunity has long passed.
Yvette. I should take her. I should claim her. I should force her to marry me. Why not? I’m a Summer Court prince and the only fae I answer to is my own father who ordered me to marry a human, any human, in the first place. Warden Valloc can shove that letter of protection up his ass for all I care.
I fly in Yvette’s direction for a while, and as I near the area where I last saw her, a high-pitched scream pierces the sun-drenched afternoon. I slow my flight path and listen carefully. More screams rend the air. A female’s screams.
Ahumanfemale’s screams.
Fury ignites and worry invades my senses because… what if it’sher? The sudden prospect of any harm visiting Yvette leaves me both angry and… feeling something else that’s strangely akin to sorrow.
But that doesn’t make sense.
I scarcely know her, and there’s no way in fuck she’s my fated mate. Because I don’t have one.
I soar toward the area where I last saw her, following the continued screams as my anxiety deepens and my rage burns hot. If Yvette is indeed the female who’s screaming, I intend to tear her tormentor from limb to limb. I intend to make them pay.
At last, I spot movement on the ground. Over a dozen human males have Yvette surrounded, and two more males are manhandling her, trying to secure rope around her wrists. At least I think it’s Yvette. Tall and slender with dark hair, from my current vantage point, it looks like her. My anger heightens and I bolt in her direction. I fly as though I’m in the midst of battle and it’s life or death.
That’s the level of urgency I feel as I witness one of the male’s kick her legs out from beneath her. Fuck, no. My gut twists when that same man crawls atop her and lifts his hand as though preparing to strike her. Meanwhile, she reaches for a knife that’s laying in the dirt, though her fingers can’t quite grasp it.
I roar my rage and land on the scene in a blast of summer power that knocks the males to the ground and leaves them disoriented, including the man who’d been on top of Yvette. Shouts echo on the mountainside, and there’s a flurry of confusion as I approach the small dark-haired female on the ground.
My heart nearly stops. It’s indeed Yvette, and she’s hurt. Her lip is swollen and bleeding, and there are scratches on her face. I lift her in my arms and hold her close. She trembles and peers at me in disbelief, though I can’t help but wonder if she’ll see me as her savior or just another monster.
When I first began to look for her, it was with the intention of forcing her to become my bride. I never imagined hearing her screams and seeing her hurt would provoke such tender emotion within me. I glance at the human men who have us surrounded. All are now brandishing weapons. Knives, mostly, though one holds a sword and another grips an ax.
I also notice a nearby wagon that holds a large iron cage. It’s filled with dirty, frightened-looking humans. A growl rumbles from me as I refocus my attention on the men. Flesh traders. I continue growling as I bare my teeth at the men and turn in a slow circle, making eye contact with each of them. Most go pale and retreat a few steps.
“Gentlemen, do you honestly believe you stand a chance against me?” I flare my wings wider to remind them that I’m highborn. They don’t know I’m a Summer Court prince, but my wings are evidence enough that I’m highborn and therefore among the most powerful fae in existence.
“We don’t want any trouble,” one of the men says. “Please, just let us be on our way. You don’t even have to give us back that female. You can keep her for yourself if you want. Consider her a gift. Just let us take our wagon and be on our way.” He makes a show of putting away his knife and gestures for his men to follow suit.
I watch with great amusement as all the men put their weapons away. Fools. The urge to savage them bloody rises within me, but so does the need to keep Yvette in my arms. I don’t want to put her down for even a second. Not until I tend to her wounds and verify her wellbeing.
“That’s quite generous of you,” I finally reply. “Of course, of course, you may be on your way. All of you. Go now.Go.Now.” As I summon a deadly glamour, I continue spinning in a slow circle as I repeatedly make eye contact with each flesh trader.
It doesn’t take long for the glamour to work. Of course it doesn’t. I am Prince Lucas of the Summer Court, and killing a human takes very little effort on my part. I prefer executing humans with my bare hands or using a weapon. I prefer spurting blood and pain. But in this case, death by glamour will have to suffice. Because I’m still averse to putting Yvette down.
Suddenly, one of the men bolts toward a nearby cliff that overlooks the valley. He doesn’t slow his pace. As he approaches the cliff’s edge, he runs faster. He runs straight off the mountainside and plunges to his death. My sensitive ears pick up the impact of his body hitting the rocky ground far below.
Yvette gasps and tries to escape my arms, but I hold her tighter and make shushing noises as I watch the remaining flesh traders take off for the cliff.
One by one, they run off the mountainside and plunge to their well-deserved deaths. Satisfaction brims inside me. Each splat of their bodies, a noise so soft from this distance that I doubt Yvette can hear it, is music to my ears.
Dead. Dead.
Dead.
