Page 2 of Thief of Souls
“Merisel?” whispers a startled voice in my head.
A male voice.
Merisel?That’s not my name.
Why would he call me…?
My eyes blink open in horror, but it’s too late.
Because the spark of magic is consuming me, right at the moment where consciousness meets that dawning darkness.
* * *
Heat and flamessnap around me, and I’m pulled through time and space until I finally slam into the world again.
I suddenly blink and find myself standing within an enormous bedroom. The first gasp of air sends me to my knees, slapping wet palms on the tiles. I can breathe again. Hot, blistering air that burns my ravaged throat and lungs.Warm. The tiles are warm. I want to kiss the floor and bathe in that heat. Or maybe just collapse. Water pours from my body, my shirt clinging to every inch of me. I can’t move. I want to, but I simply don’t have the strength within me.
This is some sort of gift, but fate never deals me a hand like this. Miracles are for pretty blonde fae princesses who have never known a day of toil in their life, until the moment they’re horribly cursed or prick their finger on an enchanted spinning wheel. There’s always a kiss stamped into their destiny, a twist of fate, hope.
But even though my silvery hair might charitably be called blond in a certain light, and my father technicallyisa king, I’m not that princess. I’m the villain of the story. I’m the thief, the liar, the girl of storms with her mercenary heart.
I am the Wraith King’s daughter, and if this is fate, then it’s about to punch me in the teeth.
Get on your feet then, I hiss to myself.
Because the first thing I ever learned is not to crawl. Not for anyone.
So I push my head upright and realize fate is a tricksy bitch after all.
Merisel, he called me, and there’s only one male who knows me by that name. Even though it is—like the rest of me—a lie.
A warm breeze billows through sheer curtains, and I sense someone prowling along the balcony. My breath catches, and I squeeze my fists tight in order to control the response.
I know who it is.
But the part of me that descends from a long line of fae that lived their lives in dark forests, feels the glint of the wolf’s eyes lock on me. I’m not alone, and I’m not trapped in the dark, but something is still hunting me and my body knows it.
The curtains shift and then he’s there, pausing just inside the room as if he’s a little surprised to see me standing there.
Keir.
Prince of Chaos and Dreams.
Our gazes collide and even though it’s been several months since I escaped his court, the impact of his presence hasn’t abated one bit. Dark hair brushes against his collarbone, and his thick brows highlight the intensity of those green-gold eyes. He owns me with a single look. It’s the kind of look you can’t practice. Hundreds of years of overweening arrogance combined with centuries of knowing you’re at the top of the food chain and anything and everything around you is your prey. You are either born with it, or you surrender to it.
“Merisel.” He breathes the word.
The truth hits me like a wall of solid stone: He isn’t looking atmelike that.No. He still thinks me Merisel of Greenslieves.
I wince. Two months ago, Prince Keir sent out a summons in search of a bride, and over twenty prospective princesses and ladies attended in the hopes of capturing his heart.
When Father ordered me to steal the Dragon’s Heart from the Court of Dreams, I’d kidnapped the Lady of Greenslieves and used her alias in order to get inside.
It should have been the perfect cover.
I had the invitation. I had a new identity. I just had to avoid the prince, find the relic, and steal it.
Instead, somehow, I’d captured his eye. And for a second—just a second—I’d known what it felt like to want something for myself, something I knew I couldn’t have because I’m tainted and ruinous, but that didn’t negate the strength of the feeling.
