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 at me like 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.
I wanted a handsome prince to whisk me away and save me, but the truth is: I’m a wraith-born bastard who is owned by her father. There is no handsome prince coming to save me. All I have is myself.
But he looks at me, and it’s as if we’re both drawn back into the past.
We both feel it—we both wanted something else too.
A pretty little lie.
“No.” The truth dies in his eyes. “Not Merisel. I never did catch your real name…?”
“I never gave it.”
Keir glances down, his silky lashes hiding his eyes for one small moment before he looks up again. There’s no green in his eyes anymore. Only the dragon staring back at me—because that’s his little secret.
He looks like a fae prince. He acts like a fae prince.
But long ago, when the fae went to war against the dragon kings, rumor says they turned from this world, turned to stone, stepped into the long Unwaking….
Sometimes I wonder if the dragon kings set those rumors themselves, because one of them is right in front of me. Locked into mortal flesh, his eyes blazing as though his fae prison can barely contain him anymore.
“Where have you been?” he demands as his gaze slides down me. “I’ve summoned you a half dozen times.”
Drowning. Repeatedly.
But he doesn’t need to know that.
I shrug, but the shiver that runs through me ruins the effect. “I told you that you weren’t the only one to whom I owed a debt. Sometimes, I’m not at liberty to attend.”
His eyes narrow. “You’re dripping wet. And freezing, by the look of you. Where are you?”
“What? You’ve never taken a bracing swim in a glacial fjord?”
“Not clothed.” Keir bares his teeth. It’s not a smile. “I see how easily you do it now.”
“Do what?”
“Lie,” he growls before he holds his hand up and makes a gesture.
Water sluices down my body. It feels like a warm tingle running over every inch of my skin, and I do mean every inch. A gasp steals from me as puddles of frigid water hit the floor, and then I’m warm and dry and blessed gods, I almost forgot this feeling….
It’s enough to make my eyes water as I stagger.
Warmth. Actual warmth.
I can survive almost anything my father wants to do to me—I will survive—but the sudden shock of such a comfort almost breaks me.
It’s not real.
Somewhere out there, my body is coughing and spluttering as the inevitable finally happens and I’m forced to choke down a lungful of freezing water. But just for a moment I’m safe and warm, and I don’t have to be strong anymore—
I hit my knees, palms slapping against the tiles.
It’s as if my body simply gives out.
Bare feet whisper over the tiles in front of me and then his shadow looms. It’s enough to make me flinch back, but there is no weapon to grab and belatedly I realize Keir’s not attacking me. His hands are still an inch from my arms, the expression on his face arresting.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says softly. Gently.
“You….” I clear my throat. “You caught me by surprise.”
I look up the length of his body.
There’s no longer a golden claw hanging around his throat—my sister, Soraya, stole it and presented it to Father, thinking it was the mythical Dragon’s Heart relic that was going to break our wraithbound curse.
Keir turns his hand over, offering me his fingertips.
And a sardonically arched brow.
My brain
