Page 40 of His Summer Prince

“I see,” the Winter King said. A sneer crossed his face.

Elior closed his eyes. Discovery had always been a possibility.He tried and failed to maintain his calm. The Winter King was going to drag him before his mother, and there’d be hell to pay. The locket would reveal Wren’s identity, and… Elior refused to finish the thought.

The Winter King took Elior’s chin between thumb and forefinger and lifted it, cold seeping into Elior’s bones. “It’s a shame. I would’ve enjoyed getting such a pretty prince under me. I hope your husband appreciates what he has.”

Jerking back, Elior broke his hold. With gritted teeth, he leaned against the wall and stared up at him with utter defiance. “More than you ever could.”

To his surprise, the Winter King’s expression remained unperturbed. “Perhaps,” he said after a moment. “I assume you were a less than willing participant in your mother’s betrothal arrangements?” He stepped back, granting Elior space to breathe.

“I’m sorry your visit is in vain.” At least that was sincere. He’d stood up and inconvenienced a powerful man. His mother was going to be furious.

“I suppose I won’t see you for the betrothal,” the Winter King said, unbothered.

“You’re not angry?”

“Why would I waste my energy on you when half the fae at this court, and more so elsewhere, would happily worship at my feet?”

Begrudgingly, Elior conceded that the Winter King would make a fine husband for another man. Powerful and attractive, he was the most eligible bachelor in Vale, rivaled only by King William. If it weren’t for his insufferable manner and the abysmal cold of the Winter Court, any fae would’ve counted themselves lucky to be betrothed to him.

“I suggest,” the Winter King said, “you return to your husband and make yourself scarce. When the time for thebetrothal ceremony comes and you don’t show, I’m going to act surprised. From what I’ve seen of your mother, she’ll want to send an army to come find you. But I’ll tell her to wait—surely, her upstanding son is only delayed because he’s getting himself ready to be at his most beautiful for me. That’ll buy you time.”

“Why are you doing this?” Elior’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Then it dawned on him. “You want a favor.” It was such a fae thing to do. Elior wouldn’t be sorry to be leaving the faerie realm for good. What a relief humans were less complicated.

“No. In fact, why don’t we settle your debt now? Then you won’t have to worry about it.” The Winter King strode toward him, and before Elior could react, a pair of cool lips pressed against his.

Wren, whose silent presence had been flowing through Elior, surged. For the span of two heartbeats, he joined him in Elior’s body, combining their strength. They pushed the Winter King away and backhand him across the face. Then it was over, though Wren’s righteous anger was still coursing through him.

Unperturbed, the Winter King smiled. “There, your debt is paid. Now get back to your husband before he slaps me again and I’ll have to retaliate.”

Chapter Thirteen

Wren

Wren was boiling with rage. That man had touched Elior. Had kissed him. The bond itself had revolted so powerfully that Wren, not knowing what was happening, had panicked. He’d pushed into their connection with everything he had, diving so deep that he’d seen the world through Elior’s eyes.

Afterward, he’d been keenly aware of Elior’s steps as he fled, seeing a vision of him climbing out of a palace window and escaping into the surrounding forest.

There was something else. It weighed heavily on Elior’s mind, but Wren couldn’t figure out what it was, only that it was important enough to have Elior on edge.

Anxious for his return, Wren fiddled with repairs to the fence, dropping his hammer several times as his nerves got the better of him. The bond was fraught with emotions, fear and hope mixing into a fizzing concoction.

When Elior was close enough for Wren to know he was back in the human world, he dropped everything, jumped on a horse and rode toward him.

He cantered across the fields, his mind churning with worry. When he spotted Elior’s slender shape in the distance, he spurred the horse into a gallop.

When he was mere yards away, Wren halted the horse, jumped off and sprinted. Elior’s golden hair shimmered in the sun, the wind playing with his robe as he ran toward Wren. They collided in the summer breeze, arms wrapping around eachother. Wren fell into Elior’s embrace, sinking against his warm and solid form.

“I was so worried,” Wren mumbled against Elior’s neck, his nose buried in his silky-soft hair, inhaling that incredible flower scent.

“Wren…” Elior’s hands balled into fists in Wren’s shirt, pulling it taut. “I need you to put your trust in me. Can you do that? I don’t have time to explain.”

Anxiety bubbled in the bond, and Wren, without even thinking, sent waves of reassurance. “Of course.”

Elior eased away to look him in the eye. “We need to run. Now.”

“Run?”

“Get as far away as we can. As quickly as we can.”

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