My victory is short-lived. Frederick moves fast, spinning around with the momentum of his last swing, coming back to face me with the end of his staff pressed right against my chest. He pulls back just before the force of his strike hit me. He pushes against my sternum with enough pressure to let me know I’m in a compromised position. Like I didn’t already know that.
“Do you yield?”
I roll my eyes. Of course, I yield. “Yes.”
“Wrong.” Frederick’s arms blur. He draws the staff back and swiftly swipes my legs out from under me. My tailbone hits the ground painfully.
I yelp. My back plops onto the ground, and I stare with burning eyes up at the deplorable guard as he leans over me. “What the hell is your problem? I yielded!”
“You cannot yield during the contest.” Frederick digs one end of his staff into the grass, placing his hands on the other end near his chin. He leans forward and rests his chin on his hands as he stares down at me, looking like a disappointed coach. Not that I would really know what that looks like. My memories don’t include any organized sports. Maybe a disappointed P.E. teacher would be more accurate in my case.
“I’m not in the freaking contest right now!” At least I still have air in my lungs to give him an earful. The last two times, I’d been too out of breath to accurately convey my disdain for the pushy guard and his awful training. “You’re being an ass!”
“I prefer your earlier description of hardass.” Frederick has the audacity to smirk.
I growl, irritated I forgot Fae have amazing hearing. When there’s a lot of surrounding noise, it’s not as easy for Fae to eavesdrop on every little word. But out here in the forest, Frederick has no trouble hearing everything I say.
I get to my feet, angrily brushing dirt and grass off my pants. “You don’t know me, but this isn’t the right motivation technique for me.” All I want to do is stomp back to the barracks and lick my wounds underneath the privacy of my bunk’s sole blanket, but I suspect the guard would simply tear off the cover and yank me back to the field.
“How do you know that?” he asks, tilting his head to the side, staring at me with calculating eyes. “You don’t even know who you are.”
“I know who I am.”
“Your name. Your age. Maybe some details here or there.” Frederick shakes his head. “But if a pixie wiped your mind, you don’t truly have a grasp of who you are.”
My fists clench. “That’s not true.”
It can’t be true. I have to believe I am still the person I was before most of my personal memories were erased. The loss feels too great otherwise.
“Do you know who I think you are?”
He’s baiting me. I refuse to respond.
Frederick’s expression floods with irritation. “I think you’re weak. I believe you are someone who got by in life on her looks alone.” He gestures to me, as if not being ugly is a crime.
I’d be less shocked if he slapped me across the face.
“You’re wrong.”
“How do you know?”
I open my mouth, but my mind can’t conjure up any evidence to contradict his cruel words.
He nods like my silence affirms his statement. “The prince wants you to win. That is why I’m pushing you.”
I almost laugh. “No, he doesn’t.”
“He does.”
I remember, specifically, when Camden told me I can survive the contest without winning. I say as much to the guard, then add, “Why would he do that if he wanted me to win?”
Frederick shrugs, but he doesn’t look convinced. “Perhaps the prince has changed his mind.”
“Has Camden said that?”
“No, he never would. But I’ve known him his whole life. I can tell.”
That seems like flimsy evidence to me. But regardless if it’s true, that doesn’t change the fact I plan to not be the contestant who grabs the queen’s diadem at the end.
“I don’t want to win,” I say firmly.
Frederick finally lifts his chin from the top of the staff to stand straight. “It doesn’t matter. The prince wills it, so I am here to help you. It does not matter that there are other contestants who are tough, both mentally and physically. They’d might make better partners, but for some reason the prince has selected you.”
Again, I don’t understand why he’s being such an ass. I just told him I don’t want to win. He doesn’t need to insult me.
My blood is boiling. I refuse to subject myself to anymore of this. Let him try to force me to train. I won’t do it.
Without saying another word, I walk past Frederick, toward the lush trees.
“Where are you going?”
I don’t answer. Not because I’m trying to ignore him. Though, that’s not a bad idea.
I don’t answer because I’m afraid I’ll end up saying something to truly offend the Fae guard. I’ve already called him an ass. I can’t rely on him to not react the next time I insult him, and my temper is close to getting the best of me.
Just this morning, I saw one of the stable boys hit with a riding crop when he forgot to address Lord Tarkin with a title. My body gives an involuntary shudder just thinking about the formidable soldier. He’s the one I thought looked particularly scary my first day in the training yard.
Lord Tarkin never interacts with the contestants, thank god, but his hawkish eyes are constantly assessing us, weighing our worth. I’ve had the misfortune of catching him look my way several times since the banquet.
I keep walking, my head straight, with eyes focused on the path before me. The guard continues to call my name, and I continue to remain silent.
Wind kicks up around me and a sturdy torso appears in front of me. I stumble back, eyes wide. Frederick crosses his arms and grins. “Where are you going?”
My mouth gapes like a fish out of water. I snap it closed, pinching my lips together as I process what just happened. “How did you move so fast?”
He steps closer. His large arms almost brush my chest, but I keep my feet planted. I won’t step back. I’m tired of him pushing me around. Heat, not the comforting kind, begins to build in my stomach.
Continuing to grin in a belittling way, he answers, “I’m Fae.”
That’s all he needs to say. I still don’t understand the depth of power the other-worldly beings possess, but I don’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out. As soon as the contest is over, I’m out.
I step to my right. Frederick mirrors the move, still grinning. “Where are you going?”
My jaw clenches. Through gritted teeth, I reply, “To the barracks.”
“We aren’t finished training.”
“Yes, we are.” I try multiple times to walk past, but the frustrating Fae refuses to let up. He steps in my path each time, blocking the way with his massive body. I want to scream.
“What do you want from me?” I throw my hands in the air, giving in to my desire to yell.
He leans down, and the smile drops from his lips. “I want you to stop holding back. I want you to fight to survive. Stop. Being. Weak.”
That does it.
My temper flares, and the heat in my stomach rises to my chest.
I’m tired, scared, and overall an emotional and physical wreck. I don’t know what type of personalities Frederick usually trains, but I’ve had it with his bullying ways.
I’m done, and I’m leaving. And I won’t let this arrogant ass stop me.
With the nastiest glare I can muster, I put my hands on Frederick’s chest. “I’m. Not. Weak!” My shove is fueled by anger, but I’m still surprised when it sends him stumbling back several feet.
I don’t waste a second. I resume stomping off into the trees.
Another form appears in front of me, and I am one blink away from shoving the guard back, even harder this time, when strong fingers wrap around my wrists, holding them in place.
Fury blurs my vision. Several seconds pass before I recognize the Fae in front of me is not Frederick
.
Prince Camden gazes down at me, and his expression is a mix of shock and awe.
Some of the tension seeps out of me, replaced with confusion. “What?” I snap. Remnants of my anger still linger my tone.
Camden looks at me strangely. “How did you do that?”
“Do what?”
His eyes roam my face, searching for something. I don’t know if he finds it, but his eyebrows lift from surprise. “Frederick, come here.”
I hear the guard’s footsteps, but I don’t look to see his approach. I’m still mad at him.
Frederick positions himself beside the prince. I keep my gaze on Camden.
He notices. “Look at his chest, Sera.”
“What?” My forehead scrunches. “Why?”
“Just do it… please,” he adds when I don’t immediately move my attention to my torturer. It’s a good thing he added the polite word. Otherwise, my stubbornness might have won out.
Scowling, I heed the prince’s request. My gaze travels over to Frederick. His arms are no longer crossed over his chest, leaving his torso open to view.
I gasp.
Two holes have burned through his tunic. Singe marks outline the openings, but it’s his skin which makes my blood run cold.
Burned into the male’s muscular torso are two handprints. I can see each fingers’ individual imprint…
And their size is a perfect match for mine.
17
My eyes are glued to the handprints singed into the Fae guard’s chest. I must be hallucinating. No way did I burn him with my bare hands.
But based on the two Fae’s expressions, that’s exactly what they think I did.
I swallow the lump in my throat, and struggle to get the word past my lips, “What… what happened to your shirt?” I lift my eyes to Frederick’s, surprised when I don’t see any evidence of his earlier irritation. Had it been an act?
“You burned through it,” he states simply.
I shake my head. “No. That’s not possible.”
“It shouldn’t be,” the guard says, “for a human.”
My entire body floods with surprise. The way Frederick said the words… he can’t really think I’m something other than human. Surprise morphs into fear as I begin to understand the implications of what he’s saying.
“Enough.” Camden steps forward, grabs my hand, and drags me into the forest. “You will not speak a word of what happened,” he calls over his shoulder. “Leave the matter to me.”
I glance back and see Frederick bow. “Of course, Your Highness. You have my word.”
Satisfied with the guard’s response, Camden forgets all about him as he continues to lead me away from the pond, but he walks in the direction opposite of the castle.
I tug back, but it’s no use. Camden’s much stronger than I am.
I have the good sense to be afraid.
“Wh-where are we going?”
“Somewhere we can talk.” He watches me out of the corner of his eye. He’s confused. He doesn’t know what to make of me.
I don’t know what to make of me, either.
We walk until we reach a stream. The water bubbles over the rocks, adding noise to the otherwise quiet surroundings.
Camden releases my arm and gives me a hard, penetrating look. “What just happened?”
“I-I don’t know,” I nervously tuck loose hair behind my ears. My tight ponytail had sagged while I trained with Frederick. “There’s no way I did… that.” I can’t even vocalize what occurred. Burning a guy’s chest with my bare hands? Sign me up for the looney bin now.
His gaze is unrelenting. Bright green eyes narrow as they move over my body. My skin breaks into bumps, and the hairs on my arms stand on end.
Camden continues to observe me, looking for some unnamable clue as to what is responsible for the incredulous event back at the pond.
“I knew there was something different about you, but I never would have guessed it to be this.”
Fear threatens to overwhelm my senses. I try to keep it at bay. “What do you mean?”
Camden’s eyes return to my face. He’s looks just as confused as I am. “You aren’t human.”
“Of course I’m human,” I counter indignantly. “What else would I be?”
The prince doesn’t answer. His lips pull down. “You don’t know what you are,” he reminds me. “You’ve lost your memory.” It’s close to what Frederick had said, and I find my anger returning.
“I would remember if I wasn’t human,” I bite back, not bothering to try to soften my words.
“Would you?”
“Yes!” Images of a childhood play in my mind. I don’t know who raised me. Their faces are nothing but blurs, but I remember an ordinary upbringing. I’m human. I’m normal. That fact feels really important to me. I need him to believe it.
I need to believe it.
Camden’s gaze lingers for another second, and I see compassion shining in his eyes. “Would it really be so terrible to be something more than human?”
There’s an underlying question there, but I can’t imagine what it might be.
“My life is crazy enough right now,” I tell him weakly. “I’d rather not make it worse.”
Camden presses his lips together, then looks away with a blank expression. “Alright. Fine. Let’s say your human.”
I sigh, and my shoulders slump with relief. “Thank you.”
“But you must take care and ensure nothing like that ever happens again.”
I nod enthusiastically. “Of course. You’ve got it.” I might know what the heck just happened, but I’ll make sure to never ever even thing about burning someone. I won’t even think about fire. Or cooking on a stove top. Or anything regarding heat of any kind.
Camden looks back, and there’s a slight smile pulling at his lips. “Good.”
It’s my turn to look away. A thought comes to mind and I blurt, “Were you watching us?”
I hold my breath and wait for his answer.
His grin grows. “Frederick told me he planned on pushing your limits today. I wanted to watch. To make sure he didn’t step out of line.”
My stomach gives another flutter. That’s been happening more and more around the Seelie prince. I need to get a grip. There’s nothing sweet about being watched in secret. It’s creepy.
But my stomach refuses to see it that way. “You didn’t think him knocking me on my butt constituted stepping out of line?”
“He’s done worse to me.”
My eyebrows rise. “Rick trained you?”
He chuckles, as amused by the nickname as the first time he heard it. “Yes. He’s my godfather. He took my combat training rather seriously.”
My eyes scan the prince from head to toe. He’s not as bulky as some of the sentries wandering around castle grounds, but he’s definitely fit. His endurance is crazy ridiculous. I swear, when we run together, he barely breaks a sweat. I’d thought it was a Fae thing, but Frederick always seemed decently winded after a run. Not as much as me, but more than Camden. The prince, also, sports muscular arms and a broad torso. He’s not weak, but I hadn’t expected him to train for combat. What business would a prince have learning to fight? Doesn’t he have soldiers for that?
I ask as much. “Why would you train for combat as a prince? I mean, I understand the need to defend yourself, but Rick’s training regimen seems more intense than what you should need.”
Camden moves to sit on the bank of the creek. He motions for me to join him. After a quick glance at the forest around us, I comply. Shifting my seat so I don’t slide down the damp bank, into the mud, I am forced to scoot closer to Camden than planned. I try to act like it’s not a big deal.
“So?” I ask when he doesn’t seem inclined to speak. “Why does the prince of Seelie train like a soldier? Is there a war I don’t know about?” I know there’s this looming Darkness, but again, I’ve seen no evidence of it in Seelie. Everyone seems relatively happy and content, not at all afra
id of impending doom.
“There’s always the potential of war,” he states, and his jaw tenses slightly.
I know he’s not speaking about the Darkness.
“With the Unseelie, you mean?” I remember the banquet and the prince’s blatant hatred of King Sebastian.
“Indeed. There’s no telling what the dark court might do if they feel so inclined.”
I stare at the flowing stream, eyes fixed on the air bubbles rising to the surface as the water passes over the rocks. I’m not sure what he’s talking about, and I have too much on my own plate to even ask.
I offer an empty reply, “I see.”
Silence descends. I can think of nothing else to say. A glance at Camden reveals a peaceful look. He’s content to remain in the quiet. Fine by me. I’m enjoying the calming scenery. It definitely beats being pushed around by Frederick.
Camden’s words come back to me, and I acknowledge Frederick had, apparently, planned to push me to the edge. Had his abrasive behavior been an act?
Even if that’s true, I’m still angry with him. He’d been a grade A ass. I’ll be requiring an apology before I forgive him for his unwise tactics.
“You must be careful during the contest,” Camden finally murmurs. His voice is so low, I almost miss it.
“I plan to be,” I reassure him. “Dying in the Fae Realm is not how I plan to go.”
He flinches, and I regret my nonchalant tone.
“I mean it,” I lean closer, my fingers shifting along the grass. I lower my head to force him to meet my eye. “I promise to be careful.”
Without warning, Camden’s fingers wrap around mine, and he brings my hand to his mouth. His lips press against my knuckles, lingering for several seconds. If that weren’t enough, he closes his eyes, reveling in the contact. My fingers tremble, and I know there’s no hope he doesn’t feel it.
Camden opens his eyes, and pulls his lips from my skin, relieving me of some of the electrifying contact, but his calloused fingers continue to send pleasant sparks across my skin where we touch.
“The rumors are true, you know.”
I blink at him, stunned in more ways than one. “What?”
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