Chapter One

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The Faerie Prince

By Rachel Morgan

First Edition published in 2013

Second Edition published in 2015

Copyright © 2013, 2015 Rachel Morgan

Cover Photography by Regina Wamba

Cover Design by Rachel Morgan

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For more information please contact the author.

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Every night I watch the same window on Draven Avenue. I keep my distance, and I never watch from the same place or at exactly the same time. Creepy, I know, but I have my reasons. I watch that window because I want to be the first one to know if he comes home. I want to see what kind of person he's become since he broke my heart. I want to sense for myself the power he has, and I want to see him use it. And, yes, I want to see him.


Mr. Draven Avenue.

It's not as though I want him back. I mean, the guy handed me over to a prince of the Unseelie Court—I'm not exactly hoping for a happily ever after here. To be honest, I'm not quite sure what I'm hoping for. Maybe I want to look into his eyes and ask him why he did it. Or maybe I just want to kick his ass.

I lean back on the porch swing, relaxing into the swaying motion. The people who live in this house have gone to bed, so there's no one awake to wonder why a swing might move on its own. Across the road and to the right I can see Nate's window. Always in darkness.

A twig snaps somewhere to my left, and I bring the swing to a quick standstill, my heart thumping a little faster than normal. It's nothing more sinister than a cat, though, inching carefully across the grass in its attempt to stalk something. I want to laugh at myself for being so paranoid, but I know I have a good reason for being on edge: Zell might still be after me.

I raise my hand and cover a yawn. I had an assignment earlier this evening, and tomorrow's a normal day of training at the Guild, so I should probably put my obsessiveness aside for the night and get home to bed. I reach for my stylus—and freeze.

I see a light. In Nate's room. Hovering, dancing, fading in and out. In a second I'm on my feet—but the light is gone. I bite my lip. What should I do? I haven't been inside his room since the night he betrayed me. It would be a stupid move given the strong possibility that Zell is magically monitoring Nate's home in case I show up there. On the other hand, Flint did put protective spells around the house, so shouldn't I be safe inside it? But I don't know what kind of spells he used, and who or what they were meant to keep out.

The light flickers again before vanishing once more. I slide my stylus out of my boot and open a doorway to the faerie paths. Home, or Nate's bedroom? I roll my eyes as I step into the darkness. Right, like there was ever a chance I'd just ignore that light.

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