Shadow Cursed by May Sage Page 0,40

a long-ass day seems like the worst idea since my haircut. Which is saying a lot, given the fact that I lived through a war council session. For one, she could be throwing him into his other daughter's arms. When the time comes, I'd much rather him bleed for us than for Violet.

"Or," I say, before Alven can accept his banishment, "you could offer Mother your oath."

All subjects of the high court have a vague duty to protect our kingdom. We swear to it under the moonlight at each solstice, but the wording of the chants is vague enough to allow for plenty of leeway, as Alven's treachery proved. A direct oath to the queen would allow no such thing. Alven would die should he attempt to weasel out of it.

I've not heard of one fae who gave a formal oath in my entire lifetime. Not to our high queen, not to any of the rulers of the lower courts, and not in the seelie kingdoms. To swear to obey all of the queen's commands till death means giving up one's freedom.

I half expect Alven to decline the offer and be on his way. Instead, he nods stiffly before dropping to one knee.

"I, Alven Oberon, King of the Court of Mist, son of Tenebris, swear my life to you, my daughter, Ciera Bane of House Oberon. I am yours to command, from this day until forever ends. May the stars bear witness."

I don't know whether the stars are paying attention, but I certainly am.

No one else is talking, or moving for that matter.

At least until the ungodly lament of my stomach breaks through the silence. I wince. "In my defense, I haven't eaten in ten years."

Starved

Vlari

I eat as much as I possibly can, so fast I feel sick. I have to force food in, washing it down with wine. When I cannot stand any more, I find room for a custard torte anyway. I’ve never enjoyed food as much as I do on my first night back from the realm of sleep.

Ten years. I can’t even begin to imagine what things might be like for the cursed prince of the wilderness, after a thousand years. With some luck, the poor fool is passed out, or dead.

I lie back on my chaise, too exhausted to even think about dragging myself all the way to my bed—some ten paces away.

Drusk, leaning against the wall in front of me, smiles in a way that's far too mocking for my liking.

"Not a word."

His grin broadens, but he remains silent, staring me down.

Part of me is glad he followed me back to my room. I would have so hated if he'd left. Yet now that he's here, I don't know what to do with him—where to put him. That he belongs in my bed is obvious, but I don't want him in there now. I don't think I could take it.

I know he's my mate, but he has no clue, and I prefer it that way. There's an army surrounding us, we're about to trek through a human-infested kingdom, and then, if we're lucky, we'll be ready for war. The last thing either of us needs is to add complications.

Our situation? It's complicated. Or perhaps, far too simple. Right now, my priority is Tenebris. I want our kingdom to return to what it used to be. I want to be able to walk through the Light Market of Hardrock. I want what's mine. What's ours. And yes, I want Rystan Drusk right next to me as I reclaim all these things, but while he's on my list—high on my list—of concerns, he isn't the main driving force in my life. If he happens to fall tomorrow, it'd hurt, but I'd survive it.

If he and I were to form a mating bond, I don't think any of that would apply anymore. If the stories are true, I'd live and die for him—with him. Neither of us can afford that. And while I was more than happy to indulge a little with him when I first awoke, I think that taking it a step further with him is a dangerous slope. If sex was on the table, he could feel our bond. He could know it. He could recognize me as his.

Part of me warms at the thought. A large part of me. But that's Vlari talking. The girl who had no one to think of but herself. The girl whose only concern was to buy and