Page 4 of His Summer Prince

Chapter One

Wren

Twelve years later

“Quiet!” Elior hissed, the spluttering guffaw that followed killing all the bite the scolding might’ve held.

Wren chortled, trying to muffle the sound by clamping a hand over his mouth. It was no use. They’d stolen a bottle of faerie wine right from under the nose of some high lady of the Autumn Court. By the time the poor woman was whipping her head left and right to find the missing bottle, Wren and his best friend were halfway out the wedding hall.

It was the autumn equinox, and representatives of the faerie courts, as well as human nobles from all over Vale, had come to celebrate the wedding of Lord Malorn of the Autumn Court to his young human husband, Henry of Stagfield. Elior’s mother, the Summer Queen, had asked him to represent their court as she and the crown princess were unable to attend.

Wren, unwilling to waste a single day with Elior before the onset of winter, had volunteered to work for Master Henry’s wedding party, serving food and drink. Stealing the latter had not been part of the plan, but when Elior, all naughty smiles and raised eyebrows, had suggested nicking a bottle, Wren had enthusiastically supported his thieving efforts, offering distraction while Elior snatched the faerie wine.

Wren would gladly go along with anything Elior came up with. It went both ways. For the past twelve years, they’dspent their summers together. As soon as the spring festival concluded, Wren would drive the sheep over the hills to their summer pastures, taking their livestock from the barn in Castlehill to the lush green Somer Valley. Then, for almost six months, Wren and Elior were inseparable. When autumn advanced and the world grew cold and hostile, the sheep had to return home, and so did Elior. Summer fae were sensitive to the cold, and the icy fist of winter could wring the life from them in less than a day. Wren and Elior had no choice but to spend half the year apart, no matter how much they hated the separation.

Five years after Wren and Elior had first met, Agnes married. From then on, it was just him and Elior during the summer. Tending sheep was hard work, but Elior helped happily, sharing the load. Wren was beyond grateful, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for Elior.

They snuck through the nightly shadows of Stagfort’s courtyard, the bottle hidden under Elior’s shawl. If the autumn fae knights guarding the fort saw them, they paid them no mind. Elior was a prince of the Summer Court, and in a time where previously unthinkable political alliances were being forged, no court wanted to get on another’s bad side.

Laughing, Wren took Elior’s hand, his whole body humming at the touch, and led him across the drawbridge and through the forest. Leaves crunched under their feet, and high up in the trees, an owl hooted. They hurried down the hill, Elior’s nimbleness ensuring they wouldn’t fall in the dark.

At the bottom of the slope, they passed through the veil, the familiar slide of cool silk brushing Wren’s skin. Only in the human world was it safe for him to drink the faerie wine. Well, somewhat safe. While faerie wine was free of alcohol, it had other interesting properties.

Panting, they stopped at the edge of the forest. Wren slumped against a tree, the bark rough on his back, the thin linen ofhis shirt the only thing separating him from the coarse rind. He didn’t care, the evening having left him giddy with joy since he’d gotten to dance with Elior during the festivities. The faerie dance was dangerous to humans, forcing them to move to the rhythm of the drums until either they dropped dead or the music stopped. The entire wedding had been a bizarre affair of hazardous dances and overflowing trays of food, which the human guests couldn’t eat.

Wren hadn’t thought twice about dancing with Elior. He trusted him with his life. Putting himself in Elior’s hands had been exhilarating, his heart still racing from the high.

Elior was just as giddy, grinning as he closed in on Wren where he was leaning against the tree. Above them, the stars twinkled, and the moon shone its silver light on them, catching on Elior’s golden circlet.

They’d come of age at the end of summer, and Wren noticed more and more how gorgeous Elior was. He’d never been blind to his beauty, but since they’d made the transition from boys to young men, Elior’s inherent grace had struck a new cord in him.

He loved his satiny, strawberry blond hair, those regal features with the long straight nose, high cheekbones and perfectly curved apricot lips. Elior, no matter whether they were milking sheep or attending balls, was always dressed impeccably in gold-trimmed garments of raw silk. Wren didn’t know how he managed to keep them spotless.

His gaze slid down Elior’s body, the fitted tunic underlining his slim but masculine figure. Over the years, whenever they had gone swimming in the lake, Wren had seen what lay underneath, but it was only recently that the sight of Elior awoke desire in him. He’d been called a late bloomer for his lack of interest in boys and girls. With Elior before him in all his glory, something was definitely blooming in Wren. Nobody measured up to Elior. A shiver raced through him.

“Are you cold?” Elior asked. He didn’t wait for an answer but moved in close, wrapping them in his paisley shawl.

With their bodies pressed together, heat ignited in Wren’s belly. His heart leaped into a race, and his stomach clenched in the most exquisite way. Being close to Elior was unlike any other pleasure.

“Better?” Elior asked, his thighs brushing Wren’s.

“Much.”

They were the same height, their bodies aligning from head to toe. Wren better get his urges under control before the proximity overpowered him. To distract himself, he brought up the one topic they’d been avoiding. “How much longer can you stay in the human world?”

Elior hugged him, and his melancholy seeped into Wren. “If we’re lucky, two weeks.”

Wren’s hands balled into fists. The pain of separation pierced him. Every year, they tried not to think about it, tried to prolong the summer by pretending it was endless. But then it would end, and they’d be ripped apart by nature’s icy grip.

Two years ago, disregarding how much his family needed him to keep the house running and the animals looked after, Wren had put on his warmest clothes and attempted to trudge across the snow-covered hills to get to the Summer Court and see Elior. When he was stuck to his hips in snow and couldn’t feel his toes anymore, he’d had to concede that setting out had been a terrible idea. If only he could stay with Elior over the winter. But Wren’s family needed him, and the Summer Queen wouldn’t allow her son to host a human.

“One day,” Wren said, “we’ll find a way to spend the winters together.”

“Such feeble human promises.” Elior’s hot breath ghosted Wren’s pulse point, bringing his blood to a boil.

“I hate being away from you.”

“Me too.” Elior sighed deeply, sending more damp breath tickling across Wren’s neck. “I don’t want to leave.”

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