The Egregious Affair of a Cold-Hearted King (prequel) (book 1.5)

Chapter Two ~ Discussion

The Crown Prince Azriel was no stranger to death. When he was just a child, he was given heavy responsibilities as Augustus Faundor's only son; he'd not only witnessed death, he was often the one who inflicted it.

He'd never killed an elf, though. Nor a fairy.

A familiar narrative circulated throughout the kingdom, disappearing during wartime and resurfacing when things were peaceful—that of the magical creatures that lurked in the Aldorin forest, the elves were the worst. Yet, young Azriel hadn't ever had the chance to confirm these rumors.

Those who served the royal family were human, mage, and fairy—all bound by contract, by oath, by curse. During the reign of King Bayne (Augustus's father), all other magical beings had been banished from the kingdom for reasons unknown.

Except for the Perri duchy, which was adhesive to the throne. Viktor Perri was the heir to the duchy, and Azriel's best friend.

The young prince's eyes flicked to Viktor, who was dislodging dirt from under his long nails. They'd returned to Azriel's rooms to discuss what had happened in the dungeon, but the prince was having difficulty believing that the beautiful woman was real, and that he hadn't heard of her before.

Viktor glanced at the dying embers in the hearth, then focused on Azriel, who began pacing across rug-covered floors. His footfalls were heavy and purposeful as his eyebrows knotted together.

"I told you," the fairy began carefully, focusing again on his dirty nails, "we shouldn't have gone down there."

Azriel stood still, breathed in deeply, then glared at his friend. "There's a reason she's in our dungeons, is there not? An elf... kept in the darkest corner of the royal dungeons. What kind of crime could she have committed?"

Viktor almost looked as though he was hiding an amused smile, only letting a spark glisten in his black eyes. But instead of giving the answer the prince wanted to hear, he simply shrugged his shoulders.

The prince sat in a velvet chair near the fire, resting his chin on a clenched fist. Then, shaking his head, he turned to his confidant. "You saw how thin she was. Could such a frail creature cause us harm?"

His friend raked a hand through spikey black hair before taking a heavy breath in, then out. His eyes focused on the flickering red flames. "Yes, she could. You know that we don't get along, we fairies and those elves."

Azriel bristled at Viktor's casual mention of his heritage. He looked so... human, that sometimes he forgot the Perri duchy was a house full of shape-shifting fairies that groveled before the throne to keep their freedom. The prince had never seen Viktor in his true form, but he imagined there was a reason they camouflaged themselves as human, for better or for worse.

Despite this, Azriel knew Viktor was speaking the truth. He hadn't ever felt intimidated by the Perri family, who had sworn fealty to the Faundor line. There was no reason to doubt him, not when he was there when the fairy vowed to protect the throne with his life.

Sighing, Azriel leaned into the warmth of his chair. "A cold tea, please," he said.

Viktor clenched his jaw as he stood, but obediently left the room to call for a maid. Azriel stared at his scarred hands, hanging between trousered knees. Years of lashings from improper etiquette remained there. Viktor had fed him dosages of fairy spells in the form of compressed potions called elixirs which had healed him quickly, but the scowl on his father's face lingered in his thoughts and worsened in his nightmares. He'd learned to be the Crown Prince—he'd had no other choice.

Azriel's thoughts traveled back to the dungeon, to that porcelain woman with the simpering gold eyes and blacker-than-midnight hair. Her figure was petite, yet regal and her posture hadn't failed her, though the rooms were probably not the most comfortable. The prince gnawed on his lip as he thought of the woman's calm voice when she addressed him, eyes filled with endless warmth.