Tearloch’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps they are afraid to embarrass themselves.”
“Right.”
Aedan threw a double-punch at the dummy.
They both knew the real reason. None wanted to spar with a prince. Go too easy on him, and they would be branded a coward who doubted Aedan’s ability to fight. Go too hard on him, and they would fear repercussions for daring to best a royal.
It was a no win situation.
Aedan resented the Everdark out of all of them. He needed a training partner, someone who could both challenge him and allow him an outlet for his mounting frustrations.
When none stepped forward, he turned to the dummy.
“You haven’t asked me,” Tearloch said.
Aedan didn’t miss a punch. “Would you say yes?”
“I might,” the Captain replied. “If you were asking for the right reason.”
Aedan pulled up short, stared at Tearloch. “What is the right reason?”
“To train.”
“And the wrong one?”
Tearloch’s eyes narrowed again. “To forget.”
Aedan huffed out a laugh and went back to punching the dummy.
“What if it’s both?”
The door to the training room swung open and before Tearloch could answer Aedan’s question, a loud, boisterous voice called out, “And here he is, the Party Prince himself.”
Aedan scowled at the teasing nickname. It had never bothered him before, the idea that everyone thought of him as the carefree, fun-loving spare to the throne. He had well earned it. The young royal as depraved as he was daring. Nights spent in the tavern, days spent in bed. His life had been a perpetual party.
But now, for some reason, the nickname rankled.
He intended to ignore the comment, to ignore the ignorant fae who had spoken the words and to continue his sparring match with the dummy. But then he felt a flash of power surge through him. A boost to his magic that could only come from the negative emotions of a human. Irritation, to be precise.
Tearloch waved at the intruder. “More like the Punching Prince at the moment, Peter.”
Peter? Ah, yes, the human guard from the sanctuary. Aedan had seen the young man on the days he passed his la ainmhi in the protected meadow that served as a neutral safe ground for all the unseelie clans. Bright red hair, freckled skin, and a smile always in place.
Aedan wouldn’t expect such a negative emotion from him. Then again, he didn’t truly know the human.
Cathair counted Peter a friend, but Aedan had never spoken to him.
He started to turn his attention back to the dummy. Until Tearloch asked, “What brings you to the palace, Bree?”
The surge to his magic doubled.
Clearly she—Bree—was the source of the negative emotions that were currently feeding his magic. That made more sense.
“An assignment, Captain,” she said curtly.
Her words might have sounded polite, but anyone with a drop of fae blood could sense her displeasure.
Curious, Aedan turned away from the dummy.
Fire.
The word burst, unbidden, into his thoughts. Pure, burning heat.
Her hair was the color of a late summer sunset, and though it was pulled back behind her into some kind of braid, he could tell it fell long down her back. She was a delicate-looking thing, all pale skin and big eyes. But she held herself like a fighter, like a well-trained guard. Feet planted hip-width apart, arms straight at her side, back stiff with perfect posture.
Only her eyes contradicted her military bearing. They stared straight at him, straight at Aedan. And then burned straight through him.
Somehow, he was the source of her irritation.
“What kind of assignment?” Tearloch asked.
Aedan thought he already knew the answer.
“I am assigned the task of guarding Prince Aedan.”
Beside him, Tearloch smiled. “Are you, then?”
She nodded curtly.
Peter grinned. With the same coloring, they could only be siblings.
“No thanks,” Aedan said.
Her eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said, No thanks,” he repeated. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
Aedan could take care of himself. He had been caught off guard one time. It would never happen again.
Her irritation turned to anger, and his magic thanked her for it.
The girl took a step toward him. “Well that’s just too bad, because you’re stuck with me.”
Another surge.
Peter and Tearloch shared a laugh.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” the human asked.
Tearloch nodded. “This will be an interesting match.”
Peter laughed again. “Perhaps we should leave them to get acquainted.”
Aedan ignored the pair as they headed from the room. He ignored the fire-haired girl who glared at him like she might a naughty child. He turned back to the dummy and resumed his punching.
The girl moved into his peripheral vision.
“You should go with them,” he told her between punches.
She crossed her arms over her chest. She said simply, “I have been given an assignment.”
As if that was the end of the discussion.
And perhaps it was. His magic danced with her waves of emotion. As much as Aedan wanted to tell his brother to go to the Everdark with his babysitter, he wanted the surge of power her anger gave his magic even more.
Four
Bree knew there were worse duties she could have. Cleaning out the royal stables. Being stationed at the Wasteland outpost. Escorting an envoy through the territory of the deadly Roghann clan. But after four days as Aedan’s babysitter, she would prefer any of them.
Her duty quickly became a boring routine. Show up at first light to relieve Regan from overnight door duty. Stand sentry until Aedan emerged and headed for the training room. Watch him train, fight, eat, repeat, and return to his room. Stand sentry until Regan showed up at nightfall to take over.
Thrilling stuff.
Aedan, for the most part, seemed content to pretend she wasn’t there. He threw her the occasional annoyed glare—then grinned when she scowled back—but otherwise theirs was a non-verbal relationship. Which she liked just fine.
It gave her time to list all the duty assignments she would prefer to have. Ones that might actually lead to her full induction into the Seer Guard.
The prince’s bedroom door swung open. Bree straightened herself to full attention, just in case her posture had slipped during the half hour she’d been standing there.
Instead of breezing past her like she wasn’t there, as he had done the past three mornings, Aedan stopped.
Her gaze darted to him.
He usually wore a loose-fitting shirt with breeches—the kind of pants that human boys wouldn’t be caught dead wearing unless they were male gymnasts or fashion models, but that somehow looked amazing on fae guys. But this morning he wore gym shorts and a tank top that said Know Pain Know Gain. And—her gaze dipped to his feet, which were usually either bare or encased in medieval-looking boots—athletic shoes.
“Where did you get those?” she asked before she could stop herself.
He scowled and ignored her question. “I am going for a run.”
“Okay,” she said automatically. “Let’s go.”
He looked as though he’d expected her to beg off. As if she would shirk her duty because she didn’t want to break a sweat.
In truth, she was itching for a good workout. Four days of watching Aedan put his body through the paces while she stood on the sidelines made her itch to do the same. Exercise was one of her life essentials, along with eating, sleeping, and breathing. But between the sixteen hour days and the trek home and back every night and morning, she was barely getting enough sleep, let alone finding time for a workout.
At least she was getting plenty of food and air.
 
; The chance to push herself on a run would be a welcome change. She didn’t know how much of a challenge running with the spoiled prince would be, though. Punching a fight dummy was one thing. Actually putting in the miles was another.
She was glad she’d opted for her sneakers today instead of her boots.
The Seer Guard didn’t have a uniform, exactly. They were meant to remain neutral and to blend in, since they were visible to any humans who might stumble onto the sanctuary. Which meant they were allowed to wear whatever they wanted.
She usually went with cargo pants and hiking boots. But today, trail runners.
Bree trailed Aedan down the stairwell in the residence wing, across the courtyard, and out into the woods that surrounded the palace. They fell into an easy silence as they jogged along a path that had been worn into the earth by countless generations of deer and other forest creatures.
For security reasons, Bree kept herself slightly behind Aedan. That allowed her to have better eyes on their surroundings. The last thing she wanted was someone sneaking up behind them. If she failed at this duty, she would never receive another.
But as time passed, it became clear that they were among the only creatures in the forest. Bree heard birds singing and saw a few squirrels racing up tree trunks, but otherwise they were on their own.
She prefered it that way. The less she had to focus on their surroundings, the more she could focus on her run.
And on her running partner.
She had underestimated his fitness. Aedan moved with the easy gait of a practiced runner. Even though sweat dampened the dark curls at the base of his neck and glistened on his tan arms, he seemed barely affected by the pace.
He kept glancing over his shoulder every few steps, as if making sure she was still there.
“You don’t have to hold back for me,” she told him. “I can take whatever speed you throw at me.”
He looked again and Bree saw the doubt in his eyes. He didn’t think she could take it.
To prove him wrong, she kicked up her pace and breezed past him.
It took him a few seconds to recover and then catch up. Then, as if wanting to test her, he picked up their speed again.
She wouldn’t say she maintained that pace without effort—her muscles were beginning to burn and her lungs were sucking at the damp, earthy air—but the exertion felt good. No, it felt amazing.
Bree wanted to close her eyes. If not for the unfamiliar terrain, she would have. Just to enjoy the sensation. The crunch of her sneakers on the twigs and needles that littered the path. The sweet melody of a forest songbird. The scent of fresh pine and rich soil.
This was heaven.
“Winnie,” Aedan said, startling her after such a long silence.
She stumbled a step, but quickly recovered.
Bree threw him a side-eye. “No. Bree.”
“She gave me these clothes.” He gestured at the athletic apparel. “She thought they might be easier to train in.”
“Ah,” Bree said, mostly because she wasn’t sure what to say. “And are they?”
He shrugged, as if it made no difference to him.
Bree scanned her gaze over the outfit, and found herself not able to look away. His arm muscles flexed and pulsed with every step. Droplets of sweat had collected on the curls around his face. And the flush of pink on his cheeks gave him a healthy glow.
He was, in a word, perfect.
Bree shook her head and forced her gaze back on the path. The last thing she should be doing was having even a hint of any interest in him. He was a prince, for goodness sake. A full-blooded royal.
Off limits.
“Ready to turn back?” he asked.
He said it casually, as if he was ready to go back himself and just wanted to get confirmation from her. But Bree heard the subtext. It was a challenge. He thought she was ready to give up, that her body had reached it’s max.
He didn’t know the first thing about her.
“Nope,” she said just as casually, with an extra sunny smile. “I could run all day.”
He smirked and kicked up the pace.
Challenge accepted.
Five
Aedan piled his plate high from the breakfast buffet. Sweet-smelling slices of melon, thick fluffy griddlecakes, sizzling sausage. He took some of everything. He had never been much of a breakfast eater, but the daily runs and grueling hours in the training room left him famished. If he didn’t eat, he couldn’t train.
He could already feel his body transforming. He was lifting heavier weight with less efforts. The morning runs were getting easier. He could run faster and for longer.
What surprised him was Bree.
If anyone had asked, he never would have thought the human could keep up with him. Depleted though the magic of his clan was, his supernatural ability should have been such that he could to outpace any ordinary human.
Bree had quickly proven that she was anything but ordinary.
Morning after morning she stood waiting at his door when he emerged from his chamber, her running shoes laced tight and an eager look on her face. She actually seemed to look forward to the runs.
Aedan had to admit that running was his least favorite activity. It was a means to an end. A shortcut to the fitness and stamina that he sought.
Bree reveled in it.
He knew that the grueling pace and duration of the runs wore on her. He could feel it in the way his magic charged as her muscle exhaustion transformed into pain. But still she ran.
Step for step, she kept up with him. No matter what pace he set. No matter how far he pushed her. She kept up. She pushed through the pain.
He had to respect her for that.
“Can you give me some bacon?” she asked.
He looked at her plate, which was piled even higher than his. She held that dish in one hand and a bowl full of granola, yogurt, and berries in the other.
He smiled at the abundance of her selections.
“Leave some for the rest of us,” he teased.
The words felt awkward on his tongue. It had been a long time since he felt like teasing anyone.
She speared him with a mock-glare. “If you didn’t run me so hard, I wouldn’t have to refuel like this.”
He grabbed the tongs from the platter of bacon and added two slices to her pile.
“You’re joking, right?” she asked.
He raised his brows at her.
“More, please.”
He added two more pieces and, when she opened her mouth to ask, two more.
She flashed him a sunny grin. “Thank you.”
That grin did something to his insides. Something like a cross between a pain and an itch, right behind his sternum. There was something so light and bright about her smile. Almost as if it could burn away the dark shadows lurking inside of him.
He snorted at his own foolish thoughts.
Nothing but pain and power could chase those shadows away.
Then he spun in his heel and walked to one of the small tables in the corner.
Aedan used to love eating in the royal dining hall. The room was always full of people, full of the energy of the palace beginning its day. He would always place himself in the center of the largest group and made it his mission to be the center of their attention.
Now he preferred to watch from the sidelines.
He stared for a moment at the food on his plate. There was so much of it. So many choices. Surely more than he could possibly actually eat.
But he would eat every last bite.
His stomach roared, reminding him of the near-starvation at Ultan’s hands. The traitor fed Aedan only enough to keep him alive and conscious, and not a calorie more.
The first time Aedan saw himself in the mirror after his rescue, he hadn’t recognized himself. Who was that gaunt specter? Certainly not the vibrant healthy young fae he had always believed himself to be.
Between the muscle-building workouts and the calorie-packed meals, he was
starting to look like himself again. That didn’t make facing himself in the mirror any easier. But he would take what progress he could.
He wondered if he would ever not pile his plate as high as possible again? Would he ever not harbor the fear that his next meal might never come?
A large glass of pomegranate juice appeared next to his plate.
“Thought you might need something to wash all that down with.” Bree slid into the chair across the table from his.
He nodded his thanks.
The morning of their first run, he had resented eating with her. He wanted to be left alone with his food.
Now he was glad she joined him. Her presence made him slow down. Made him actually taste his food. Made him believe that he might one day enjoy the foods he once loved again, as more than just a means of survival.
“Great Morrigan,” Bree said some time later when she had cleared most of her plate. “That was amazing.”
Aedan picked up his untouched juice and down half the glass in one gulp.
“What’s on your schedule today?” she asked.
She had asked the question every morning after their runs.
He shrugged. “Same.”
Which meant as many hours as he could stand in the training room, and then retiring to his chamber for a hot bath and then falling asleep while the books on magical development he had requested from the palace librarian.
A tiny frown line appeared between Bree’s brows.
“You know the trial is starting today?”
It took all of his strength and restraint not to shove back from the table. Every muscle in his body tensed and his fist tightened around the juice glass.
Several long seconds and several deep breaths later he felt in control enough to say, “Yes.”
How could he not know? Ultan’s trial for kidnapping Aedan, attempting to assassinate Cathair, and conspiring to raise the Dark Clan would be the largest trial in Moraine history. It was all anyone in the palace talked about.
His nightmares for the last three nights had been worse than ever.
She tilted her head slightly to the side, sending the strands of hair that had escaped her braid swinging across her face.