Page 1 of Prince of Night and Storm
Chapter
One
THE MIDNIGHT BALL
“My only love sprung from my only hate!
Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
Prodigious birth of love it is to me
That I must love a loathèd enemy.”
—Romeo and Juliet, Act I, Scene 5
Tonight I submit to Prince Renaud, and die.
I glimpse my enemy the Prince, High Lord of House Montague. My mother's killer, my brother's jailer. The thief of my childhood, and the usurper of my future. He wears stark Court attire; black, white-and-silver, nearly modern. Though there’s nothing modern about the fall of sapphire and onyx hair down his back, pointed ears peekingfrom underneath.
My father and I pause outside the arched entrance to the lush forest bower of Everenne City's soaring White Palace. Anchored by his unflappable bearing, I slide my hand into the crook of his elbow, though nothing can subdue my seething fury and beneath it, fear.
“You woke the fucking Prince, Aerinne!”
I did. The consequences weigh on my shoulders. It’s not only my shoulders that will feel the weight.
“Your mother should have warned you what happens when you catch the eye of a High Lord. OfthisHigh Lord.”
His wintry, malevolent moonstone gaze scythes through the crowd then stops, staring through me. My breath falters as I hold that gaze, then steadies as I force my spiked heart rate to calm.
Baba glances at me. “Are you ready, Aerinne?”
He wears cobalt, House Faronne's primary color, enriching the blue undertones of his deep brown skin. I wear a simple sheath of vermillion silk that bares my golden-brown back and shoulders—the secondary color of my House, incidentally a similar shade to fresh blood.
“The fire of humanity combined with the ethereal grace of the Fae. A hint of Other. We underestimated your allure, Aerinne.”
“Tonight is going to end in someone bleeding,” I say. Though it’s supposed to herald the start of peace I can’t accept. Not if I want to live, and that is now my choice.
Live, and sacrifice my people.
Die, and save them.
The Prince hasn’t looked away; I curl my upper lip, sharp discomfort in my gums, and fill my eyes with a promise that any attempt to take me will be met with violence.
“The safest option for you is for our Prince to take you now and sate his desire. It may be harsh, painful even, but quickly over.”
“I'll tell him no.”
“You aren't listening. We are not human, Aerinne. We don't subscribe to human sensibilities.”
“If you have doubts,” my father says, “we can turn back.”
Baba’s human. He can lie, even to himself. But I appreciate the sentiment.
I exhale. “My doubts are centered mainly around his sanity. You can't end a five-hundred-year feud—” ostensibly the purpose of this farce “—you mostly slept through, with dancing and wine.”
“Lots of wine,” Juliette mutters behind me. “If we're lucky.” My cousin guards my back as always, her tension akin to kitten claws clawing up my spine.
“Your job is to keep Aerinne and Lord Étienne alive,” Numair says, “not drink.”
