Page 45 of Prince of Night and Storm
He disengages and leaps back, farther and faster than I’ve seen him ever move—I almost admire how he’s flipped my script. Baroun lifts a hand and waves his fingers before disappearing into the melee.
Prince Renaud takes his place, a blade in his hand. “You survived Baroun, Lady Aerinne—though he wasn't trying to kill you, now or in the past. Still. You're Skilled.”
I retreat. “I'm not telling you anything.”
He tilts his head. “I didn’t ask you to.”
This close to him it's hard to breathe the air. His power hoards the molecules, setting them on fire. My breath catches; I struggle to breath past it, but not because I lack oxygen.
A sigh leaves his lips, and his uptilted eyes sink into mine. “The world has moved faster this time while I slept. I fear to navigate it without my anchor.”
How does a minnow anchor a shark. He is simply more than any other person on this field, a demigodcome to life, his strength and beauty effortless, the press of age behind his eyes an uneasy reminder that this male is as above the “average” High Fae as I'm above a cricket.
I give myself a nice, sharp mental slap. “I doubt there's anything you fear.”
He lowers his head, the sapphire in his black hair shimmering as a ray of light hits the ground. My gaze trails over the silken strands as they fall carelessly over his chest.
“Tell me you considered my offer,” he says softly. “Hurting you is not my intent, nor in our interests.”
For a raw moment, I hunger. Imagine stepping forward and slipping my fingers into that hair, draping it over arms that shouldn’t be bare in his presence. When I lift my gaze to his—there’s knowing in his eyes, and underneath that, the same?—
Flinching back, I shift my focus to his ear.
“It's almost cute you think I believe that.” There’s barely enough edge in my voice to disguise trepidation, but I don’t think I’d fool him even if there were.
“Why would I wish to damage what is mine, Aerinne?” So gentle, that voice. So absent mercy.
“What?”
Slowly, he lifts his free hand, fingers outstretched, hovering near my face. “I did not suffer to wake because I wished to engage toddlers in pointless playground exercise.” I check another flinch, but he notes the withdrawal anyway, displeasure shifting the line of his mouth.
“Then go back to sleep,” I say.
“It's too late for that now. What is the purpose of this fight?” The hand closes, lowering back to his side. His eyes linger briefly on my mouth.
What are we doing here. For a moment it’s as if something captures and yanks from me the purpose of the last two decades and I feel so hollow in that moment I nearly stagger to my knees.
This time when I stare at him, it’s with dread and I force myself to remember. “To remind the Houses that Faronne and our allies are not to be toyed with. To avenge our dead.” Realms—I sound young even to myself.
“Ah. That purpose.” A barely perceptible curve of his lips. “Very well.”
He moves.
I curse, shifting out of the way a second before his weight would have taken me to the ground.
Our swords ring out as they clash as I invoke a Skill. From testing, we can’t quite determine if I’m physically invisible through manipulation of light, or if I’ve somehow convinced my opponent they don’t see me.
From the slight narrowing of his eyes, it affects him.
My feet move faster, fueled by new energy. I have an edge on the Prince of Everenne! I want to lunge and sink teeth into his throat, and two different desires war on what to do after his throat is subdued by my bite. Ignore both urges. Neither can be helped.
I pace my power in pulses, slipping from sight as I move in for a killing blow, then another, each one countered as I hoard my energy to avoid burn out.
Blood of my mother, this male is fast. Despite what must be the dizziness of me winking in and out of his vision, my speed, he evades me.
Clearly Skills aren't get out of the dungeon free cards.
After too long in this stalemate, I fall back. He's playing Baroun's game, testing me. His own grace and speed, the power under his skin which he has yet to use against me. . .the Prince mimics a schoolmaster quizzing a student.
