Voron stood still, waiting for the princess to arrive. She didn’t make him wait long.
Arnarra appeared out of thin air. Her faithful dragon swooped down with a cry before flying off into the distance.
Voron’s breath caught in his throat at Arnarra’s beauty. She stood facing him with her head held high, dressed in fighting leathers that showcased every curve of her body. Her long dark hair, the color of midnight, flowed around her shoulders.
“Princess.” He bowed his head like a warrior of his class was bound to do. She had the utmost respect from the men around him. Each of them would die for her, for she was the heart of Faery.
“Rise, Voron. There is no need to bow.”
He lifted his head at her husky voice and watched her approach him. Her hips swayed gently; her silver eyed-eyed gaze roamed his body. His cock took notice of the heat that flashed in her eyes.
He shook his head, for he had to be imagining things. A woman of her caliber wouldn’t be interested in a warrior such as himself.
He had been a slave.
She was royalty.
He’d had to fight to survive.
She was charged with surviving so she could fight for the people of Faery.
They were from two different worlds. If Voron had not been the general, he would never have been gifted the presence of her company at this exact moment.
Voron had to push down the desire he had for her, but he couldn’t help the fantasies that came to his mind when he was alone.
As much as he hated to see her around war and death, he had no place to say. She and her sister had been trained their entire life to defend Faery.
If Voron had his way, she would never have to lift a sword. He and his men would ensure they were protected.
“We have secured the area, Your Grace,” he announced. It was his way of dismissing her. He would take care of everything.
“You love trying to get rid of me, don’t you, General?” She gave an unladylike snort and came to stand in front of him. Her head tilted back so she could meet his gaze. “Don’t think I can handle myself with a sword?”
“That’s not what I said,” he grumbled. He returned Arnarra’s gaze, taking notice of her fierce scowl. It highlighted her beauty, and secretly he loved to rile her. She was a tough female who was just as stubborn as he was.
“Every time I come down to where there has been a battle or an altercation, you make the same statement.” Her eyebrows rose sharply.
“I’m doing my job as a general. Protect the royal family and Faery,” he replied.
Her eyes narrowed on him. She moved closer, standing only a hairsbreadth away.
“Am I not a good enough fighter for the general?” she asked.
He broke the stare and looked away from her. He may not be royalty, but he wasn’t an idiot. There was no way in the seven hells would he answer the question.
“We have taken care of the threat,” he emphasized. “You will be needed to calm Faery. With the rise in attacks, people will need to know the royal family is safe.”
She paused and glared at him.
“You are wise, General.” She slowly nodded.
He had to hand it to her. As much as Faery loved her, she loved Faery more. She would do what was best for the people. That was all he had to remind her of.
“See to it those beasts have crossed back to where they came from.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” He nodded to her. “Of course, we will.”
He stepped back, trying not to breathe in her intoxicating scent. If he didn’t move away from her soon, he was afraid he’d do something foolish such as grab her and kiss her.
He gave a slight bow and spun away.
“General, I want to go, too. I want to see where they came from myself.”
He paused, glancing up at the beautiful, deep-magenta sky. He fought back a roll of his eyes.
Stubborn princess.
He turned back to find her with her hands on her hips, chin lifted high, and daggers in her eyes, daring him to question her.
“Your Grace, it is not safe,” he insisted. He clenched his hands into fists. Why did she have to be so bullheaded?
“With your men around, I’m sure I’ll be just fine.” She brushed past him, heading toward the direction the horde had taken.
He spun around on his heel and met Shelmir’s gaze. His friend shrugged and followed the princess.
Voron blew out a deep breath. He had no choice but to follow the princess, too.
Chapter Two
Arnarra could have left, but a voice in the back of her head told her to go. General Voron knew how to push her buttons. His dismissive ways had her wanting to knock some sense into his head.
Those hard, glaring eyes of his appeared to see right through her. Arnarra knew what the general thought her job should be.
A woman kept away in the palace, hiding, shaking in her heels while the big warrior men went out to fight the war.
She was the princess, the heir to Faery, and she would do as she damn well pleased. She had been trained to fight since she was a young girl and could hang with the finest of warriors.
Calm the people of Faery.
She bit back a snort. Voron thought he could play the sympathy card on her and she would bend.
Not today.
She marched forth with a steady gait. The sea of warriors parted to allow her to move through them. Voron’s gaze was on her. She knew it. Felt it.
The heat of it always sent a rush of adrenaline through her.
She pondered what it would feel like to be held by him.
Kissed by him.
Voron was never far from her mind. The general was a man who commanded a woman’s attention. His long dark hair, intense eyes, and perfectly sculpted body held her focus.
Whenever they were near each other, she saw the interest in his eyes.
She’d have to be blind not to.
Arnarra was sure the same look was reflected in her eyes.
When would they act on the animalistic attraction between them?
She didn’t know, but she prayed it would be soon.
There was only so much teasing, desire, and pent-up sexual tension a woman could take.
Voron left her utterly confused.
She’d witnessed the battle while she flew on the back of Qytho. Her dragon was a little bloodthirsty, and she had promised him that soon, he’d have a mighty snack.
Flying overhead, her gaze had been locked on Voron’s form as he’d taken on the horde. The general stood out amongst the other warriors with his dark-burgundy cape flowing in the wind as he fought. His movements were flawless. Even from the sky, she sensed his power, his rage, and his determination to beat the enemy.
Feeling a presence behind her, she didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
Her feet carried her into the woods. She suspected that a mighty power had been used to open a portal.
The damn dark fae were using dark magic again.
Arnarra paused near where the portal had once stood. The energy from the tear in the atmosphere had left a trace on the ground. Burned grass and leaves littered the area.
“Are there any captives?” Arnarra asked while assessing the ground. She slowly walked around, careful not to step on the darkest part of the land that had been scorched. She held out her hand, trying to feel the magic that had been used.
She breathed in deeply, the palm of her hand growing warm.
“There are a few we haven’t killed yet. I figured I’d question—”
“We will question them.” She cut Voron off. Her gaze flickered to his, and she didn’t miss the scowl that briefly fluttered across his face. “Together.”
She’d bend slightly to try to compromise with the war general. A few of his men filtered in behind him. They watched her curiously as she continued trying to pick up the trace of magic.
She closed her eyes and allowed the energy to flow into her. Her body temperature dropped, the p
ower leaving an icy trail in her veins.
It was dark magic.
The chill had her body trembling, and she gasped.
“Arnarra,” Voron snapped. His voice was like a distant echo.
She concentrated, almost able detect the wielder of the magic.
She was so close.
Her breaths came faster as she held on to the trace. Her lips tingled and ached.
Her eyes snapped open.
She had him.
Voron’s gaze was fierce while he watched her.
She immediately pushed the energy from her. Warmth rushed into her body as her powers sent the cold, dark magic out into the atmosphere.
Arnarra blew out a deep breath, the air escaping in a dark cloud.
“Dark magic,” someone whispered.
Arnarra blinked, now entirely in control of her body.
“Are you okay?” Voron asked. He stepped closer to her with a concerned look. He was very protective of her and her family.
“I’m fine,” she muttered. Welcoming dark magic inside her was never fun, but it was necessary. She straightened to her full height. She knew who had cast the spell.
Dorceti.
The strongest mage ever to wield dark magic had opened the portal.
He was the right hand to the dark fae king, Sanev.
This wasn’t good.
“You look shaken,” Voron disclosed. He held out his arm for her to take.
She hesitated before resting her hand on him. She was still weakened by the absorption of dark energy.
Voron’s thick muscles underneath her fingers were comforting. “What was that?”
“Dorceti’s magic,” she whispered.
A quick intake of breath sounded.
Silence surrounded them. Arnarra glanced at the warriors near them. Fierce scowls were on their faces, for they each knew of Dorceti and Sanev.
Sanev was after the throne.
According to him, he was the one true king of Faery.
“Sanev?” Voron growled. His muscles tensed.
“No, he wasn’t here.” She shook her head. She would have sensed if the powerful dark fae had crossed over to their lands.
Sanev was the archenemy of the Maglynn family. Her father and Sanev had grown up together where they had trained as warriors in their youth. Her father, King Gormer Maglynn, had been groomed since birth to be a leader. His father, the king before him, wanted his son to become a great warrior. Her grandfather believed only a fae who understood war would know how to be a great king.
Then the civil war happened.
The races of fae were split—light versus the dark.
Two young fae warriors who had once considered each other friends became enemies.
Why Sanev believed he was the rightful king of Faery, she didn’t know and didn’t care. He wouldn’t get the chance to sit on the very chair that belonged to the Maglynns.
Arnarra would do whatever she needed to ensure it never happened.
For as long as she held breath in her lungs, a Maglynn would sit on the throne.
“I want the perimeter secured around the palace.” Her gaze flickered back to Voron, who nodded. “No one enters or leaves Ohlian.” The capital city of Faery would have to be protected. This would be cumbersome. It would be impossible to monitor every entrance and exit to Faery, but they would start with Ohlian, the source of Faery’s power.
“You want the city on lockdown?” he asked. He straightened while waiting for her command. Voron was always a warrior at heart. He was one tough son of a bitch, and it was a good thing he was on their side.
She returned his hard gaze, unblinking.
Without a doubt, when it came to Faery’s protection, they would put aside their bickering.
“We have no other choice.” She released his arm and pulled in a deep breath. She took a step away from him, her gaze sweeping the men before her. “By the command of the royal family, Ohlian is officially on lockdown. No one leaves or enters the city without permission.”
Nods went around to confirm her command.
She would report her findings to her father, but she already knew what must be done.
“Wards will surround the city. Whoever needs to leave the city, needs to do so now,” she commanded.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Voron and his men replied.
Voron signaled to his man, Shelmir. “See to it that word gets out. Secure the perimeter of the capital, and I will join you once I have updated the king and queen.”
“Aye, sir.” Shelmir glanced at her and bowed deeply. “Your Grace.” He motioned for the men to follow him.
“I take it we’re not going to walk up to the palace?” Voron’s eyebrows rose high.
“Why walk when I can get us there faster?” Her lips curved up into a small smile. She held out her hand, and his larger one engulfed hers. She pulled him to her and closed her eyes, using her powers of teleportation.
The woods dissolved. A soft breeze blew around them as she pictured their destination. Within a few moments, they were standing inside the grand foyer of her family’s home.
She glanced up at Voron and watched his eyes flutter open. His hands had somehow found their way to her hips. Her chest was pressed against his. She didn’t remember them being this close, but now that they were, she could appreciate the feel of his hardened muscles.
As if realizing their proximity, Voron immediately released her. “Forgive me, my lady.”
He took a step back from her and glanced around. The foyer was empty except for the two of them.
There was no time like the present to give him a little hint that she knew of his desire for her.
“I don’t mind your hands on me, General.”
He froze in place, eyes cast to the floor. Arnarra bit her bottom lip, unsure if blurting those words out had been smart.
“Princess, don’t say that.” He shook his head. He looked to her, and there was pain buried deep in his eyes.
“I speak the truth,” she whispered. She stepped forward, closing the gap between them.
She was absolutely positive that this tension would be electric if only they acted on it. She rested her hand on Voron’s bare chest. Scars lined his perfectly sculpted body. She was filled with curiosity, wanting to know where and how he’d received every single one of them. She stared down at his tanned skin, so much lighter than her brown. His chest rose and fell swiftly. His left arm was covered by a steel plate that protected him. His waist was tapered, and her gaze fell to his sword sheathed on his hip.
Voron was a magnificent male specimen who called to the woman in her.
“You are royalty. The future queen.” He gently lifted her hand and held it in his own, studying it as if seeing it for the first time.
“What is that supposed to mean?” She tilted her head to the side, waiting for a response.
“I am a former slave—”
“Who is now the general of the armies of Faery,” she said.
She knew of his past. She would have to. As the princess, she was privy to the background of the man who would lead their armies into war. He had been chosen by her father. Voron’s loyalty to the throne was undeniable. He’d worked hard over the years and earned his title of general. There was no other man who was more fit for the job than he.
He was a trustworthy warrior who commanded respect not only on the battlefield but in the hearts of all the men who followed him.
Voron stared at her then released her hand. “You know of my background.”
It wasn’t a question but a statement. Voron looked away from Arnarra, but it wasn’t before a flash of something she couldn’t explain crossed his face. Was he ashamed? Embarrassed? She didn’t know.
“Of course I do. I know what you went through—”
“You don’t know what I went through.” It was his turn to cut her off. He ran a trembling hand along his face. The pulse at the base of his neck was thready and fast. He was affected by her just as she was by him. H
e spun away from her and walked toward the staircase that led to the second floor. He glanced back over his shoulder. “Come. The king will need my report.”
Arnarra stood frozen in place, watching Voron walk away from her.
Chapter Three
“What are you telling me?” King Maglynn demanded. “Sanev released his horde onto Ohlian through a portal?”
The king sat on his throne next to the queen. They shared a look before turning their attention back to Voron.
He was painfully aware of Arnarra standing next to him.
I don’t mind your hands on me, General.
Her words fluttered through his mind. His heart raced with the memory of her touching him. The warmth of her skin had seeped through his pores and almost had him forgetting she was the princess.
Turning his back on her was disrespectful, he knew, but it was better than doing what he’d wanted to do.
Lift her up and carry her to his quarters to have his way with her.
From the heat burning brightly in her argent eyes, she’d have allowed him, too.
Those shimmery pools of silver were mesmerizing, unique and infamous. Arnarra had suitors from near and far attempting to court her. Eligible bachelors from realms other than Faery had even tried to win Arnarra’s hand. Men who had something to offer her. Wealth, powerful families, everything Voron didn’t have.
“That is exactly what I’m saying. I was able to trace the magic, and it was Dorceti who opened the portal,” Arnarra replied.
“And you are sure of this?” Queen Kylantha asked. She shared similarities with Arnarra. The queen was beautiful, fierce, and loved by all of Faery.
“Yes, Mother.” Arnarra nodded.
Voron tried not to stare at her. He was captivated by her and fought to keep his feelings for her locked away.
One hundred years ago, Voron had been born to a young, poor Fae couple. He had snippets of memories of his parents. He couldn’t remember his father’s face but had a fond memory of being carried on his broad shoulders. His mother? The one thing that had stuck with him through all the years was her smile.
As a child, Voron had been ripped from his parents. The civil war that had torn Faery into two factions was brutal. He was taken at the tender age of eight and never saw them again.
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