The snow fell lazily beyond the dark window, coating the riverside estate and its dormant rolling gardens in a soft dusting of pale glitter. Mesmerized, Cenric watched as the flecks floated past the large panes, the icy crystals dancing as they descended. A typical solstice storm, burying the City of Starlight in a white blanket of soft, white powder - one that he and his sister would no doubt play in come the following morning. After the evening's celebrations and present-opening, that was.
A wisp of cold slithered through the windows and sent a shiver down his spine.
Rubbing his hands down his arms, he turned his attention to the fire burning brightly in the hearth behind him, its warmth at odds with the darkness and cold that lurked beyond the window. A holiday to celebrate that darkness, one that encompassed the very nature of their court.
A holiday that also happened to be the same day as his mother's birthday, and a time when all of his family gathered, laughing and celebrating, showering himself and his sister in piles of gifts.
It was the latter that he'd focused on this year, not the presents he would receive but the one that he had gotten his sister. It had taken him months to find the perfect one, scouring the Palace of Thread and Jewels with his mother on a weekly basis.
He'd finally found it a month before, poised on a velvet square in one of the smaller shops, the deep violet glistening like molten starlight hanging delicately on a silver chain. His mother had nodded her approval before purchasing it, claiming that their family would be hard-pressed to purchase something more perfect for Celeste.
Cenric hoped she was right.
He kept the little golden box with its purple bow tucked safely away in his pocket, painstakingly wrapped and kept hidden away from the pile of other presents his father presided over.
He heard his father's voice call out, announcing that it was time to hand out said pile of gifts. Wringing his hands, he blew out a breath and turned on his heel, bounding over and reclaiming his previously abandoned spot next to his sister. Snuggling close, he reached for her hand and pulled it into his own before procuring the box from his pocket and nervously depositing it into her waiting palm.
Better to get it over quickly.
Curiously, she peered up at him through her dark lashes before her lips split into her signature grin, eyes twinkling mischievously. Their family around them had quieted and stopped their gift passing, subtly watching the exchange between brother and sister.
"Happy Solstice, Celeste."
"Happy Solstice, Cenric." Tentatively, she lifted the box, sniffing at it. "Is it a dead lizard?" She shook the box, listening to the contents rattle. "Or a live one?"
He hissed and grabbed her hands to stop her from shaking the delicate piece of jewelry about, annoyance leaching through him.
"It's not a lizard," he grumbled, wrinkling his nose at the insinuation he'd get her such a thing for the holiday. "What kind of brother do you take me for?"
She snorted. "A boring one, apparently."
He barely resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at her.
Celeste," his mother chided gently, even as her lips tilted up at the corners. She knew how much this meant to him, how long he'd spent looking for it. "Open the gift."
"Yes, Mama," she sighed, muttering under her breath, "I still hope it's a lizard," before pulling the ribbon loose. He shifted nervously as she peeled the box open, watching her face as he gauged her reaction—
She sucked in a startled breath, the most surprise Celeste had ever shown, before pulling the pendant out, allowing the stone to dangle loosely between her small fingers. A chorus of approving hums and gasps filled the room.
The tear-shaped stone was the same hue as his sister's eyes, its facets catching the firelight and scattering it across the room in dollops of starfire, the silver setting delicate and intricate. There wasn't another stone like it.
He heard his father whistle before sending a knowing towards his mother who merely shrugged her shoulders and nodded towards her children.
"Well?" Cenric inquired after several moments of silence as Celeste continued to weave the stone between her fingers, fearful he'd selected the wrong thing and that she didn't like it-
"It's perfect." His sister's tone had dropped to a softness he rarely heard, her eyes fixated on the stone before she turned her attention to him and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing tightly. "Thank you, Cenric."
Warmth bubbled inside him as he nodded in response, pulling her close to him. Her happiness was all he had ever cared about. Pushing away, she frantically shoved the necklace into his hand before turning her back toward him and lifting her curtain of midnight hair.
"Put it on?"
He nodded and quickly slipped the chain around her neck, his lithe fingers easily clipping the clasp. Dropping her hair she turned to him and grinned, patting him on the head like some kind of dog.
"Hold on, let me get your gift." Hopping up, she proceeded to pry the cushions free from the couch and began digging, her little hands fumbling.
"Celeste, what in the world are you doing?" Their father laughed from his perch next to the couch, watching as his youngest yanked a box free from its depths.
"Getting Cenric's gift!" Straightening, she revealed a poorly wrapped box taped from top to bottom and covered in glue and glitter. She offered the monstrosity out to Cenric. "Here."
Excitement filled him as he took the package from his sister, thrilled that she had also decided to get him a solstice gift. Smiling, he began peeling the packaging away, curious as to what she had gotten him—
A dark form sprang frantically from the box as he pulled it open, clinging desperately to his face. Screaming in surprise, he flailed as he fell backwards. Terror filled him as he swiped at his face, knocking the little black creature free and sending it flying across the room beneath Elain's feet.
Startled, Elain yelped and pulled her feet up into her chair, narrowly avoiding the fast little devil that raced across the floor and vanished beneath Nesta's dress. His aunt's shout of alarm had the hair on his neck raising.
"I got you a lizard," Celeste offered, sounding thoroughly pleased with herself as she casually watched the chaos unravel in the room around them. Their father howled with laughter as Cassian dove beneath Nesta's skirt in pursuit of the creature, then yelped as it bit him and darted away, Nesta's growl of irritation sounding after. "I'm actually glad you didn't get me one. It would have been weird if we'd gotten each other the same gift."
It was that same shop that Cenric stood in now, casually scanning the jewelry case as he strolled down its length browsing. His father had laughed himself hoarse as Cassian and Azriel had torn through the house trying to find the little star-flecked lizard his sister had caught for him on the banks of the Sidra so many years ago. He'd actually kept the creature once it had been recaptured and dubbed it Othello, despite his sister's protests to name him "Chompers", and had kept it in a little glass terrarium until it escaped some years later.
It had been his favorite Solstice memory.
Cenric ran a gloved finger down the glass, he'd never forgotten the memory of his sister's face when she'd pulled the necklace free, the unusually soft smile as he'd clasped it around her neck. She'd worn it every day since he'd gifted it to her, even on the night of her birthday when they'd lost her.
He let a small sigh escape his lips.
"My Lord?"
Cenric nearly jumped as the shopkeeper Virra emerged from the back room, her moon-white skin nearly glowing as she stepped up to the counter with a small box in her hands. The piece he'd specifically commissioned a few weeks prior.
"Sorry, please forgive my absentmindedness." He rubbed awkwardly at his neck before nodding to the box. "Is it complete, then?"
The shopkeeper smiled, her teeth white like bits of sparkling snow. "It is." Carefully, she set the little velvet box on the counter and pulled it open. "I hope it is to your liking."
Cenric peered down into the box and felt his mouth go dry, the piece that sat inside so perfect he had no words to describe it. He could only hope that she would find it just as appealing. He wasn't certain she had ever owned anything so fine.
And with the nature of the gem . . . imbuing it with the spells he'd crafted would be simple.
"It's perfect, thank you."
Virra smiled before closing the box and offering it out to Cenric who quickly pocketed it, the weight a comfort in his jacket.
"Shall I add this to your family's tab?" she inquired, pulling a ledger from beneath the counter, scrawling notes in a beautiful rolling script. "The Shadowsinger came by earlier this week to pick up a piece for his lovely bride-to-be."
Cenric suppressed a flinch at the thought; he was trying to keep his presence in the city secret. He'd quickly realized after returning with Azriel for his jacket fitting that word of his renouncement of being heir had not reached the citizens of Velaris. They'd remained blissfully ignorant of his departure from the City of Starlight. .
Thanks to that, his interactions had been awkward, only being able to offer half-hearted grunts and acknowledgments of the upcoming holiday to the shopkeepers as they'd asked about his family's celebration.
The one he would not be attending.
He had only ventured to Velaris for a few supplies for the holiday.
Yet standing here in this shop where Azriel had only been a few days before . . . he cursed his own foolishness. He hadn't even considered that his family, namely his mother, might very well be out shopping that very instant.
"Not this time." He procured a satchel of coin from the pocket space he kept things in, having finally given in to using his powers, if only a little. He'd told himself it was only to keep the headaches in check. "I'll be paying in coin."
Virra looked at him in surprise before shrugging. "Very well."
"And Virra?" He awkwardly cleared his throat, trying to keep his tone neutral. "Ah . . . it would be much appreciated if you could keep this transaction . . . private from my family."
The female's brow rose curiously before a soft, knowing look bloomed on her face. A look that said she knew precisely what he was doing and that she found it endearing that the little prince might be courting a female. He tried to keep a scowl from marring his expression.
His . . . relationship . . . with Valka was far from courting.
But he was certain that proclaiming that he had abandoned his family and home would not be well-received.
"Of course, my lord," she chuckled as she handed him the change from the coins he'd given her, "I wouldn't dream of mentioning it. Do tell the lucky female Happy Solstice, however."
Cenric cursed the traitorous blush racing up his cheeks and into his ears as he shoved the money back into the satchel and muttered as he made for the door, "I will, Virra. Happy Solstice to you as well."
(Feyre)
I strolled through the shops of the Rainbow and the Palace of Thread and Jewels eyeing the wares that lined the windows, many pieces crafted specifically for the season. A navy cloak trimmed with fox fur and matching wool mittens, a fleece blanket dyed with the richest crimson shades, and paintings of icy forests basking under moonlit nights.
And with Solstice only days away . . .
On any other year I would have happily picked through them with my son, a tradition we'd started while Celeste had still been in my womb, wandering through the shops hand and hand when he'd barely reached my hip. It'd been the first year that he and I had snuck off alone, my mate absent, and made it a time of bonding between mother and son. An attempt I'd made to assure him that even with his sister's arrival, my heart still belonged to him too.
It had been tradition the week before Solstice ever since . . . except this year.
Rhys brushed a gentle hand across my cheek, startling me from my thoughts. He'd no doubt sensed where they had drifted to. I made no attempt to hide it.
"This is the first time Solstice shopping without him." Likely to be the first Solstice without my son, period. The thought made my stomach clench. "It doesn't feel right, doing this."
Rhys hummed in acknowledgement, his brow slightly furrowed. "I'm surprised he's held out this long, the Steppes are nearly uninhabitable this time of year."
I read the meaning hiding between his words - dangerous.
The Steppes were no place to be when the frost came.
Even so, Cenric had grown tired of his father's pestering and had strengthened his wards so powerfully that even my mate and his brothers, despite their familiarity with the terrain, could not find him.
I felt a tick in my jaw.
"He should be home, not camping somewhere in the Steppes alone in the dead of winter with little game to hunt . . ." It'd driven me nearly to madness when my son had moved camps and was no longer able to be tracked, had worried me so sick that I'd considered scouring every inch of the Steppes myself to find him.
My mate cut me a crooked smirk that almost made me want to slap him as he quipped, "Perhaps his hair has grown long enough the werebeasts have taken him as one of their own. Knowing him, he might be well on his way to becoming their leader—"
"That's not even remotely funny," I snipped back, pulling my sweater closer around my ears to block out the chill wind, though no doubt much warmer than what Cenric was subjecting himself to all because of my foolish mistake. "I should make you go out there and find him and carry him back home."
"I quite like my nose the shape it is, Feyre darling," he shoved his hands in his pockets and turned his gaze on me, sending goosebumps down my spine, "and I assume you feel the same way. So I would suggest that you abandon that order, High Lady."
I sighed in exasperation.
"He'd listen to you better than he'd listen to me . . ." That was, if my son would ever even speak to me again.
"He will." I snapped the shields up around my mind, shoving out the prodding snoop beside me. "He's stubborn, Feyre. He gets that from you, you know." Rhys' eyes twinkled as I glared at him. "Just give him time. He needs to sort things out for himself."
"Easy for you to say when you've seen him in the last eight months and I have not." No, I hadn't seen my son since the beginning of spring at the Rite's end, when he'd thrown his things into a bag and winnowed away.
"He's likely nestled up somewhere in that bed of his that he stole from the guest room, reading." The king-sized monstrosity that had gone missing in the guest wing had left Rhys chuckling months ago when he'd found it. "I wouldn't doubt he found a way to bring a piano along too."
The thought saddened me.
I'd missed the sound of my son's music drifting through the house at all hours of the night, the soft tittering of the keys and the lulling melodies he composed. The grand piano in the foyer was now collecting dust and cobwebs.
"Perhaps you're right," I ran my hand over my frozen face, the wool of my gloves scratching my chilled skin. "Maybe he just needs time and space. Next Solstice will be better, we'll make sure he's home then."
My mate smiled at me, nodding his confirmation.
Cenric was an adult and needed his space and I was by proxy required to give that to him, even if it killed me inside. I wasn't, however, forbidden from tending to him in other ways. Catching sight of one of the larger music shops I quickly darted inside, followed by a chuckling Rhys.
The fresh scent of parchment assaulted my nose as I stepped inside the brightly lit space, the high fae shopkeeper lifting his head from a piece he'd been transcribing to wave his welcome. Maybe I wasn't able to see or speak to Cenric for Solstice, I thought to myself as I fingered through musical piece after piece, but it wouldn't stop me from spoiling him when he returned.
The icy winds tore at Celeste's hood as she strode across the deck of the Loreley, holding tightly to a rope to keep her feet from flying out from beneath her. They'd been on the trail of another set of slaving ships when the storm had blown in out of nowhere, forcing them to slow their pursuit.
The tempest had come on so suddenly and fiercely that they'd barely had time to tighten the lines before they'd been jostled sickeningly across the roiling waves, torrents of hail and rain pounding them.
Lightning crackled overhead as she slid across the deck, gritting her teeth as she forced herself towards where a soaked Gandriel clung to his own rope, his teeth chattering.
"Why haven't you dispelled it yet?" Celeste shouted over the deafening sound of the wind. Gandriel turned towards her, his tawny eyes shadowed, drenched hair plastered to his face beneath his hood.
"I've tried, it won't respond to my magic." He shook his head, sending torrents of water sliding off, and swiped fruitlessly at his eyes. "It's like the winds can't even hear my call. I've never seen anything like it."
"Is it magic?" Had the slavers somehow acquired a storm-wielder stronger than their own?
"No, I don't think so," Gandriel yelled against a fresh gust that pelted them with yet more hail, tugging his cloak closer around himself. "It's like a force of nature, but one that cannot be manipulated. It has a mind of its own."
The thought left Celeste's stomach sour.
Without Gandriel's storm magic . . .
They wouldn't make it much longer if they continued on. But if they didn't . . . another shipment would be lost. Celeste hissed a curse beneath her breath, slipping as a large wave roiled sickeningly under them. Gandriel gripped her forearms, stabilizing her.
They had no choice.
Ithaca still had not returned with news of the large shipment she'd been sent after, seemingly having disappeared without a trace two weeks prior without a word. Knowing the woman she'd likely grown bored of searching and had gone home.
Home, where it was warm and a hot cup of tea waited.
A sour Solstice this was chalking up to be.
Squinting against the sheets of rain and ocean spray, Celeste could barely make out the mast of the Siren bobbing close by, their trek across the waves faring no better. They needed to find land and make anchor, fast.
"Eoin!" she yelled, waving down the young sailor who looked beyond miserable as he attempted to tame the sails. "We have to turn around. Turn back towards the Siren and follow her."
The young man nodded gravely and began barking orders, the crew rushing to man the lines and wheel so they could retreat.
"Gandriel, we have to tell Fallon to turn back." Celeste slung the excess water out of her eyes, eyeing the thrashing waves between the two ships. "You're going to have to winnow us."
The male looked at her suspiciously, eyes narrowing.
"You're certain?"
No, she wasn't certain. The male had only just started being able to control the ability consciously, having practiced popping from ship to ship when they weighed anchor. More often than not he'd plunged himself straight into the depths.
He'd told her he just needed some 'tweaking'.
But in this weather, with no way to signal the other Captain whose ship grew smaller and smaller on the horizon . . .
"We don't really have a choice." Celeste threw out an accusing finger. "But understand, if you dump us in the ocean I will drown you before the waves even get a chance."
The male huffed a laugh, wringing water from his gloves.
"Right, no pressure or anything." Gripping her by the waist, Gandriel exhaled deeply before darkness enveloped them and they went flying through the world, whisking through the storm like shadows before materializing right on the edge of the Siren.
"Shit!" Celeste cursed as she plummeted, her hands barely catching the railing as she slid down its slick length, the waves lapping dangerously beneath her feet. Gandriel had fared no better and appeared right beside her, frantically grasping for a handhold.
She watched his hand slip dangerously and immediately reached out to grab him, using all of her strength to shove him up and over the railing. He landed with a thud.
Groaning, she followed after, sliding down as a wet and miserable puddle next to him.
He looked up at her from beneath his hood, surprise and pride filling his features. "At least I didn't miss."
She couldn't help but smirk, rolling her eyes. "No, you didn't." He was getting better. "Now come on."
Before they could push themselves up, strong hands gripped their shoulders and pulled them upright.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Vaerek barked from beneath his own hood as he straightened Celeste, using his body to keep her balanced as another wave crashed around them, jolting the ship sickeningly. "You're going to get yourselves killed."
"We need to turn the ships around, I can't dispel the storm," Gandriel explained, standing next to a soaked and grave-looking Avi. "We're going to have to find a place to land."
"And where are we supposed to find that?" Vaerek grumbled, bracing his hand against the railing as another strong wave nearly sent them tumbling. "We're almost to the eye, turning back now would just be foolish."
"And once we get there, what then? We'd have to face this all over again to get out of the storm. We're going to drown if we don't pull out," Celeste bit back, turning weary eyes towards her own ship that was slowly crossing the expanse towards the Siren, her men wrangling the sails to keep the ship afloat and her sister safe in her cabin. "If Gandriel can't control it then there's no hope."
Vaerek opened his mouth to argue when Avi cut in.
"They're right." He stepped away from Gandriel, flicking his dripping ponytail over a shoulder. "I'll tell Fallon we need to turn around." The selkie lord sent a stern look toward Celeste and her first mate. "And you two don't need to do any more winnowing, stay here until we hit-"
"LAND! I see land!" The cry came from Fallon, poised high above them in the crow's nest, a magnifying scope pressed to her eye, her purple hat somehow remaining in place even through the violent winds and rain. "The storm's too much, men! Set course for the northeast, we head for that strip right there."
A strip that even Celeste's fae eyes could not make out through the clouds.
Avi snorted in amusement, seemingly unsurprised by his daughter's impeccable timing. Vaerek only shook his head, releasing his grip on Celeste and set off jogging towards the mast, no doubt preparing to switch the sails.
Shivering, Celeste took off after the human, knowing that they'd need every able-bodied person to get through the storm surge that lay ahead.
Valka eyed the blades laid out before her on the cave floor beside the bed, deciding which of her vast array of daggers and swords she would sharpen first. Pulling her whetstone into her lap, she selected the blade farthest on the left and began the sharpening process, forcing her mind to focus on something other than her missing . . . roommate.
Cenric had been acting strange lately, disappearing for long periods of time with no explanation and returning utterly exhausted and drained of magic. So much so that he'd taken to collapsing on the bed beside her without even bothering to switch out of his leathers.
It had left her uneasy.
Perhaps he really was preparing to depart, to return to his home and family.
Where he rightfully belonged.
She changed the angle of the blade, listening to the whisper of metal against damp stone as she sharpened it, ignoring the sinking feeling that budded in her mind. Cenric owed her nothing, and would certainly be better protected surrounded by his noble family of do-gooders.
What use did he have for a used, trapped puppet?
And when he left he'd also be taking the bed . . .
She scoffed at her own bullshit thoughts, reeling in the sense of attachment she'd somehow taken to the male. Bonds were a weakness, a tool that could be used against you at any time, she chastised herself, a tool that you would bend to, to protect those you loved most.
Just like the little prince's sister, how she'd been stolen in the night and murdered, all as a ploy to break the High Lord the Illyrians so thoroughly despised. She'd heard as much from the story that Cenric had recounted to her, the vague details he'd supplied as he'd stared distantly into the fire recounting his terror and guilt regarding her disappearance.
He'd foolishly blamed himself. As though a young boy could have faced off against the monsters that dwelled in those mountains.
The girl had been as good as dead once the warriors had cornered her.
She hadn't had the heart to tell Cenric that. Instead she'd settled for silence while he spoke the story that made even her stone heart quiver. The Shadowsinger should have wiped the entire race out, no mercy for female abusers and child murderers.
No mercy for those who preyed on the innocents to meet their own ends.
Laying down the blade, she debated asking Cenric if he'd consider leaving one or two of the novels he'd allowed her to borrow, having found solace in the elaborate tales that had started keeping her up all hours of the night. Part of her chuckled at finally understanding why her Captain's nose was always buried in one.
Perhaps if she could ever leave this place she'd purchase books of her own, and craft a library full of ridiculous stories that she could indulge in when no one was looking.
Lifting her longsword she had just begun her work when a pop sounded through the cave and the dark shadows immediately lightened. Blinking against the sudden brightness she looked around in surprise at the materialized fae lights and candles that twinkled, the gaudy evergreen garland magically tacked to the walls and the table set for two.
Cenric appeared moments later, breathless, his unruly locks mussed from the gusting winds and dusted with glittering snowflakes. He smiled broadly at her, swiping at his cold-reddened nose.
"Happy Solstice."
"Excuse me?"
She looked in bewilderment at the cheer that surrounded her. Perhaps this was worse than the little lord leaving her. She set aside her blade.
Had the holiday already come so quickly?
Just how long had she been cooped up with the male before her?
"I said, Happy Solstice." He let out a small chuckle as he peeled out of his leathers revealing a clean linen shirt underneath, his muscles rippling beneath the thin fabric. "Come now, you can't tell me you've never celebrated."
Valka blinked her eyes in surprise, once, then twice.
The boy had truly lost his mind.
Something uneasy seemed to settle over him as he sheepishly rubbed at the back of his head, his now shoulder-length hair escaping from his poorly tied ponytail. "Do you not like it? I thought I'd surprise you . . ."
"Is this where you've been? Secretly preparing for a holiday?" she inquired in disbelief, trying for all the world to not burst into laughter at the sight of the lumpy garland and the hideous glass bulbs adorning it, accompanied by an ugly snowman figurine she'd be inclined to use for target practice.
Unbelievable.
A flush that had nothing to do with cold raced up his cheeks as he walked towards her, his magic summoning an array of fruits and meats on the table. "Well, yes. No . . . sort of. It's a bit more complicated than that."
"Lies," she grumbled at him, rising from her seat on the ground to take in the decor. It was beyond gaudy, hideous really . . . but something in her sparked at its sight.
Something she had not felt for a great while.
"Do you like it?" he purred at her, cobalt eyes twinkling playfully. "I picked them all out myself."
"Explains the lack of taste."
He huffed a laugh, unperturbed by her. He'd changed that way, laughing at all of the sharp and pointy edges she displayed for him. It had irked her to no end, yet somehow she now found the behavior . . . endearing. "You're right, maybe I should have let you choose the decorations."
Stupid, she was so stupid for allowing this, so ignorant and blind as she stood and walked towards the table, the smell of food drowning out everything else.
She would pay for her idiocy . . . but for now, well, she certainly wouldn't turn down whatever was laid out on that table the smell of whatever herb Cenric always brought her permeating the air.
"Shut your rambling so we can eat," she huffed, striding towards the table, eyeing the piece of furniture. It was a small thing, but carved of mahogany and inlaid with lovely intricate designs down its sides and legs. He certainly wasn't going for simplicity was he?
She barely contained the eye roll as she slid into her seat, motioning vaguely for him to join. Growing used to his taste for the extravagant had taken a toll on her bullshit meter, even if the bed was a luxury she was secretly reveling in.
Not bothering to wait for him, she began scooping food onto her plate, sniffing tentatively at the different dishes he'd brought, pouring herself a glass of the wine he'd sat on the table. Chuckling again, he joined her, watching her with cool amusement.
"What?" she hissed around a mouthful of bread, unashamedly stuffing herself. There was no sense in wasting perfectly good food. "Can I help you?"
"No," he slid into the seat opposite her, cobalt eyes glimmering in the candlelight, "I'm just glad you like it." He grew contemplative for a second, his gaze softening, before he shoved a hand into his pocket. Valka tensed, pausing her fork as suspicion coated her like a second skin.
Warily she watched him pull a velvet box free before gently passing it to her, refusing to meet her eyes.
Swallowing her mouthful of food she reluctantly took the package, the box alone finer than anything she'd ever had. "Do I want to know what this is?"
"You asked where I've been," he nodded toward it, "it's something I've been working on . . ." That traitorous blush scuttled up his cheeks again. "It's for you. Open it."
Putting her fork aside she carely palmed the box before peeling it open. She nearly dropped it when she saw what was inside.
A black diamond cut like a kite gleamed against the black velvet, the smoky tendrils within its surface seeming to curl and ripple in the candlelight. Its setting was silver, simple, but . . . breathtaking. Heat raced up Valka's cheeks that immediately had her spewing.
"Have you lost your mind?" she hissed, slamming the box closed and nearly throwing it back at him, embarrassment leaching through her. No one had ever purchased her something so fine . . . so feminine.
What use would she ever have for such an item?
How much exactly had the male before her spent on such an object?
And the time he'd supposedly spent on it . . . had he chiseled the damned thing out of a mountain himself?
Her traitorous heart lurched in her chest, her stomach threatening to evacuate all that she had already eaten. To her surprise, Cenric smiled softly before gently pushing the box back into her hands, his palm lingering under hers as he opened the box.
"It's a gift, Valka, for all that you've done for me." The look he gave her was so full of innocence, so full of something that Valka would have described as horrendous and vomit-inducing—
"You are aware I live in a cave, yes?" she asked, even as the quaver in her own voice betrayed her. "Who am I to wear it for? The trolls? This and my birthday suit doing a jig—"
"That would be a sight to see," he laughed, the tone of his voice sending electrical sparks up her spine. She knew that tone, that god-awful lilt that males got when they saw something they fancied.
Cenric gently reached forward and pulled the necklace from the box, holding it up so the light glinted through the smoky gem. A strange pulse of power wound out of it, raising the hair on the back of Valka's neck.
What had he done to it?
"It's more than just a piece of jewelry." He awkwardly ran his free hand through his hair. "I . . . I warded it. So long as you wear it no one will ever be able to find you or track you, if you do not wish it." Those deep cobalt eyes flicked up to hers as she gaped at him. "Even I won't be able to find you if you don't want me to." He cleared his throat awkwardly, breaking her gaze. "I know you don't trust me enough to explain your situation and why you're hiding, but I want you to be safe. You deserve to be free from whatever has you so frightened. And this, I felt like this—"
Something inside Valka cracked at the words, at the thoughtfulness and careful planning. At the kindness the male before her had shown—
Shoving down the voice deep inside that screamed its warnings, she rose on silent feet, slowly moving towards the prince of Night, the necklace loose in her hand.
"Valka, I understand if you don't like . . . It was probably stup-"
She pressed a hand to his chest, silencing him. She took a moment to appreciate the corded muscle beneath her palm, the thunderous beat that rose to meet her. Slowly, she pressed him back into his chair, listening to his breath hitch as she easily slid down into his lap and pressed her lips against his own.