Page 13 of Slaying the Shifter Prince
Maybe killing her wasn’t a way of discarding a lover, but an act of rage because she’d refused to become one. Spoilt princes weren’t used to being denied.
I turned my back on Celestine and squared my shoulders.
The prince might have me at his mercy, but he wouldn’t have my answers, and neither would his friend.
7
My heart pounded in time with the swiftclip-clip-clipof my shoes on the cracked marble floor. Celestine led the way in silence—not even her footsteps made a sound.
It was the day after my arrival and I’d slept on a huge settee in her rooms. She’d received a message early this morning and had been tight-lipped ever since.
I wore a cream bodice with sheer skirts and a slit high up the thigh. Gold floral motifs glinted as I moved. My performance clothes weren’t cheap, and I took great pride in designing them myself and working with the best garment-makers I could.
But even I had to admit, this was the most beautiful item I’d ever worn.
That only made my heart beat harder. What had I been so elaborately dressed up for?
She’d even placed a diadem on my head, weaving it into my hair so it looked like its gold leaves had grown there. I touched the pale blue stone on my brow. Its facets were cold and hard but carried no hint of magic.
At last, we reached a huge set of double doors. Green and gold leaves covered their surface sprouting from twisting vines. I wasn’t entirely sure if they were carved or real—some plant that didn’t need soil to grow. In faerie, that might be possible.
We stopped and Celestine turned to me. Her dawn eyes gave me a once-over, and she adjusted my hair. Once she was satisfied with my appearance, she met my gaze and opened her mouth as if to say something, but she only exhaled and closed it again. A muscle in her brow twitched as she nodded, and the doors swept open.
We emerged behind a dais, my view obscured by the back of a gilded throne. But the ceiling arched high overhead, supported by columns as big as tree trunks, telling me how massive this room was—larger than any theatre I’d ever performed in. Fae worked at a completely different scale to humans.
A chill crept down my back and it took a second to realise why.
Beyond the sound of my own pulse was the rustle and heavy quiet of a room full of people waiting. It was a sound I knew well—the one that came right before a performance.
Except this wasn’t one I’d prepared for.
I swallowed and pulled my shoulders back. Whatever the prince had in store for me, I would face.
Celestine led me up the dais and the room opened up before us.
Horns and wings. Skin of scales. Flesh of bark. Antlers and fangs.
These were the denizens of the Court of Monsters.
Morning light spilled through the massive windows that covered the walls to left and right and another cracked glass dome above. It highlighted every inhuman feature, rather than cloaking it in darkness as the theatre had last night.
Just as during my performance, every pair of eyes was on me.
My pulse rose to a dull roar in my ears as I took in these creatures. In the front row stood a huge man with stone-grey skin and backward-sweeping horns. The impressive muscles of his bare chest flexed as he leant forward. Black eyes seared into me.
“And here it is, my new pet.”
My heart leapt, painful, as I sucked in a breath.
I’d been so absorbed in the grotesquely intriguing sight of the assembled court, I’d completely forgotten about their prince.
He unfolded from the throne at my side, towering above me. My form was small and compact, well-muscled from my work, but he was much bigger in all directions. Maybe I hadn’t fully registered last night, so absorbed in my task and the shock of its failure.
But now?
Good gods, he was a giant. Tall and thick with muscle.
He wore another tight-fitting shirt that stood open halfway down his chest. Celestine had said he thought himself the most handsome. Showing off his body, which was admittedly something worthy of showing off, was clearly part of his arrogance.
