Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Five Elven Princes

I woke up shivering.

Peeling open my bleary eyes, I saw the shutters were open and ice had gathered on the ledge. Despite the howling wind, my curtain hung stiff, frozen.

I frowned, confused. I had definitely latched the window.

The hair on the back of my neck rose, and gooseflesh trailed down my arms as a deep sense of fear ran my blood cold.

I was not alone.

I reach for my knife, which I kept beneath my pillow, but as my fingers brushed the hilt, it disappeared.

“Fuck!”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” said a voice. “Such language.”

I rolled onto my back, intending to reach for my ax, which rested on the bedside table where I left it, but my eyes caught on a figure leaning against the wall of my room. He was tall, thin, and ethereal. The tips of pointed ears peeked out from his long black hair, which slipped over his shoulder, as shiny as moonlight on dark water.

He wore a black wool overcoat trimmed in gold, leggings, and heavy black boots, the foot of one propped flat against the wall behind him.

He was an elf, and judging by the finery of his clothing, a lord.

“Fuck,” I said again.

This wasn’t good.

He, like all types of fae, had come from the Enchanted Forest. I had no doubt he had come to seek retribution for the toad I had killed.

A hand gripped my chin hard as something sharp trailed down the side of my face. Blood welled.

“Foul human,” said another voice, a wet tongue skating over the wound. “Foul mouth.”

I tried to move but couldn’t and only managed to sink my nails into the arm of my attacker, dragging them downward.

I felt his skin gather beneath my nails, and the creature hissed, his hand tightening on my face as he jerked my head back.

Now I could see his face, which was similar to the other elven lord’s, though somehow more vicious, and instead of dark hair, his was bright blond. His fingers dug into my jaw so hard, I thought he might tear it away.

“Release her, Sephtis,” said a third voice.

But he did not loosen his hold. If anything, it tightened, and he bent over me, eyes boring into mine, irises red-tinged and unnerving.

“Why should I?” he asked, his voice so low it was as if he were posing the question to me.

A hand seemed to appear out of thin air and jerked Sephtis’s free, and another elf came into view. This one looked the same as the first—dark-haired and beautiful. Only his eyes were different, a strange, mossy color, neither completely green nor completely brown.

“You were supposed to keep an eye on him, Lore,” said the new elven lord, and I assumed he was talking to the first elf, the one who had taken my knife.

Sephtis glared.

“Here to spoil our fun, Silas?” he asked.

My stomach soured at Sephtis’s idea of fun.

The blond jerked away and then fell into place between Lore and Silas. Two others had joined us since, one with amber-colored eyes and one who bore a deep scar on the left side of his face.

There were five of them in total. Five elven lords, four of whom were dark-haired, but they all looked the same, even the blond. The only variation was in their expressions, ranging from most severe to least. They stood at the end of my bed, blocking me in.

“Will anyone else be joining us?” I snapped, voice as frigid as my room.

“You could not handle any more of us, vicious thing,” said Lore. “Careful what you wish for.”

“I made no wish,” I said vehemently. I knew the consequences of careless wishing and had seen it with my own eyes.

I wish you were dead!I had yelled at my sister, and then she was.

“She is a tiny thing,” said Silas.

“A vicious thing,” said Sephtis.

“She killed our brother,” said the one with the scar.

“Your brother?” I asked, feeling the color drain from my face.

“Look, Talon! Her face is as pale as snow!” said Sephtis. He seemed the angriest and the scariest.

“You know of what we speak, human,” said the one with amber eyes whose voice was quiet and calm.

“I did not kill an elf,” I said.

“But you killed a toad,” said Lore.

“Bashed him over the head with a rock,” said Sephtis.

“You buried him at the edge of the Enchanted Forest,” said Talon.

I swallowed a thickness that had gathered in my throat.

“I had no choice,” I said, the words a fierce whisper. I knew they were futile. No one in Elk or the world beyond cared why I had done what I had done, only that there were consequences. “There was a curse.”

“There is always a curse, always a choice,” said Silas.

“You could have chosen to break our brother’s curse rather than your town’s curse,” said Lore. “He would have made you his queen out of gratitude for your rescue.”

“But alas, you bashed his brains instead, and so we must punish you,” said Sephtis, a hungry glint in his red eyes.

“How was I to know he was anything but a toad?” I demanded.

“That is the folly of your human blood, to take everything as it appears and not as it is,” said Silas.

“And is it the folly of elves to take everything as it is and not as it appears?”

“Foolish human,” said Lore. “We have no flaws.”

“Then how did your brother end up as a toad in a well?”

“He is no longer a toad in a well,” said Talon. “He is dead in a hole.”

All the elves spoke with a cold civility, save the one with amber eyes who had only spoken once since he arrived. They were not here because they loved their brother. This was about honor. It was the justice demanded by the Forest.

There was a beat of silence as the five elven lords exchanged looks.

“You shall spend six years as our seventh brother’s prisoner,” said Silas.

“I only count five of you,” I said.

“Our seventh is a beast,” said Sephtis, but I could not imagine anything more terrifying than him, who had cut me so easily and tasted my blood.

“He cannot be worse than all of you,” I snapped, though dread seeped into my veins as I spoke those words. Somehow, I knew he was worse.

“I suppose you will find out,” said Silas.

There was a beat of silence as I stared at the five, uncertain of what happened now. Would they march me through the forest to the doorstep of their seventh brother’s kingdom?

“Where is your seventh brother?” I asked, considering how quickly I could reach for my ax, which still sat on the table near my bed. I could feel its presence burning my skin, I wanted it in hand so badly. “Why is he not here?”

“No one has seen the Thorn Prince, not in nearly ten years,” said Lore.

“How can you be certain he is a beast?”

“Because we’re all beasts,” said Sephtis, a smirk on his face.

I reached for my ax.

The movement sent a shock of pain up my side. It squeezed my lungs and held on to my breath, making me dizzy. Still, I shot to my feet, unsteady on the lumpy bed, and lifted the ax over my head, angling for the elf closest to me, when a great wave of magic hit me square in the chest.

I fell, but instead of my knees striking the hard floor of my room, I hit lush carpet. Despite the softer landing, every injured part of my body screamed and a pained cry tore from deep in my throat.

It was too late to swallow, and still I slammed my mouth shut, grinding my teeth against the pain, though it was nothing compared to the sudden sense of dread that numbed my body as a cold, sensual voice dripped over my skin.

“Well, what have we here?”

Slowly, my gaze rose over shiny black boots and well-muscled legs clad in black leggings. They were so tight, they left nothing to the imagination. My eyes widened at the indecent outline of his cock, something that would normally be covered by a long tunic, except he was shirtless, the hard lines of his abs and powerful shoulders on display, obscured only by a ring and a white tooth which hung at the end of two silver chains.

I took him in—all of him—before meeting his gaze.

Black eyes stared back, and while it felt ridiculous to say, they were so dark, they felt almost endless like the well. A sudden fear seized me, an instinctive knowledge that if I drew too close, I might fall into those eyes.

This was the seventh brother—the beast.

He looked like his siblings, the dark-haired ones, but there was still something different about him, something harder and darker. His forehead was high, his cheekbones too, and his lips were full and colorless.

He was beautiful and cold, like winter in Elk.

My fingers closed around the handle of my ax, and I rose to my feet.

“Stay back!”

His lips curled into a wicked grin.

“Oh, vicious creature,” he said. “Are you here to kill me?”

“If you give me a reason,” I replied, tightening my hold.

“I could give you three.”

“I do not need three,” I said. “One will suffice.”

He chuckled quietly, never losing that mischievous glint in his eyes.

“One then,” he said, and his smile slowly faded. “Kill me…before I kill you.”

His words hit harder than my fall down the well, and before I lifted my ax, he was behind me, his hand on my throat. I could feel his long nails pressing into my skin. He drew my head back to the point that I thought my neck would break.

Several sharp pricks stung my palm, and I hissed at the pain, dropping my ax. The handle had grown thorns. With my hands free, I reached for the beast’s at my throat, but even as I sunk my own nails into his skin, he did not move.

“Vicious thing,” he said, and I could feel his lips against my cheek. “Vicious fae.”

“Don’t call me that,” I said between my teeth.

He chuckled, fingers pressing deeper.

“Which word? Vicious or fae?”

Being fae, no matter how little, had never served me. The villagers whispered that my blood had killed my mother and it had not saved my sister from the forest.

It had, though, ensured I would always be alone. I had no family, no friends, no lovers.

The prince’s voice rumbled against my skin, and I felt it in my chest. He spoke slowly, his lips trailing along my jaw, and I hated the way it made me feel, too conscious of the emptiness between my thighs, of the heat roiling in my gut, fueled by the press of his cock against my ass.

I hated it, and yet I pressed into him harder. I almost wished he would hurt me so I could stop these awful feelings firing through my veins.

“You know which word,” I seethed, my voice fierce but quiet. I could not speak any louder. I could barely breathe.

“But you are fae,” he said.

“Not enough to tell,” I said.

I was not even sure when my blood had come to mix with the fae I only knew it had been many great-grandfathers ago. No matter how many years passed, the people of Elk remembered, and the fae, they always knew.

“Enough for me to taste.”

His free hand splayed across my hip, and my nails bit into him to keep from guiding him lower, to the heat between my legs.

“Tell me, she who does not wish to be fae, why have you come?”

“I didn’t…not of my own accord,” I said.

“Do you want to know what I think?”

I swallowed hard, and the pressure of his hand was heavy against my throat.

“I’d rather you let me go.”

“You shouldn’t lie to an elven prince,” he said, and his hand began to gather the hem of my shift. My muscles tightened even more, screaming as I remained against him.

“What makes you think I’m lying?”

“Shall I give you three reasons?” he asked.

“One will suffice,” I said again, though I could barely recall what he had said or what I had wanted to say, my mind so clouded with a lustful wish to feel him inside me.

Wish.

Great consequences came from careless wishes, even unspoken. One never knew who was listening, even to thoughts.

“Not once have you tried to run,” he said.

For the first time, I jerked in his arms.

“Ah, ah, ah, vicious creature,” he said, and suddenly he was in front of me, his hand never leaving my neck as he guided me back, pinning me against a wall. Every part of his body rested against mine, hard and aroused, and I was a willing prisoner to it, melting into something soft and supple.

I did not recognize myself.

“Answer my question. Bend to my will. Why have you come, sweet one?”

As he spoke, his lips touched my cheek.

“I told you—”

He pulled away, and I met his endless dark eyes.

“Not of your own accord but someone’s. Whose?”

“If you cannot guess, then perhaps you have no right to know.”

“No right?” he asked and inclined his head. “Bold words, vicious one, when you are in my kingdom, beneath my roof, within my arms.”

I glared at him and jerked on his arm, his hand still around my neck.

“I would hardly call this in your arms.”

He smirked and leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “And yet you respond.”

Then his lips touched my skin, and I held my breath, pressing my head into the wall as hard as I could.

“Hmm, you are sweet,” he said, his tongue tasting. “I could eat you whole.”

His free hand had gone to the hem of my nightgown again. His fingers slipped between my thighs, but he did not move to the place where I ached. I felt ashamed because he had to feel the heat radiating from me. I felt it everywhere.

“Are you wet for me, vicious creature?”

I kept my eyes shut, my fingers digging into his skin. I wanted to beg for his touch just as much as I wanted to bury an ax in his chest.

The beast lifted my leg and hitched it over his hip, leaning into me. His hard cock pressed into me, coaxing a harsh sound from deep in my throat. Our mouths opened against each other. For a brief second, his tongue darted out to taste mine, and then he chuckled. His laugh slithered over me, feeding both my anger and embarrassment.

I took that moment to charge, pushing him away so violently, he stumbled back enough for me to bolt. I snatched my ax from the floor and fled the room, but as soon as I was out the door, I found myself in a hallway that looked like a wooded lane. My feet now raced over cold ground, past several naked trees that seemed to bow over me. Where before I had been warm within the elf lord’s room, here, the wind whipped me, each cold lash making me tremble.

There was a part of me that did not understand how I had seemed to be within the walls of a castle and was now suddenly running through the woods, but I also knew I had no time to question the magic of the Thorn Prince’s kingdom.

I had to run as far away as possible before he caught me.

As I ran, the path grew narrow, as if the trees were creeping closer. Soon there was no path at all, only the leaf-ridden floor of a wooded forest. Above me, the trees groaned and reached for me, their great limbs coming down on me like clawed fingers. They scratched and split my skin, and I swiped at them with my ax, but some still managed to become tangled within my shift and tore the thin fabric. My sleeve hung off my shoulder, the neckline gaped, and the hem was in tatters. Still, I managed to free myself, escaping the vile wood as it let out into a field that looked more like an endless ocean, the night too dark to see what lay at my feet, but I could feel it.

The ground was tender and wet, and my feet sank in cold mud. I could barely stay upright. I slipped and my ankle twisted. The pain sent me to the ground, and I landed hard on my hands and knees when something sharp wrapped around my legs and squeezed. I screamed and rolled onto my back as thorned vines crawled up my legs, digging deep into my skin. They slithered up my body until they were wrapped around my wrists, holding them over my head, and suddenly, I was face-to-face with the beast.

The prince hovered over me, his face inches from mine, the pendants of his necklaces rested against my chest. Instead of thorns, his fingers dug into my wrists, and his ankles were tangled with mine.

“My brothers sent you,” he said and rested his body against mine. “Are you a spy?”

“Do I look like a spy?” I spat.

His eyes dropped to my breasts, exposed. My nipples had pebbled, hard from the cold, hard from his gaze, which flashed as it returned to mine.

“You look like a distraction.”

“Then perhaps you should let me go,” I said.

“I cannot let you go,” he said. “You must earn your right to be free.”

“My right?” I asked, the words fierce. I lifted my head, drawing closer to him, lips nearly touching. “I was sent here against my will.”

“You were sent here as my prisoner,” he said. “Which will it be, vicious one? Six years with me or a chance to be free?”

I glared at him, breathing hard.

“If you knew, why didn’t you lock me up from the start?”

He smirked. “Who said I keep my prisoners locked up?”

“Where do you keep them then?”

“Shouldn’t you ask where I will keep you?”

I did not answer, and the longer he stared at me, the more I wished to disappear. Perhaps the ground would open up and swallow me whole so I would not have to face how I felt beneath him.

After a few seconds, he spoke.

“Guess my true name,” he said.

I blinked. “What?”

“You have seven days to guess my true name, and I will set you free.”

I took several deep breaths as I processed his proposal. I was not so eager to be free that I would blindly jump at the first offer. All deals with fae—especially elves—were traps.

“How many guesses do I have?”

“As many as you wish,” he said.

“I do not speak in wishes,” I said.

He raised a brow. “Don’t you?”

I ground my teeth. “Say it another way.”

He chuckled. “As many as you would like.”

“Will you keep count?”

He smirked.

“Clever creature,” he said. “Of course.”

“I thought so.”

I would have to be careful with my answers and keep them to a minimum.

“And if I fail?”

“Then you fail,” he said. “And you will be my prisoner for six years, plus one year more for every wrong answer you give.”

“And what are the consequences of guessing correctly?”

His smile turned wicked, his gaze shrewd, and I caught a glimpse of what lurked beneath his skin—perhaps the true beast.

“Speak my name and find out.”

I stared at him, weighing my options, all with dire consequences.

Even if I did manage to guess the beast’s name correctly, what sort of evil would I unleash?

And did it really matter if I was free?

“I’ll guess your name,” I said.

His answer was a grin.