Page 76 of The Hidden Fae Prince
Even if the thought appeals—writing desire into Seren’s skin with glittering bruises.
Urgency burns, impossible to plan for. Seren has proven himself more than just a prince to be protected. He called enough Summer magic to give Midnight pause—after Nevander couldn’t stand against Midnight and a single augray.
Pain still twists through Nevander’s gut, but his mind falls blissfully blank, soothed by the elixir of Seren’s kiss. Pure instinct and emotion. Everything Nevander keptshamefully hidden. His desires don’t feel so shameful when reflected in Seren’s shining eyes.
A faint moan weakens Nevander’s knees. “Your Highness,” Nevander says, with deepest reverence. “Seren.”
Seren breaks away, grasping Nevander’s face. His eyes are golden mirrors, brilliant with hunger. “You’re beautiful.”
He doesn’t mean Nevander’s face.
Nevander takes a shuddering breath. He forged himself into a blade for a duty he could never fulfill, edges sharpened by control. He understood his own emotions so he could set them aside. Guarding against the weakness of an open heart.
But he’s bared himself for Seren, and Seren’s rapture is a gift in return. Nevander has never felt so seen. So adored. He’s still afraid. Still furious with Midnight—for threatening Seren—and himself—for not preventing it.
Seren doesn’t buckle beneath Nevander’s fear. He lessens it.
Nevander brushes Seren’s hair back. He can’t lose his mind entirely. “We shouldn’t do this here.”
Seren leans in. “What are we doing?”
“Whatever you…” Nevander trails off as Seren licks his lips. No empathy magic needed to read his desires. “Maybe a little less than you want. The healing elixir’s notthateffective.”
Seren laughs, surprised, then concerned. “Gods, this is… I’m not thinking clearly. You’re hurt.”
“Am I influencing you?” Nevander asks, struggling to shield again.
Worry chills his desires. Seren’s empathy is so strong. He could be manipulated by Nevander’s craving.
“You’re not,” Seren starts. “Not like that, anyway. I may be acting more forward since I know you don’t hate this.” He traces Nevander’s jaw. Then he yanks away, flushed pink. “We should get you to a healer. Can you return us to the palace?”
Technically, yes. “I’d rather rest here,” Nevander says, and he has reasons prepared. He doesn’t want to return at half-strength to the palace outskirts, causing a stir, inviting challenges. Seren too is worn thin. He shouldn’t have reached for Summer magic without the crown’s protection. Very good reasons besides Nevander’s selfishness. “Let me show you our treehouse.”
Seren’s lips twitch. He doesn’t tug at Nevander’s excuses. “Please,” he says, and the word encompasses everything.
Dazed, Nevander touches the tree’s coarse trunk. “Well met, dear friend of light and loam. Reveal to me our secret home.”
Recognition ripples through the tree. Groaning and grumbling, sections of the trunk stretch outward. Rough steps spiral into the boughs.
Seren gasps, entranced.
“Thank you,” Nevander says, entranced in turn by Seren’s face. He gestures—tempted to a more elaborate bow, but not with this gut wound. Seren makes Nevander want to be a little ridiculous. “After you, Your Highness.”
“You have to follow me this time,” Seren says sternly, but mounts the stairs without waiting for agreement.
That’s something they’ll need to discuss. Among a thousand other things. Nevander can’t and won’t apologize for defending Seren, even if that means putting himself inharm’s way. That’s both his duty and his joy. And it’s Seren’s duty to permit Nevander’s service—or reject him entirely.
If Seren intends to wear the Summer Crown, despite the hidden blades and bared teeth arrayed against him.
A conversation for another time. Now, Nevander ascends the great tree’s spiraling stairs. Slower than usual. Seren’s steps grow more tentative as the ground falls away. But they never stop.
Nevander, Yarrow, and Valerian used to race up the stairs, shoving each other off. Nevander and Valerian could catch themselves in flight, and Yarrow would catch himself on a lower step, or land on his feet, laughing in the thunderclap.
That was later, though. At first, they climbed like this. Wondering. New. Nevander has to force his eyes from Seren to keep an eye on the clearing below.
No sign of danger. Spiritwood settles. The augray’s corpse and Nevander’s blood are the only signs of conflict.
Thirty feet from the ground, they reach a wide fork and a wooden platform. A trapdoor creaks open.
