FROST

By Ella Lee and Amanda Smith

The King of the human realm waged war on the Fae, taking the young Fae Prince back as his prisoner after slaughtering his family in cold blood. For two and a half decades, Prince Crispin has sat in the dungeons of his mortal enemies' castle. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ella Lee
• Release date: Jan 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9798985850420

Book preview

BOOk One Of the

FrOsted Fae Series

FROST© Copyright <<2023>> E. D. Lee

Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organisations, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning: the unauthorised reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

For more information, email [e-mail]

Library of Congress number: LCN- 2022923737

Dedicated to the girls who were born in chaos, thunder and frost in their bones, fire and fury in their hearts.

Trigger Warning- This book contains graphic and adult material. This book is a DARK FANTASY. There is explicit and sexual content that may be inappropriate for certain ages.

FrOst

BY E. D. lee

As cold as Frost,

As sharp as a Thorn,

As vicious as a Storm.

Prologue

He dragged a blood stained hand across his face as the battle raged on around him. Sweat, blood and mud fused in the creases of his skin, every crevice and corner. The screams of those dying echoed across the muddy field as men laid down their lives fighting for their sides. It had been long coming and now it went on for hours, days, weeks.

Prince Crispin Frost was tired of the bloodshed, of his people dying around him. It was his fourth day of nothing but battle, no rest or food. He occasionally took small sips from a skein full of water, passed around for the aching fighters.

The war raged on for a little over a year, Oberon’s forces sweeping down the continent like a vicious plaque that left no survivors.

They’d come from nowhere, appearing like fresh dew on grass in the early hours of the morning. Thousands of men in black and gold armour that began ransacking the realm from the Snow Spiral down.

It had taken them almost a full year before reaching Frost Palace.

His home.

The screams from the village were heard first, echoing down the pebbled path and through the open concept of the palace. There were warnings from the other seats of power in the realms, letters filled with cries for help from the Fae King.

Who ignored them all until the battle found them.

And now they were about to breach the castle.

His father, King of the Fae, had heard it first, racing to the large window with concern and promptly yelling for his armour as he stormed away. He didn’t tell his white haired son what he saw, Crispin making his way over on hurried footsteps as he looked out the window to find the source of the terrible sound below.

He’d soon join his father and King on the battlefield, reaching the front vanguard before his father did, commanding his elder to stay back. If the King fell, then the people would lose hope.

The King had been forced back into the palace with his wife and dying daughter in law, watching from above as his youngest son fought in his place. It had been, what felt like, nonstop battle and Crispin’s arms ached from the gruelling combat that seemed to never cease.

And then there was a flash of light, a portal coming to life in front of him. The slowly growing blue light shimmered around the blurred edges, creating a tunnel to another realm.

To Gaerith.

It was almost an instantaneous stop to the fighting as figures began to appear in the magical azure fizz that rounded.

How the hell? The Prince gasped out as he watched the magic sizzle to life. The only known way to travel between worlds was a creation of his mother’s, working hard to find pocket sized portal gems that would hold enough power to transport more than one person at a time.

Crispin heard the creaking palace doors open behind him, a long pearl walkway leading from it to where he stood now. The castle protruded from the glorious snow capped mountains like a bright ember of hope.

Bodies lay in heaps around him as his parents rushed out to his side. Queen Cinda gripped his gauntlet-clad hand, a snowflake burned into the metal for all to know who fought alongside them as they battled the humans back.

The young Prince saw the Fae King stride past him in freshly made armour, silver and shiny from being unused. His father hadn’t seen battle in many years and had it not been for the shortage and unpreparedness of the Fae males, he wouldn’t have needed to even don the intricate amour.

Including the eldest Prince.

One who had left in a rush, a little over a year ago.

One who hadn’t been seen since.

The King patted his youngest son on the shoulder before walking past and halting before the portal as a face came into view. Black hair and dark, hazy, green eyes climbed from the darkness as the mortal King came forward. Crispin stepped forward to take his father’s place once more but his mother held him back.

His father pulled out a long sword, the metal forged in melted snow with a deep swirling steel. It looked like a frozen river, carved from mountains in the midst of winter.

Hoarfrost was its name, called for after the long and cold season that brought about the birth of Crispin’s older brother, Christipher. Gifted to him by their mighty and fierce general, Fenrir Thorn.

It remained at the King’s side at all moments, still clean from days of rest and not war. With a roar of fury and power, the King of the Fae raced forward to greet the portal and who stepped out of it. He missed by an inch and jumped back.

Oberon’s hand wrapped around his own sword, gilded from head to toe. The obscene blade met the opposing Fae’s with a clang. The King’s ivory hair lay flat against his back with a circlet upon his head. The gem in the middle gleamed as he brought his sword upon the human King’s.

Silver fought gold on a battlefield of blood and snow, Fae against Human.

King against King.

Oberon feinted to the right, letting the mighty frostbitten sword fall to the ground and causing the Fae to stumble. The King of humans chuckled in a raspy voice before blocking a hard swing. It nearly caused his own sword, the monstrous gold blade, to fall from his grip.

Cinda gasped in near cheer, causing her husband to turn to look at her. Her eyes were wide as the golden armoured man stepped closer, raising his sword up. Her husband was too late to turn around, too late to save himself.

Let this be your downfall. Know you have failed. Oberon snarled and brought his large weapon down in a single motion. Cinda’s cry echoed of torment and agony through the lands as her husband’s head was severed from his neck in a single chop. The body remained upright for a moment, until shining blood leaked from the King’s decapitated neck.

The circlet rolled with a few metallic clinks against the stone path until it hit the feet of Oberon.

The black haired man bent down and picked it up, admiring the pearl gem that remained in the center, wrapped with snowy leaves.

Crispin nearly collapsed to his knees as his father’s body went down. It crumpled within a few seconds as the head rolled. White locks that matched his own, stained with the metallic blood of the Fae. It stopped as his father’s dead eyes met his youngest son.

The black rimmed eyes of his father stared up at him, open. It was a horrific sight to behold and as Oberon sheathed his sword, Crispin rose to face his father’s murderer. The King grabbed a fistfull of the Fae King’s hair and hoisted it up high for all to see.

THIS IS WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO FAE. THIS IS YOUR FATE! He yelled over the crowds which had ceased fighting the moment the mortal King had walked through the magic portal.

The young snow Prince let out a horrified, cracked noise at his father, one that had been cold and unkind and yet the only one he’d ever had. Powder flurried from his hands, his back, his mouth as he let his ripe fury take over. Sleet came forward with each of his motions, his steps, his prowl. Upright icicles grew in rapid speeds from the white bridge, jagged and cruel and sharp as they pointed upward. They created a railing of shivering crystals, an image that would not long leave Oberon’s head as the Prince charged.

He raised his own sword up and Oberon maliciously grinned at him as he tossed the head off the walkway. It tumbled down the deep cavern and landed in the darkness, forgotten. It struck a chord of fury in him, one that he knew too well from his sibling.

He noticed the collapse of his dark haired mother, but unlike his father he didn’t turn to her. He’d learned from his father’s mistakes. Crispin focused his burning eyes on the murderous, power hungry man in front of him. A pendant of shimmering stone swung around his neck as he came forward, ready to meet the young Prince.

CRISP! A rasping voice called for him, feet slapping on the stone walkway as Corvina came running out. The King spoke too softly to one of his men for Crispin’s Fae hearing to understand.

The Prince felt her hand on his arm before he looked to his side. To see his wife and soulmate standing there in nothing but a cobalt slip, feet bare and chestnut hair unbound as her eyes shone with worry. Her skin was pale, sickness and poison overtaking her after she’d collapsed from a fit only moments prior to her arrival upon the bridge. It must have taken everything within her to make it out here, to stand by his side.

Illness swept over her with ease, taking her down on days where it should have bypassed her completely. First the pneumonia, and now the iron that was killing her slowly from the inside.

Corv, go back inside. He said with the voice of a King. Her wedding band sparkled in the daylight, white gem made of pure ice diamond. The matching one sat upon his finger, never leaving the pale snow kissed flesh of the frosted Fae.

No. Not without you. She whispered and fixed her mossy eyes on the King. He’d pulled out a crossbow, bigger than any Crisp had seen before.

Corvina, that’s an order. His voice became frantic as he pushed her behind him, shielding her with his armoured body.

"I said no. Corvina stated firmly, hand still gripping his arms tight. Oberon raised the crossbow and Crispin prepared to move. The King stepped closer and closer in unhurried steps.What will he do, kill me?" She laughed and it turned into a wheezing, horrible sound that crushed his heart in a firm grip.

Surrender and I’ll let you live. Both of you. He didn’t lower the crossbow, pointed directly at the Prince’s heart.

His lover still stayed behind him.

Crispin didn’t back down.

The last thing that his father would ever want was for his son to give in and surrender. So he stood firm, head raised high like the Prince he was. He would not back down.

No. He felt the tremor go through Corvina, the way he knew she’d go down with him. At least in the next life they’d find each other once more.

Foolish Prince. Can’t you see that you’ve lost? Your people lay dead and dying around you. There is nothing left for you now. Blood of red for the humans and silver for the Fae dropped off the weapons all around him, running in rivers through the damp soil.

The King was right, they had nothing left. Nothing except a brother far away that could one day reclaim Daaerin. One that would take back the realm and kill Oberon.

I would rather die than be your slave. Crispin spat, watching the wet spray until it nearly reached the mortal’s metal booted feet before making eye contact once again. The King’s lips slowly twisted into a grin that sent his bones shaking. Crispin had never seen a man so desperate for power, for money, for enchantment.

Oberon raised his massive crossbow once again, the gaping mouth of a gilded lion meeting his eyes as the King pressed the trigger, a bolt flying out from the roaring beast.

Very well then, allow me to grant you death.

One

Asudden clunking noise woke him up, frigid metal tapping against the thin bars of his caged cell as sleep eluded him. The white haired male groaned and pressed a pale hand to his head, drowsiness finally beginning to leave him as he awoke.

Silver shimmered through his pale skin as he came to consciousness. One glance at the beautiful male, and anyone with half a brain could tell that he was most definitely not human.

Do you have to do that? He grumbled and ran a hand through his long colourless locks, dirt crusting the ends like a layer of oil. The hair lay flat against his long face, pointed ears peeking out from the straight lengths. It reached down to the middle of his back, stopping as the ends broke and the silkiness faded over the years.

A filthy shirt was plastered to his chest, the original colour barely recognizable behind the levels of dirt and grime. He wore no shoes, feet bare and crossed behind himself with pale wrists wrapped in stone chains.

Wake up, Frost. The brown haired guard muttered, knocking something hard against the bars. Ice coated the cell from the shivering temperatures that seemed to drop every day. Not that the Fae in the cell minded it, exactly the opposite in fact. He loved the cold and snow, the winter winds that warped the trees and lands around.

My name, He bit out, Is Crispin.

The binds against his wrists rattled as he sat up fully, leaning against the dungeon wall, his shockingly icy blue eyes opened fully. Something dark and deep sparkled as he stared back, the two guards holding their swords out as he stood up fully.

Garrett, the one to the right, had been the one to bang on the bars, his sword beaten from the abuse that the bars rang down on it. They’d never needed to use the weapons against the frosted male in the twenty four years he’d been imprisoned, but something about the Fae made them jumpy. He’d been the first and only Fae they’d ever seen in their lifetime.

"Whatever, Frost." The nickname gained from the silvery tone of his hair, the grey sheen to his eyes, and not to mention the way that snow and ice and wind used to come at his beck and call. Every Fae Prince of his realm carried some gene that allowed them to summon elements, control them and command them. Crispin was gifted with the ability to call for winter and its elements.

Hence the nickname ‘Frost’.

However he assumed after the war, he’d been the only one left alive. There had been three different families, only two with royal heirs including his. Of course he hadn’t been back to the Fae realm in a quarter of a century, so what did he know?

Here’s breakfast. A tray slid under the bottom of the cell door that contained a few pieces of bread, a peeled banana and a cup of water. Nothing that could be used to break out of his binds and escape.

Crispin eyed it but began consuming the meager meal. There was no way for him to keep his body shape, not with the close walls of the cell and the slim foods they handed to him twice a day that were only meant to keep him alive.

The shackles held him there, bound to the human realm with no powers and no way to escape. They were long enough that he could roam wherever he wanted in the perfect square chamber and sleep in whatever position on the dingy mattress in the corner.

Hay stuck out from odds and ends, poking him in the back often at night. To the left from the bed lay a bucket for all his needs. Every few days a servant would come in and empty it, clothespin tightly clasped on their nose as guards pointing their gold hilted swords at him until the servant came back with a fresh one.

The King of Gaerith captured him through a portal, twenty and four years ago after a war between the two worlds. The humans yearned for the beauty and power of the Fae world, seeking the extra measures that belonged to another race.

After the King found the spellbook, and opened a portal to the Fae world of Daaerin, he’d slaughtered most, if not all of the Fae. It was a bloodbath from the start and one that his people had been utterly unprepared for. The genocide of a race that had done nothing to harm the humans.

Fae were physically stronger than the humans but the shock of it all was enough it seemed. How the King managed to rally such numbers to his side was also unknown. The legacy of a culture, the erasure of the immortal, all gone with a few well placed strikes of the King’s sword.

No one knew exactly how the mortal King managed to overpower the Fae King, but there was no use pondering over it now.

Crispin lived through a few wars, but none as devastating as this one. It had wreaked havoc on his world, killed his loved ones and dear friends, destroying everything he had ever known.

His wife included.

Corvina stood by his side as King Oberon threatened him, a large crossbow pointed to his chest. The entire thing had been ridiculously gilded with carved beasts into the side and front.

But then the King pressed down on the trigger, finger releasing the bolt from its designated spot in the middle. The matching gold tip sailed at increasing speeds towards him and he froze.

His wife had thrown her arm across his chest and pushed him behind her, taking the bolt for him. It flew directly into her chest, in a fatal blow. She’d sunk back into him as his horror filled eyes widened, gasping for air as she went down. Blood coated her light blue dress as she fell, grasping at him.

Corvina! He stroked her face, pushing her brown hair out of her face as her green eyes fluttered, The dark liquid soaked through her wool clothes and he held her until the end. The glowing band around her left hand had been splattered with blood, dimming the white gem that promised love and eternity. He’d refused the one his mother had offered up, stubbornly wanting to create one for her himself. Now the once symbol of love, made his insides turn out as the scarlet thick liquid of her life covered it.

The matching silver band around his fourth finger still remained, even to this day. Crispin fiddled with it constantly, a reminder of the devastating loss that had occurred. He twisted it round and round his finger when he contemplated his life and everything that came before. Thought over each detail in painful clarity before the silver tears of sadness took over and everything became blurry as his heart ached.

The damned Fae War.

A time of hopelessness and despair that led to the brutal end to most of the Fae. Crispin was lucky to be alive but everyone he ever knew and loved had been erased from time, leaving him alone in the world. His mother, his father, his wife and his brother.

Garrett’s delightful words interrupted his thoughts as he idly twiddled the ring for the thousandth time.

Snow bitch! You’ll have a new guard today. The snow Fae looked up at his two usual guards, Garrett and Code. The chestnut haired older one seemed to glow with pride at the fact that he’d no longer have to watch the wretched Fae Prince. Like it was a chore to sit and play cards, a wary glance at the snowy male every few rounds.

There was a square, wooden table in the corner by the stairs where they played. Two chairs adjoined it and there was a worn pack of cards on the table from years of fingers running over them. Code often suffered from a few rounds of poker, coins being bounced upon the dented wooden surface in exchange.

Getting tired of me already? Crispin taunted, the guard rolling his dull, lifeless eyes at the air of cockiness the male still held. Even after all this time, Crispin never got bored making fun of them and seeing just how far he could push them.

It was his only entertainment.

As if. I could never get bored of you, Frost. Garrett snickered.

Crispin tucked his long fingers into his palm, digging down deep into the skin. The uncut nails dug deep until a silvery liquid dripped from his skin, plinking against the filthy floor. They’d chip off every so often, leaving jagged pieces in their stead.

His skin held an ethereal glow, blue and red veins showing through pastel skin. The never ending nicknames did set his blood on fire, annoyance flickering in his azure eyes.

"I’m getting promoted. Apparently Oberon wanted to change up your scenery. Bout fuckin time too. But don’t worry, she’s not as pretty as me." Code grinned and ran a filthy hand down his bearded face.

A long, grey eyebrow raised at the gender. In all his time here, all twenty and so years, he’d never seen a single female down here, other than the Princess and her timid doe eyes.

Princess Evolet Storm, first and only daughter of Oberon. She had short black hair like her father and brown eyes like her mother who had passed away giving birth to her. Her brother, however, bore black hair and green eyes like his father.

Prince Cierian was never seen around the castle though. Most of the courtiers wondered if he even existed. He was the eldest of the two of them and sole inheritor to the throne. It was said he left around the age of sixteen, after something horrible occurred with his father.

Anyone is prettier than you. Garrett snorted at his companion. It earned him a hard punch to the left shoulder, even if it was playful. These two seemed to be the only guards of late that were ever down here, let alone out of anyone.

There had been a few times that Cierian had wandered down to the cells to see the legendary frosted Fae. He’d snuck out of his lavish bed as a young lad to see the war prisoner, peering out with the curious green eyes. The Prince reminded him of his own brother, similarities in the way they looked.

Crispin had one sibling, an older brother.

But his brother hadn’t been seen since before the war, a perfect combination of his two parents. Christipher bore black hair and icy grey eyes, silver with streaks of light blue. Black ringed his eyes like a circle of darkness.

His sibling left just before the war, travelling to places unknown all over in the rough seas. There was a possibility that he was still alive but there had been no word from him, even if he hadn’t gotten any letters. However he assumed there would have been rumours if another Fae Prince was spotted making their way home.

But there was a chance that Crispin wouldn’t recognize him anyways, the male had been out of his life after the age of twenty and five.

Aurora Thorn. Little whelp nearly beat me black and blue last time we sparred. Wish I could make her bruised all over but she’s too quick. Code grumbled and rubbed at the pointed helmet that sat upon his head. A tall spike rose from the nose bridge until the tapered point of the metal hat, jutting outward.

A female? Crispin’s soft, smooth voice bounced over the metal interior as he leaned against the wall. The oak haired guard shuffled through his hand of thin cards, grinning at the hand he’d been dealt. A pile already lay upon the rough, square table’s surface, face down.

Yeah, but don’t get any ideas. Commander Thorn is a tough one. I’ve heard stories of her in training. She’s run into a blazing fire before with no protection.

The heritage of the surname flashed through him, unaware of the reasons why. Crispin floated his periwinkle eyes to Garrett and watched as the man shuddered.

"Yeah put yourself in the ring, I quit after a few rounds of training. Rory’s hard on anyone who can’t handle her." Code slapped two cards down, the sound dull in the stone chamber.

Garrett snorted and rolled his eyes. Real legend. I’ve heard of her combat skills and battle strategy during her years.

A woman of pure talent then.

With everything they’d been speaking of, she had to be at least fifty to have gained so much experience.

Where was she during the Fae Wars?

She sure loves to show off in the skills yard, especially with Commander Sterling. Code huffed. Crispin raised a dark grey coloured eyebrow at the name.

It’s hilarious watching those two go at it time and time again. Like fuckin children. Garrett chimed in. A few cards drifted to the table as they restarted again.

I wouldn’t want to get into the sparring ring with her more often than I already do. She puts Sterling on his ass too many times for my liking, and he’s better than we are. His hand rested on his gold hilted sword. Every soldier had one, at least all the guards Crispin had seen had one.

He puts her on her’s too. Feel bad about beating up a little girl? A wide tooth grin cracked along his face, a few teeth were missing towards the back. Age tugged at the corners of his eyes and at the edges of his lips.

When does she get in? Garrett nodded towards the frosted Fae, held by the steel cell for over two decades now. Code pulled the small metal chain from his pocket, a covered watch swinging from the end. He quickly flipped it open to rest in his palm, glancing at the time displayed on the face.

She should be here any moment now.

Two

Footsteps made their way down the granite steps to the dungeons, unhurried and unbothered. A feminine shape pushed past the two guards as it sauntered forward, the colours of black and gold pressed into the deep coat. A vivid teal cape swung from one shoulder down as the woman approached the cell.

Crispin looked the female up and down slowly as he beheld his new captor. As far as she went, she was much prettier than the two idiots who had him currently under their gaze.

Extremely attractive for a mere human.

Something in her glowing eyes made Crispin look deeper, further into her. He tilted his head as he inhaled the cinnamon and clove and apple scent of her, pushing past it to the thing that hid behind it all.

Commander Thorn. Code respectfully dipped his head slightly as the female halted her steps. Her observative gaze swept over the entire area before sliding back to the two men in front of her.

Code. Garrett. She addressed each man and swung her head to look at each of them as she spoke their names. A disapproving look flashed through her sharp features at the game of cards that were currently splayed out. The men had hastily scrambled out of the chairs and dropped the cards as she came down the stairs, as if they shouldn’t have been doing anything other than watching the Fae.

Are you alone in your guard or am I to suffer another new guard? The Prince of snow and frost questioned from his place in the cage. Aurora’s cool storm gaze fell upon the captured face before her, chained and sitting with his legs crossed on the floor. Her expression didn’t change from the cold mask that she wore.

Just me for now. Her eyes bore into him, a deeper grey than his. She took in the dirty male and the way he held himself, still proudly and with an air of cockiness that someone in his place should have lost a long time ago.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as her eyes narrowed until her features became practically feline.

How lucky I am. He purred, tugging a hand though his filthy locks. They squirmed under his fingers, tangled and beaten. A few strands broke off in his palm, and drifted to the floor as he overturned his hand.

She was definitely prettier than Code.

But there was a hollowed out look in her expression, one of distrust and bitterness that reminded him so much of his brother, one that made him pause as he took her in fully.

I wouldn’t call it luck. Garrett muttered and Aurora shut him up with a razored look. He straightened his back and his hand tightened on his golden sword at his side.

You look young to be a commander. Crispin noted. She most definitely wasn’t fifty. The woman before him looked no older than twenty and five, if he had to guess.

He let his back sink against the dungeon wall, savouring the cold feel of the stone as it dug in deeper. The shirt he wore was thin to begin with, but it was practically a tissue now. There were strands that clung to the unwoven hem, dragging along.

Don’t worry, I’ve received my training. Her voice cut across the dungeons like the edge of a freshly sharpened blade.

Rory tried to keep her patience as the men left her alone in the dungeons. This was the last place she wanted to be.

"So, it’s just you for now?" The lilt of his voice made her already aggravated at his curious, probing questions. Code nodded to his replacement and headed up the thin stairs, Garrett at his back with one last glance to the Fae.

For now. Her answer was swift and short.

Do you care to explain? Crispin pushed, trying to get more information out of her.

Do you ever shut up? Aurora shot back, her back facing him as she took up her new post. There was a wooden chair in the corner by the stairs that faced the cell, a small table with rickety legs next to it. The second matching chair was knocked over, as they had quickly jumped out of them upon her arrival.

She scoffed at it.

I’ve been in here for eternity, surely you don’t expect me to go quiet for all of it? A male needs friends, after all. He mused, mirth glinting in his surprisingly bright eyes.

The male had a mouth, that was for sure. She had been warned about his mannerisms, charming or annoying depending on whom you spoke to.

I’m not here to be your friend. Her gaze flitted to the worn deck of cards that had been sprawled on top of the table, a flush on one side. Clearly Garrett and Code had gotten bored with their duties often, finding other ways to keep it interesting.

Clearly. You know that I’m the one with the ice powers, and yet you’re colder than I am. How does one get to that level of blistering arctic-ness? He enunciated the last phrase, drawing it out longer than necessary. The chains around his wrists clinked as he gestured to them, trying to get her to turn around.

She didn’t answer his question however so he tried again.

I am the expert in chilly things after all. He raised an eyebrow as she looked at him, no amount of interest or playfulness spotted.

Fascinating. Aurora grumbled, nudging the black hilted sword at her waist. A black belt held it there, a golden buckle stuck through a hole to keep it wrapped around her thin frame.

Do you know how to use that thing? Crispin examined the blade, clearly noticing the difference between it and the others.

I assure you, I can. Mouth off some more and you’ll see. Commander Thorn sighed, this was a bit more infuriating than she had expected but she was not going to tell the King that she already was pissed.

He’d been the one to send her down after all, after their meeting had not gone according to his plans.

It hadn’t exactly been her choice to be stationed here.

Three

Oberon had taken one look at her from above the training pits, watching from his personal balcony and desire had flooded through him. He’d never come out to see training and overlook his soldiers after the victory of the Fae war.

But there were rumours of a female guard surpassing all of his best men, and he suddenly felt an interest to watch. After a few months of observing her work through her drilled motions, fighting with other recruits, and learning all the skills, he summoned her to his personal chambers.

He remembered her vividly after her recent promotion to commander, a hero who rushed into a burning building to save three children, along with the other soldier, Sterling.

But as he looked at her from above the veranda, something else began to stir within him.

There had been sultry looks in her direction when the woman looked up to see him observing the yard. The new commander always seemed flushed every time his attention landed on her, always dipping her head in his direction and bowing in the halls when he passed by.

Oberon smiled and poured himself a glass of wine as he waited for Aurora Thorn.

The attention of a King was a good thing.

Rory kept telling herself that.

She’d straightened her newly minted commander’s uniform and rapped her knuckles on the massive, gilded door. He opened it a second later, dressed in his bathing robe with an overly filled glass of wine in his hand. The look he gave her was slow and drawn out, oily and lustful. A wave of bitter ice slank down her spine as she realised what this visit was actually for.

My King. Rory sunk into a bow, not a curtsy. As a member of his army, she didn’t succumb herself to the half wilted movements the ladies of the court did for attention. No, a bow felt more regal and respectful. And no one had deemed to stop her or complain. Her hand pulled tight into her waist as she sank down, head dipped low until she felt the thick fingers on her chin. The King pulled her out of the bow and met his smile once more.

Aurora. He beamed, ushering her in as a few drops spilled out of the rim. The violet liquid splashed on the