The Fae Princes Quotes

Before, I never knew how far I would go. Now I believe I have the answer. I will go as far as there is to go. I will go way too far.

I was no longer sexually vulnerable to the death-by-sex Fae Prince. Jericho Barrons was my poison now.

Clap her in chains," says Randalin. Never have I so wished there was a way for me to show I was telling the truth. But there isn't. No oath of mine carries any weight. I feel a guard's hand close on my arm. Then Cardan's voice comes. "Do not touch her." A terrible silence follows. I wait for him to pronounce judgement on me. Whatever he commands will be done. His power is absolute. I don't even have the strength to fight back. "Whatever can you mean?" Randalin says. "She's-" "She is my wife," Cardan says, his voice carrying over the crowd. "The rightful High Queen of Elfhame. And most definitely not in exile.

The two princes stared at each other, one gold and one silver, one her twin and one her soul-bonded. There was nothing friendly in the stares, nothing human - two Fae males locked in some unspoken dominance battle.

I am the Queen of Elfhame. Even though I am the queen in exile, I am still the queen. And that means Madoc isn't just trying to take Cardon's throne. He's trying to take mine.

They both turned, giving Rowan Whitethorn horrifyingly innocent smiles. The Fae Prince, to his credit, only winced after they looked away again. Elide

It is at that unfortunate moment that one of the knights stops me. "You. Mortal girl in the mask," he says. "You smell like blood." I turn. Frustrated and desperate as I am, I blurt out the first thing that comes to me. "Well, I am mortal. And a girl, sir. We bleed every month, just like moon swells.

I could have mixed a thousand colors together, but I would never have been able to paint his eyes as I saw them then, in all their evanescent beauty. - Breena Malloy about Kian from Bitter Frost by Kailin Gow.

His voice worked on me like an aphrodisiac. I was wet and ready. I had been since he began speaking. For two months, I'd been trapped in a Fae-induced sexual frenzy, having constant, incredible sex with him, while listening to his voice, smelling his scent. Like one of Pavlov's dogs, I'd been conditioned by repeated stimuli to have a guaranteed response. My body anticipated, greedily expected pleasure in his presence. I inhaled, caught myself straining for the scent of him, forced it back out, and closed my eyes, as if maybe I could hide behind my own lids from an ironic truth : V'lane and Barrons had swapped roles. I was no longer sexually vulnerable to the death-by-sex Fae Prince. Jericho Barrons was my poison now.

No wonder Barrons was so determined to keep me alive, and I had a Fae prince playing lapdog, and the Lord Master hadn't yet launched a full scale attack against me. They all needed me alive. I was Tigger. I was the only one.

Holy cow,” Chloe said faintly. “No kidding,” Gwen breathed. The sexy Fae prince flashed them a smile that was pure devilish charm, sexy and playful and mischievous, briefly catching the tip of his tongue between white teeth, before his lip curved, dark eyes sparkling gold. Gabby groaned. She choked on it hastily, camouflaging it with a dry little cough. Her own private stash of eye candy had just been made available for public consumption and she didn’t like it one bit. Apparently she wasn’t the only one. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Dageus?” Drustan said irritably. “Och, aye,” Dageus said darkly. “You liked him better invisible too?” “Och, aye.” “Should I curse him again?” “Och, aye.” Adam threw back his head and laughed, eyes sparkling with gold fire. “Bloody hell, it’s good to be back,” he purred.

I can feel your love like a million golden stars in the endless abyss that is me.

Adam is Dark Fae. His brands are fully developed now. He's your familiar, so my guess is that you are as well, which means I'm your Prince fucking Charming.” His eyes sparkled mischievously.

Every time, I was “unreasonable” for reading between the lines. But that’s where the truth always lies, isn’t it? The unsaid between.

Hindsight is a zero-sum game where time is the winner and you’re the loser. Always.

The whole place looks straight out of a fairy tale, the kind where love is a simple thing, never the cause of pain.

Prince Rowan Whitethorn, of Doranelle. Former commander to Queen Maeve, and a member of her royal household.” Yrene could have sworn the blood drained wholly from Arghun’s face. “Aelin Galathynius is to wed Rowan Whitethorn?” From the way the prince said the name … he’d indeed heard of this Rowan. Chaol had mentioned Rowan more than once in passing—Rowan, who had managed to heal much of the damage in his spine. A Fae Prince. And Aelin’s beloved. Chaol shrugged. “They are carranam, and he swore the blood oath to her.

Ruhn Danaan, Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae. Son of the Autumn King and the current possessor of the Starsword, fabled dark blade of the ancient Starborn Fae. Proof of the prince’s Chosen One status among the Fae—whatever the Hel that meant.

Don’t cry, little girl,” he says. “It was a long time ago.”  “Yes, but time means nothing to heartbreak.

She’s the brightest shining light in the dark. The second star on the right.

A strange, ever-changing female scent hit him, and Aedion found Lysandra leaning against the hallway door. Tears gleamed in her eyes even as she smiled. She gazed at the closed bedroom door, as if she could still see the prince and queen inside. "That," she said, more to herself than to him. "That is what I am going to find one day." "A gorgeous Fae warrior?" Aedion said, shifting a bit. Lysandra chuckled, wiping away her tears, and gave him a knowing look before walking away.

He misinterpreted it. "It is a gift," he said stiffly. Wounded, proud prince. I touched his face. He'd given me my mom and dad, my whole town, the entire state of Georgia back. "I was shaking my head at something I was thinking, not your words. Yes, I'd like to have your name, V'lane." He gave me that brilliant smile again, then his mouth was on mine. This time, when he kissed me, the unpronounceable Fae name slid sweeter than tupelo honey across my tongue and pooled there, warm and delicious, filling my mouth with a feast of taste and sensation beyond description before melting into the meat of it. Unlike the other times he's implanted his name in my tongue, it felt natural, unobtrusive. Also unlike those times, I wasn't battered by an erotic attack, forced into orgasm by his touch. It was an extraordinary kiss, but it invited without invading, gave without taking. He drew back. "We are learning from each other," he said. "I begin to understand Adam." I blinked. "The first man ? You know about Adam and Eve ?" V'lane didn't seem the kind to study human creation myths. "No. One of my race that chose to become human," he clarified. "Ah, Barrons comes growling." He gave the startling equivalent of a human snicker and was gone. I reached instinctively for my spear. It was back in the holster. I frowned. I'd forgotten to check. Had it ever been gone ? I turned. "Growling" was a mild word for it. Barrons stood in the doorway, and if looks could kill, I'd have been flayed alive in the street.

Aedion went rigid. "And what about our unquestioning loyalty? What have you done to earn that? What have you done to save our people since you've returned? Were you ever going to tell me about the blood oath, or was that just another of your many lies?" Aelin snarled with an animalistic intensity that reminded him she, too, had Fae blood in her veins. "Go have your temper tantrum somewhere else. Don't come back until you can act like a human being. Or half of one, at least." Aedion swore at her, a filthy, foul curse that he immediately regretted. Rowan lunged for him, knocking back his chair hard enough to flip it over, but Aelin threw out her hand. The prince stood down. That easily, she leashed the mighty, immortal warrior.

Lysandra made him change out of his dirty travel clothes, barged into Aelin and Rowan’s room wearing no more than her own bedsheet, and took whatever she wanted from the Fae Prince’s armoire. Aelin’s barked Get out! was likely heard from across the bay, and Lysandra was smirking with feline wickedness as she returned, chucking the green jacket and pants at him.

Love is the closest thing we have to meaning in this world. The love of a mother for her children, the love between friends, the love of a husband and wife, love for who we are and all those who strove before us to hand us the world we have now—love is why we live, why we fight, why we carry on when things get tough…it is not always easy. But it is our reprieve from true hardship, not the hardship itself.

I have lived a long time and I’ve seen a great many things, and I can assure you, there is no point in the future where problems do not exist. Where your doubts are no more. Your hardships gone. Where things are easy.

I look around the room at the four men before me, on their knees. I love them, each of them, in my own way and they love me in turn. My vicious men. All of them, mine.

Let’s dry our eyes and go murder our mother.

And now she was just Gabby, currently staying in a dreamy, magnificent castle in Scotland with a Fae prince who did all kinds of non-nasty, non-inhuman things like tearing up lists of names, and returning tadpoles to lakes, and saving people's lives. Not to mention kissing with all the otherwordly splendor of a horny angel.

The sexy Fae prince flashed them asmile that was pure devilish charm, sexy and playful and mischievous, briefly catching the tip of his tongue between white teeth, before his lips curved, dark eyes sparking gold. Gabby groaned. She choked on it hastily, camouflaging it with a dry little cough. Her own private stash of eye candy had just been made available for public consumption and she didn't like it one bit. Apparently she wasn't the only one. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking. Dageus?" Drustan said irritably. "Och, aye," Dageus said darkly. "You liked him better invisible too?" "Och, aye." "Should I curse him again?" "Och, aye." Adam threw back his head and laughed, eyes sparkling with gold fire. "Bloody hell, it's good to be back," he purred.

Pain is pain. You don’t have to compare it to someone else’s to justify that what you went through was hard.

The Prince of Fae may have been dreaming of her, but how could she explain that when he appeared in her dreams they were her worst nightmares?

Time means nothing to heartbreak.

I think you care very little,” she goes on, “because you think that keeps you safe. If you care for very little, you have very little to lose.

Apparently us Darlings have a thing for morally grey assholes with rock-hard abs and cunning good looks.

I’m no artist, but I’m an expert at violence and I will paint a fucking masterpiece with your blood.

you really not know the reason why I came? I came back for you. I’ll always come back for you.” He pressed his forehead to hers. His nearness tickled her senses, and she couldn’t help but hold him even tighter. Jared gently tipped Mina’s chin up, and he leaned down to press his lips to hers in a soft kiss that quickly turned into desire. So many pent-up emotions and unsaid words spilled out between them in a kiss to top all kisses. Never before had she lost all sense of time and place as her lips sought after those of her protector, her friend and her Fae prince. All thoughts of Brody disappeared as her world encompassed Jared and Jared only. He pulled away, and he was visibly shaking from the intensity of their kiss. “Mina, I want you to know that I’ve felt alone for a very long time. I was incomplete, and nothing could fill that void. Until I met you. I’ve known for a long time, but I wasn’t sure how you felt about me. At times I thought you hated me, but I wanted to tell you that I, uh, Mina, I lo—aaaarrgh!

Ember, I’m tired of pretending. I never want to spend a moment faking anything with you ever again, not even for the sake of public opinion. I want it to be real. I want to show everyone this is real

I've learned that the flesh that clothes us means very little." Prince Ashton

I have never been jealous of a flower before…but here I am.

I find I can’t stand most humans,” I mumble.

All I wanted was to be alone and grieve, and everyone else just wanted me back to normal.

The love of one’s fate. Sometimes I think about those words. It takes just one decision. It may seem small at the time or inconsequential. But that one small decision can change the course of everything.

I want you to kiss me all over until there is not a part of my body that you don’t know. I want you to explore me with your tongue and fingers. I want you to make me yours as a man should make his wife. I want you to go slow until I am breathless and begging, and then I want you to go hard. I want to shatter together and fall like the silvery arcs of shooting stars as we descend from heaven of our making.

They can see us, but they can’t hear us in here,” Freida said as she sat back down and picked up her yarn. “You’ve been black marked, Kate Kole,” she added. “The fae Prince has come to kill you. And he’ll succeed.

But apart from that single expensive item, she stayed away from the high-dollar racks. Luxury was all well and good for a Fae prince, but what would she do with a pair of six-hundred-dollar Gucci boots? She'd be afraid to walk in them. Probably trip and break an ankle or something, and wasn't there some old fairy tale about stolen shoes that punished the thief? She knew better than most people that fairy tales had a twisted way of coming true. She slipped into jeans and laced up tennis shoes. A sturdy pair of hiking boots went into the satchel. She was done before he was. Figured. And when he returned, he was wearing dark, tattooed Armani jeans, with a sheer white silk tee and six-hundred dollar Gucci boots. Which also figured.

Why is it that it is so much easier for me to process being treated like a thing than a person? How is it that the latter hurts more?” I blurt. Giles blinks several times over. His brows arch upward, knitting together in the middle. I can’t stand his pity already. “Because now you know this is how you should have been treated all along. Because you know that if one person sees you, respects you as they should, then there’s no excuse for anyone else not to. The fault does not lie—has never lain—with you, but rather the shortcomings of those you have been surrounded by. You were always worthy.

Behind her, had she looked, she would have seen Glennis. And Bronwen. Petrah Blueblood. Aedion Ashryver and Lysandra and Ren Allsbrook. Prince Galan and Captain Rolfe and Ansel of Briarcliff, Ilias and the Fae royals beside them. Had she looked, she would have seen the small white flowers they bore. Would have wondered how and where they had gotten them in the dead heart of winter. Had she looked, she would have seen the people gathered behind them, so many they streamed all the way to the city gates. Would have seen the humans standing side by side with the Crochans and Ironteeth. All come to honor the Thirteen.

I gave in to the weight around me. I’d become the Lady of the Lake without Excalibur, the damsel in distress without the prince to save her, Dorothy without her slippers or Alice without her “drink me” potion. Fantastic dreams weaved into amazing tales of triumph over obstacles. I was not triumphant over anything. I was a coward.

During the week, she’d focused on school. On the weekends, she’d lost herself in a Netflix binge; any reality was better than hers.

You are amazing, and none of us deserve you," Bayn said, touching her cheek once before letting her go.

The revel will go on, I realize. Everything will go on. But I am not sure that I can.

There is no place for her here.

But what if you forget yourself? Who you were and who you wanted to be?

I would go to the ends of the earth for you.” “I would traverse worlds for you.

Maybe that's part of the problem. Maybe I'm so accustomed to being uncomfortable that I have no idea what to do with myself now that the discomfort is gone.

I love you in a way that makes me want to sacrifice for you. That makes me want to move the mountains, or oceans, or stars, to merely see you smile.

Strength is sometimes best expressed in tears, I think. For the alternative is madness

there is always, always happiness on the other side of heartbreak.

But people, Georgie. PEOPLE.

You can give me whatever funny courtly names you so desire, but my favorite shall always and ever be husband.

I clenched my teeth. “One last question, my prince. Why must we share a bed?” “Because there’s only one.

I have seen your soul, and I have fallen in love with it. So

It's always a mistake, little one, to allow your sense of self to be determined externally. What is Fae? What is Fae enough?

It's difficult to remain angry with you when you are a harsher judge of yourself than even I could be.

Our song, lurked in crypts of kings gone by.” I shift my fingers on the neck, transitioning back to the verse, now playing each note in harmony as I find the melody once more.

We made a deal,” I finally whisper.

I’m enveloped once more.

Do you love her? I do.

Davien says little; he leads the pack and broods quite dramatically.

Heat flooded my core as the prince ravaged my mouth. He tasted of sin and snow, spice and fire, and I’d never tasted anything so sweet, so addictive.

Ruhn Danaan, Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae,

Just don’t give up on him so quickly, okay? There’s someone in there worth saving.

Swallow your food before you choke on it.” I do and then, “So it’s okay to choke on Lost Boy cock, but not chicken and biscuits?

Darling, did you ever in your wildest dreams imagine you’d get fucked by four men at once?” Her answer is breathy but excited. “It was on my bucket list.

And thinking about his mouth being wicked makes my insides clench up with excitement. “She’s already thinking about getting fucked,” Vane says. “Hey! Quit reading my mind.

I’m glad it was you,” I whispered. He nodded. “If you want, it can always be.

We were supposed to be her knights, princes of the fae. Instead, we are erased.

I don’t care what he says. He definitely has daddy energy.

He extends his arms. “The real me.” I raise a brow. “I thought the real you preferred to wear only trousers and a shirt.” “The real me prefers to be stark naked,” he says with a wink

You are the cove of which our storm-struck ships moor. The beacon of light in the darkest night leading us home. A candle whose flame flickers against the coldest wind. You've given them hope.

What are you thinking about?" Ambrose did not hesitate. "You." "What about me?" "The things I've learned about you," he said openly. "Such as?" "For one, you make a terrible statue---" "I shall mourn that till the end of my days.

Tried to convince himself, and failed. But—he had to give her space. He wouldn’t be an overbearing, territorial Fae bastard, as she liked to call them. “And if I pass your assessment,” Aedion said at last, “will we go directly to Terrasen, or are we waiting here for Prince Rowan?” “Prince Rowan,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You keep needling me for details about Prince Rowan—” “You befriended one of the greatest warriors in history—perhaps the greatest warrior alive. Your father, and his men, all told me stories about Prince Rowan.” “What?” Oh, he’d been waiting to drop this particular gem of information. “Warriors in the North still talk about him.” “Rowan’s never been to this continent.” She said it with such casualness—Rowan. She really had no clue who she now considered a member of her court, who she’d freed from his oath to Maeve. Who she frequently referred to as a pain in her ass. Rowan was the most powerful full-blooded Fae male alive. And his scent was all over her. Yet she had no gods-damned idea. “Rowan Whitethorn is a legend. And so is his—what do you call them?” “Cadre,” she said glumly. “The six of them …” Aedion loosed a breath. “We used to tell stories about them around fires. Their battles and exploits and adventures.” She sighed through her nose. “Please, please don’t ever tell him that. I’ll never hear the end of it, and he’ll use it in every argument we have.

How did I just walk up to your father’s palace and find you?” he breathes between kisses. “How did I marry a stranger—only to discover I’d wed an angel? I’m half afraid the moment I turn around, you’ll have sprouted wings and flown out of my reach.

My mouth dropped open. Oh my God, it was like having a conversation with a ruder Tink. Who, by the way, was practically shimmying with excitement as he leaned in, whispering into my ear. “I like this guy. I really like him. Can I keep him?” The Summer Prince heard him, and interest sparked in his pale blue eyes. “I’ve never been kept by a brownie before, but … I’ve heard things. Interesting things.” I so needed an adult right now, but the adults were all staring at the ceiling, pretending like a live version of Fae Tinder wasn’t going down right in front of us. Tink straightened. “Do tell.” Fabian stepped toward us. “Is it true that a brownie’s co—” “Okay,” Ren stepped in, apparently to Tanner’s relief by the look on his face. “Let’s get back on topic. You were talking about how Ivy isn’t a special snowflake.

Every young woman dreams of marrying a royal. A king, a prince, it doesn’t matter, so long as he’s richer than sin and handsome enough to fake a smile at. What else could a girl ask for? Well, a working brain, for starters. And I do suggest all young women have one of those.

Magic is one of the greatest things we will ever know and never be able to explain. To know magic is to touch the old gods that brought this earth from primordial chaos. It is to embrace the glimpse of greatness that we all possess within us - to boldly reach for what could be and not what is, both in ourselves and the world around us.

Realizing he’d forgotten to tell Rowan about the letter he’d received from the Bane, Aedion Ashryver walked into Aelin’s suite of rooms in time to see that Aelin was awake—finally awake, and lifting her face to Rowan’s. They were sitting on the bed, Aelin in Rowan’s lap, the Fae warrior’s arms locked around her as he looked at her the way she deserved to be looked at. And when they kissed, deeply, without hesitation— Rowan didn’t so much as glance Aedion’s way before a wind snapped through the suite, slamming the bedroom door in Aedion’s face. Point taken. A strange, ever-changing female scent hit him, and Aedion found Lysandra leaning against the hallway door. Tears gleamed in her eyes even as she smiled. She gazed at the closed bedroom door, as if she could still see the prince and queen inside. “That,” she said, more to herself than to him. “That is what I am going to find one day.” “A gorgeous Fae warrior?” Aedion said, shifting a bit. Lysandra chuckled, wiping away her tears, and gave him a knowing look before walking away.

What are you doing here?” Prince Sulien asks, ignoring my inquiry, an edge to his words. His irritated tone helps to snap me from my dirty thoughts. A little. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. Maybe I was just drawn to your room by some kind of magical force,” I tell him sarcastically. Prince Zane smiles seductively. “My room’s across the hall… If you ever feel a magical force and want to head there, you’re welcome.

But south of the forest, well, that is an entirely different story.” Well that is an entirely different story. What a dedicated actor he is, his voice so crisp and dramatic. Next, he’ll tell me winter is coming and we need to battle the gray walkers, or the red riders, or whatever the blazes they’re called. I’m sick of this ridiculous farce. “So, tell me, Jon Snow, who lives south of the forest, then? Is it Goldilocks and the three bears?

Wished for the days when she might have had the time to bed her gods-damned lover and not choose to catch a few hours of sleep instead. She’d meant to. Last night, they’d returned to the inn, and she’d bathed faster than she’d ever washed before. She’d even emerged from the bathing room naked … and found her Fae Prince asleep atop the glowingly white bed, still clothed, looking for all the world like he’d intended to close his eyes while she washed.

A young man with goat feet and horns, wearing a shirt of golden scale mail and holding a thing-bladed rapier, steps in the pool of light near a building. His face is expressionless, like someone in a dream. I note the curls of his tawny blond hair tucked behind his pointed ears, the garnet-coloured cloak tossed over wide shoulders, the scar along one side of his throat, a circlet at his brow. He moves as though he expects the world to bend to his will. ... His amber eyes are bright, like those of a fox, but there is nothing warm in them.

He pressed his forehead to hers. His nearness tickled her senses, and she couldn’t help but hold him even tighter. Jared gently tipped Mina’s chin up, and he leaned down to press his lips to hers in a soft kiss that quickly turned into desire. So many pent-up emotions and unsaid words spilled out between them in a kiss to top all kisses. Never before had she lost all sense of time and place as her lips sought after those of her protector, her friend and her Fae prince. All thoughts of Brody disappeared as her world encompassed Jared and Jared only.

Indeed, Ruhn said, “Wanna … hear a … joke?” The prince didn’t wait for a reply before he continued, “Two angels … and a Fae Prince … walk into … a dungeon …” Ruhn didn’t finish, and didn’t need to. A broken, rasping laugh came out of Hunt. Then Baxian. Then Ruhn. Though every heave shrieked through his arms, his back, his broken body, Hunt couldn’t stop laughing. The sound bordered on hysteria. Soon tears were leaking down his cheeks, and he knew from the scent that the others were laughing and crying as well, like it was the funniest fucking thing in the world. The door to the chamber banged open,

The thing about light is that I am forever drenched in it. I am not sure if I call to it or if it calls to me, but we find each other even when the moon is absent. Even when the stars are shrouded by clouds. I have not seen the sun in a decade, but I am still surrounded by a brightness that does not belong to my own soul, a brightness that does not seem to exist on a physical level. That is far darker, covered in shadows and cobwebs and crawling with spiders. I don’t blame myself for that. I blame the caves. I blame the guards who brought me here, the royal family who sentenced me to a life of midnight, and I blame the beetles that crawl over my body as if I am already dead.

It was hard to avoid doing so when Rowan’s presence somehow sucked out all the air in the warehouse. Then there was the matter of the delicately pointed ears peeking out from the short silver hair. Fae—he’d never seen one other than Aelin in those brief, petrifying moments. And Rowan … Conveniently, in all her storytelling, Aelin had forgotten to mention that the prince was so handsome. A handsome Fae Prince, whom she’d spent months living and training with—while Chaol’s own life fell apart, while people died because of her actions— Rowan was watching Chaol as if he might be dinner. Depending on his Fae form, that might not be too far wrong. Every instinct was screaming at him to run, despite the fact that Rowan had been nothing but polite. Distant and intense, but polite. Still, Chaol didn’t need to see the prince in action to know that he would be dead before he could even draw his sword. “You know, he won’t bite,” Aelin crooned.

So your sword … it’s been in your world for fifteen thousand years?” “Brought by my ancestor.” She debated the next bit, then added, “Queen Theia. Or Prince Pelias, depending on what propaganda’s being spun.” Amren stiffened slightly. Rhysand slid his eyes to her, clocking the movement. Bryce dared to push, “You … know of them?” Amren surveyed Bryce from her blood-splattered neon-pink shoes to her high ponytail. The blood smeared on Bryce’s face, now stiff and sticky. “No one has spoken those names here in a very, very long time.” In fifteen thousand years, Bryce was willing to bet. “But you have heard of them?” Bryce’s heart thundered. “They once … dwelled here,” Amren said carefully. It was the last scrap of confirmation Bryce needed about what this planet was. Something settled deep in her, a loose thread at last pulling taut. “So this is it, then. This is where we—the Midgard Fae—originated. My ancestors left this world and went to Midgard … and we forgot where we came from.” Silence again. Azriel spoke in their own language, and Rhysand translated. Perhaps Rhysand had been translating for Azriel mind-to-mind these last few minutes. “He says we have no such stories about our people migrating to another world.

Killing a human can’t be that hard!” Cress shouted back. “I just need to speak her real name and command her to die!” His boots thundered down the hall until he reached the crystal spiral staircase. He travelled down three levels into the dark pits of the Silver Castle where the cold morgue prepared faeborn bodies for candlelight ceremonies. When Cress burst into the room, he found it empty of servants. But he saw Whyp. He saw the body of the golden-eyed fairy. His brother assassin. Mor jogged in behind him. “Cress—” “Steal his memories for me,” Cress said. “Just this once, Mor. Do this for me.” “You know I can’t do that.” Moisture filled the Prince’s turquoise eyes when he looked at his friend. “Have you ever done it before?” he asked, and Mor looked like he’d turned to faestone. “Yes. Once,” he said. Cress nodded and marched over to Whyp. “Good,” he said. “Do it, Mor. Please. I’ll never tell a soul that you used your Shadow Fairy gift. I want to see Whyp’s last moments. I want to feel what he felt as his faeborn heart stopped.” “You can’t do anything about it, Cress,” Mor said quietly. “Promise me.” Cress laid his hands along Whyp’s temples. “I can’t even take a breath anymore without the whole North High Court watching me. How could I do something about this?

They found Tharion on the couch with Ithan, the tv blasting the latest sports stats. Tharion munched on a piece of pizza, long legs sprawled out in front of him, bare feet on the coffee table. Ruhn might have stepped inside to grab a piece of that pizza had Bryce not gone still. A Fae sort of stillness, sizing up a threat. His instinct went to high alert, bellowing at him to defend, to attack, to slaughter any threat to his family. Ruhn suppressed it, held back by the shadows begging to be unleashed, to hide Bryce from sight. Ithan called over to them, “Pizza’s on the counter if you want some.” Bryce remained silent as fear washed over her scent. Ruhn’s fingers grazed the cool metal of the gun strapped to his thigh. “Your cat’s a sweetheart, by the way,” Ithan went on, not taking his focus from the TV as he stroked the white cat curled on his lap. Bryce slowly shut the door behind her. “He scared the shit out of me when he leapt onto the counter a few minutes ago, the bastard.” The wolf ran his fingers through the luxurious coat, earning a deep purr in response. The cat had stunning blue eyes. They seemed keenly aware as they fixed on Bryce. Ruhn’s shadows gathered at his shoulders, snakes waiting to strike. He subtly drew his gun. Behind her, a familiar ripple of ether-laced power kissed over her skin. A small reassurance as Bryce croaked, “That’s not a cat.” Hunt arrived at the apartment just in time to hear Bryce’s words through the shut front door. He was inside in a moment, lightning gathered at his fingers. “Oh, calm yourself,” the Prince of the Chasm said, leaping into the coffee table.

Sitting in a bar for hours on end wouldn’t help matters, but Tristan Archer figured he might as well try it out. It may take him far longer to get drunk than it would if he were human, yet he figured he’d give it a go. After the hellish few months he’d had, he would try anything at this point. He ran a hand through his short, auburn hair that tended to look brown in the bar’s lighting and sighed. He shouldn’t have accepted his friend Levi’s invitation to dinner and drinks at Dante’s Circle in the human realm. He should have rejected the offer and gone back to the thousand other things he had to do within the fae realm and inside the Conclave. Tristan wasn’t just any fae. He was a nine-hundred-year-old fae prince with responsibilities that lay heavily on his shoulders. He was also a Conclave member, where he helped govern every paranormal realm in existence with another fae member and two others from each race. That was how he’d become friends with Levi, a wizard and prince in his own right. So here he was, in Dante’s Circle, a bar owned and named after a royal blue dragon; the meeting place of seven women and their mates with a history he couldn’t immediately comprehend. Of course, it was because one of those women that he’d rather be in the fae realm instead of the dark bar with oak paneling and photos on the walls that spoke of generations of memories and connections. He’d been here a few times in the past, always on the outside of the circle of lightning-struck woman and their mates, but never fully excluded. They’d welcomed Tristan into their fold, even if they didn’t understand why it hurt him so to be that close to what he couldn’t have. Or maybe they understood all too well. After all, one of their own was the reason for his confusion, his torture. The object of his desire. “If you keep glowering at her over in the corner, you’ll end up scaring her more than she already is,” Seth said from his side. Tristan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, immediately regretting the action as soon as he did. The man next to him smelled of the sea. And hope. His heart ached and his dick filled. Seth Oceanus was a merman, a friend, and his mate. His true half. Or at least one of them. Not that he or Seth could do anything about it when the other part of their triad didn’t feel the same way.