Page 21 of The Ruthless Fae King
My face went slack. “What? Hey, I was joking. I’ve never touched him.”
Lucien shrugged. “Watch your back, Windstrong,” he taunted, and then spun, slipping into the carriage.
“Retaliation for a simple joke isnotvery gentlemanly,” I reminded him as I popped into the carriage and took a seat next to Piper.
He gazed back at me with a devastatingly handsome glare. “I never claimed to be a gentleman.”
Oh Hades, what have I gotten myself into?
FIVE
As our carriage pulled through the Summer Court gates, the king and I peered out the window and waved as we passed by. People looked surprised to see us, which meant that Prince Haze hadn’t told them of our arrival and never expected us to actually come inside.
My memories of Marcelle were few and far between but he wasn’t a stupid man. Did he really think the winter king would just leave without a fuss?
No. He’d expected Lucien to bring a storm of snow and probably drench the town in coldness, further adding votes to his cause.
“Marcelle wanted you to lose your temper,” I said.
“Yes,” Lucien agreed. “And I would have gladly given him the storm he desired had you not stopped me.”
“Covering Summer Court in frost would have added votes to the separation,” I added, and Lucien sat quietly with that. Sticking my head out the window, I waved to some small children.
A little girl with flowers ran alongside the carriage and looked up at me. “It’s Princess Madelynn! Make the wind come!” she yelled.
Children often begged royalty for displays of power, and this time I decided to oblige her. Pulling on a fraction of my power, I called the wind past her, causing her little blond curls to fly about her face. She squealed in delight and suddenly there was a coldness in the air as snowflakes fell into my wind, causing a mild flurry.
The little girl laughed even louder, throwing her arms into the air as the snow whipped around her. “It’s snowing!” she squealed to the shop owners as they came out of their stores to see what the fuss was about.
I glanced at Lucien to find that he was watching me. I wasn’t sure exactly how to interpret his gaze, but it looked a lot like how my father gazed at my mother when she did something especially adorable. As a royal of Fall Court, I had very little contact with men, so I wasn’t sure how to read Lucien’s advances. In my school days, I had managed to sneak behind the library a few times and kiss Dayne Hall, my boyfriend at the time, but I was a young teenager then. Now I was a woman… and this felt different.
One by one, the shop owners began to glare at the passing carriage, and I stopped my wind power. Lucien did the same, ceasing the light snow he had conjured.
“The little girl liked it,” I told him, trying to find the lightness in the situation.
Lucien nodded.
The shops gave way to empty fields, and then we came upon a cemetery. I’d been to Summer Court as a little girl and then again at Midsummer Festival when I was thirteen, right before the Great Freeze. I didn’t remember the cemetery being here but—
I sucked in a breath when I read the sign.
Lost to the Ice But Never Forgotten.Next to it was the year of the Freeze. The one Lucien caused to encompass the entire realm.
I looked at Lucien, praying he didn’t see it, but he was staring at the small granite stones with such a profound sadness I wanted to cry. His chest silently heaved as his eyes darted around the graveyard and his face went slack.
He’s counting them, I thought.Counting the people he killed.
“Stay here,” Lucien barked, his voice cracking. Then he leapt out of the moving carriage. It screeched to a halt, kicking up dust as Piper and I shared a concerned look.
“What’s he doing?” Piper asked.
I shrugged, leaning forward to peer out the curtain. As the dust settled, I saw Lucien’s tall form passing by the gravestones. As he approached each one, he pulled out his hand and touched the top of the stone, mumbling something under his breath.
“Is he making peace?” Piper murmured.
A tear lined my eye and I nodded. “I think so.”
When he reached the last stone, he knelt because it was a small one. A child—no, a baby. When he touched this stone, an icicle formed in his palm and took the shape of a rose, which he laid at the base of the rock slab.
