Chapter 1

1

CALAN

T he clash of blades echoes around me. Dark, smooth obsidian meets piercing metal as the priests attempt to hold off Draven and his army.

The Night Prince himself stands near the front of the procession, a cold, cunning smile stretching and distorting the scar on his face.

I take a step away from the window instinctively as a strange calmness envelops me. Usually, it’s a cold sensation, like icicles pricking at my skin, but just now, it feels warm. Heated, almost.

I attempt to look at everything analytically. Facts. Facts I can deal with. It’s when pesky emotions or feelings are involved that things begin to get murky.

Fact one, Draven and his army of Night soldiers are attacking Gaia’s temple.

Fact two, he arrived much quicker than he would’ve if he came from the Night Kingdom, which means he must have a base nearby. But where? The Day Court? The Summer Court palace? I suppose it doesn’t matter. Draven’s reach has proven to be infinite.

Fact three, he’s here for Kassandra.

He didn’t say her name out loud, but there’s only one girl in the vicinity fascinating enough to warrant an attack.

Fact four, the bastard planted fake dreams into my head, luring me here. No, not me. Kassandra. All of this has been orchestrated in an attempt to kidnap the bewitching female.

Rage sludges through my veins, cool and sticky like tar, and creates a dark-red tint that obscures my vision.

How dare he impersonate my dead brother?

How dare he lead me and Kassandra here?

How fucking dare he?

And fact number five, the most damning of all, Kassandra—my mate—is gone.

Gone.

Whisked away during the battle by an unknown foe.

My heart crawls up my throat like a hairy spider as I once again glance in both directions, searching for Kassandra’s shock of golden hair. All I see is the intricate statue of Gaia, her face serene and her arms extended as if she wishes to pull me into a hug.

Mocking me.

Yes, it almost appears as if the statue is mocking me.

Why would the goddess bring a mate into my life just to wrench her away? I may not necessarily want a lover, but with Kassandra…

It feels different.

She feels different.

The icy numbness that has characterized my life for far too long has begun to melt. I’m not sure what will be left of me when the final barrier dissipates, leaving me raw and vulnerable, nothing but a beating organ exposed for attack.

“Where is she?” I bare my teeth at Gaia, but of course, the stone statue doesn’t reply. She just continues to stare at me with eerie, vacant eyes, her robust body decorated with an assortment of flowers and vines. “WHERE IN GAIA’S NAME IS SHE?”

Something cold touches the back of my neck. Almost instantly, my body seizes as if it’s been struck by lightning. Every muscle goes taut.

“Prince Calan,” a smooth, masculine voice murmurs.

I turn, keenly aware of the blade pricking my throat, and come face-to-face with Prince Draven of the Night Court. Blood stains his right cheek, a brutal slash of red, and his dark hair is wildly disheveled, a few strands shorter than the others as if they’ve been caught by the edge of a blade during the battle. Even still, the smile on his face is positively wicked, almost lurid, hinting at an insanity I never would’ve expected to see in the Night Prince.

We’ve never been friendly, so to speak, but he’s always been more lighthearted than the other princes. Quick to smile or defuse the tension with a cutting barb or retort. The Day Prince, on the other hand…

Everyone knows he’s insane.

It’s shocking to us all that the Night Kingdom is the one heading this war.

Draven’s blade digs into my skin farther, drawing blood. His head tilts to the side as he studies the tiny droplet.

“Interesting,” he purrs. “I always thought a Winter fae would bleed white or blue or maybe even silver. Isn’t it funny that we all bleed the same color, regardless of the court we come from?”

The mask I wore for years rearranges itself on my face, as easy as breathing. It’s second nature to don this persona, to hide all of my emotions behind an impenetrable barrier.

“Gaia’s temple is sacred, Draven,” I say coldly, ignoring his offhand remarks. “Is there a reason why you’re here?”

His silver eyes—almost the exact same shade as liquid mercury—darken. “I think you know exactly why I’m here.” His blade presses even harder against my skin. “Where is my wife?”

Wife?

Anger briefly flares to life inside of me, but I shove the irrational emotion down. It wouldn’t do me any good to express it.

Emotions are nothing but a hindrance that give your enemies something to grab ahold of and use against you. Show your neck, they’ll wrap a noose around it. Give them your back, they’ll stab a knife into it. It’s better to be impassive and cold, especially around those you deem a threat, then allow your walls to crumble.

“Your wife?” I keep both my expression and voice carefully blank. Apathy has a name, and right then, it’s mine. “Congratulations. Now, excuse my bluntness, but does your wife know about this marriage?”

A dozen emotions flit in those fathomless eyes of his, one after another, before finally settling on amusement. He drops the blade from my neck with a chuckle.

“I’ve always liked you, Calan. You’re honest. Just like my little bird.” He resheathes his sword and steps backwards. “But you’re no help to me right now. It appears as if you lost her.” For a brief moment, darkness materializes in his eyes, a starless night shrouding the world in misery. Then he blinks, and it’s gone. His cocksure smile returns. “You can help me find her. I’m certain you suspect where she might have gone.”

“You’re acting as if I know who you’re talking about.” I fold my arms over my chest with a scowl, even as I itch to wipe at the blood cascading down my neck and remove it from my skin. The last thing I want is for it to touch the collar of my shirt. I’m already filthy, and the sight of red on my clothes may be the thing that careens me over the edge.

“Draven.” A tall, blond-haired man appears in the hallway of the temple. He, too, is covered in blood and dirt, indicating that he’s recently been in a struggle. Still, his blue eyes are soft, devoid of the malice I see in Draven. Why does he look so familiar? “There’s no sign of Kassandra.”

Hearing her name leave his lips twists my stomach into knots. Anger burns inside of me.

I don’t want him talking about her, looking at her, or even thinking about her.

I may not want Kassandra as a mate, but I’ll be damned if anyone else gets her.

For the first time since I discovered she has left the temple, I’m grateful. It means she has a chance of escaping Draven and whatever insidious plans he has for her. I don’t know what it is about the infuriating female that has captured the attention of so many fae, but it’s better for everyone if she hides away and never shows her face again.

Because if she does, it’ll be a tug-of-war with her in the middle. I refuse to allow her to be ripped apart by the savage brutality that is the courts.

“I suppose I may have a reason to keep you alive after all,” Draven muses, a strange glimmer materializing in his eyes the longer he stares at me. “Come now. Let us find my wife and bring her home.”