Page 41 of The Nightbound Soldier

18

FLEUR

Nottuza brought me to the Winter Court and left me on one of the upper floors of the Ice Princess, a massive structure no fae has ever lived in and no Summer fairy has ever even visited. While I appreciate the freedom of exploring the Ice Princess on my own, the speed of his departure leaves me with questions, namely about his urgency.

Judging by the quietness in the tower, one would think it’s abandoned, but vampires move soundlessly, and the Unseelie can do the same via the shadows. If the royal family, meaning Aamako and Augusta, let me pick any space I like on the floor, it means this floor and likely at least two floors down are at my disposal.

The clicking of the heels of my boots disrupts the silence as I approach the spiral staircase in the middle and look down the twirling length that ends in a pitch-black void, of shadows, no doubt.

“Creepy,” Evie says next to me.

“Oh my fates! How is it that people are creeping up on me like this and I don’t hear anyone?” I tug at my pointy ear. “Maybe I’m losing my hearing.”

Evie looks worse for wear, with bloodshot eyes. “You should really be more alert, Fleur. Especially in this court.”

I shrug. “I should, but I’m not, because the scariest monster already left. How are you feeling?”

She pats her belly. “Still nauseous, but better.” She looks around. “It’s bright and airy. I expected a dark tower where everything looked like the dungeon of pain and screams.”

The Ice Princess’s walls are painted iridescent white with a touch of silver glitter. Tall, thin windows built between the floors let in plenty of light, making the glitter on the walls twinkle.

“The architecture in the Winter Court,” I tell Evie as I grab her hand and pull her toward a door, “is spectacular and, in some parts, I hear, unusual because the Unseelie family carried the magic of structural design.”

“You know I love a well-made structure.”

“And a well-made male.” I tuck my hand around her elbow.

“Mmhm,” Evie mumbles as we stand before the elven-made off-white door of the first room on the right from the entrance.

The door features a light gray painting of buildings under a mountain range and a single tree with pink blooms. I trace the blooms with my finger. “I doubt the late prince ever touched this tower, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he toyed with it even if he wasn’t supposed to. He ruled this court for over eighty turns.”

“Still couldn’t overrule the king,” Evie says. “It’s too bad, really. Maybe it would’ve saved the court.”

“Or maybe the prince’s rule would’ve expanded the court beyond the borders. Neguan was an ambitious male without conscience.” Unpleasant memories of the late Useelie prince arise.

“Are you saying that he was an entitled prick with an inflated ego and far too many females falling for him for you to spare him a glance?”

“Something like that.” It’s why he tried to force me. Luckily, El’jah stepped in. My brother isn’t always the sweet golden boy everyone thinks he is. There’s a terribly vicious Unseelie side to him that comes out to play whenever people provoke him. Every one of us has a darkness inside. It’s just that some of us control it better than others.

“Shall we?” Evie opens the door, and we enter a bright space with a massive bed covered with a black silk sheet with little white and red bears painted on the edges. Two silver pillows stand out on the bed, while the crocheted tapestry in pale red and white hangs above the bed, acting as a headboard.

Two lounging chairs, one black, the other, white, face the unlit fireplace. A small alcove on the side tells me there’s a dressing room and probably a private bathing chamber with a pot. The walls are painted too. Mountain ranges again.

It’s a beautiful space. I want it.

Evie side-eyes me with light in her brown eyes previously dulled from the nausea the trip gave her. “Whose room is this?”

“Yours?” I prompt, even though I like it.

“You don’t want it?”

Even if I did, the twinkle in Evie’s eye tells me she wants it, but she’ll refuse it because I’m the crown princess and her friend. “Nah. I’m looking for something bigger.”

Evie smirks. “Bigger, huh?”

We’re perverted. Our heads are full of big rods we’d like to ride, so every reference to size is taken out of context. When she and I are alone, most times our conversations stroll down the perv lane.

She walks to the bed and falls on it, face-first. “I rode a crazy mobile out of my crazy family’s house and buried my father, who left me with an inheritance my husband will claim. And I don’t have a husband. This room found me. The bed…” Her eyes flutter closed, “is so fluffy.”

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