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  Oreal’s upper lip curled, her face as pale and cold as the snow outside. “They have their father’s blood.”

  “A grave disappointment to you, my dear. Such a shame you got stuck with two Elmray spawn.”

  Oreal nodded. “Utterly useless, both of them.”

  The harpies knocked back more beetberry wine. It was a specialty in Frostweather—bitter and cold like everything else in this Sky-forsaken kingdom.

  “My brother was kind to take them in. I would not have allowed Dahlquist dirt into my home.”

  Rage burned up my spine. Suddenly, I was no longer chilled. Anger was a constant companion at Hailshadow, always simmering beneath the surface of my mind, ready to flare up and burst out of me like the geysers in Swampia.

  My sister stepped closer to me. Whereas Oreal was all sharp edges and reedy hair, Reyna was soft curves and silken black locks. The press of her shoulder begged me not to act out. We had nowhere else to go. No one to take us in. Reyna had lived at Hailshadow all her life. She’d hardened herself to Oreal and our blackguard of a stepfather, Bhevac. Schooled herself to appear obedient. If Reyna wasn’t leaning against me, I’d storm over to Lady Yasmine, grab the glass from her bony fingers, and smash it against the wall.

  Frigid bitch. Even exiled, I was still a prince of Dahlquist.

  Lady Yasmine made a slurping sound as she finished off her wine before snapping at the nearest attendant to refill her glass. An unsmiling male dressed in black left his post beside the doorway to pour her a full glass.

  “Top off Lady Oreal while you’re at it,” she instructed. “Where are you scampering off to?” she snapped when I started toward the door. “Your mother has not given you permission to leave.”

  More likely they’d have nothing left to entertain them if I wasn’t around to insult. “Very well, since you find my presence so agreeable, I shall grace you with my continued company,” I said mockingly.

  “Don’t get smart with me, boy.” Lady Yasmine narrowed her eyes.

  “Go then,” Oreal said, waving me off. “I already have to see you more than I care to.”

  I didn’t have to be told twice. Head lifted, I swept out as though I were lord of the manor.

  Once I reached my chamber, I picked up a carved chair with clawed feet and launched it at the wall with enough force for it to crack. I snatched it back up and smashed it again and again until it resembled kindling more than furniture. Looking down at the splintered wood felt like a preview of my life. How many more insults could I take before I broke apart? The only thing that kept me sane was sneaking away to the elven realm with my sister whenever Oreal and Bhevac left Hailshadow on holiday. As the children of a deceased king, my sister and I had the power to create portals.

  In the elven realm, we were treated with reverence. We were Fae royalty, welcomed by all the high elves to their house parties and fetes. An open invitation issued for whenever we found time to drag ourselves away from our “charmed” life in Faerie.

  It didn’t matter that we brought little coin. The high elves were happy to feed and entertain us. Having a Fae prince and princess in attendance was the real prize.

  I flexed my fingers, wanting nothing more than to leave this wasteland behind once and for all.

  Oreal had issued a severe warning that if she ever caught us portaling out of Frostweather, we shouldn’t bother returning. As if I wanted to return to this frozen cesspit. But Reyna had pointed out on numerous occasions that our status in the elven realm would crumble apart faster than a dry snowball if we were known as refugees turned out by our own mother. It was one thing to spend a weekend, or even a week, at a house party; it was quite another to beg asylum. We were both too proud for that. And forget travel in Faerie. Oreal was fond of reminding me that King Liri had issued orders to kill me on sight with a hefty reward awaiting any who delivered him my head.

  I walked up to my vanity, gripping the edge of the dark table. My black hair hung over my forehead, prickling my eyes. It looked a mess—like me. Lulu would have offered to trim it. She’d ask if she could add highlights.

  I didn’t want to think of my adoptive mother and the love she’d given me. I hated how I’d left her at Dahlquist Castle without a goodbye. I’d betrayed the one female who’d loved me unconditionally. I blamed Oreal for abandoning me at the Fable Festival in Dahlquist when I was seven with orders to infiltrate the castle, free my uncle Malon from the dungeons, and steal back my crown. I blamed Uncle Malon for turning out to be a wretch, just like my mother. I blamed Lark Elmray for messing up my plans. But mostly, I blamed myself for going along with any of it in the first place. I’d had a happy home. An adoptive mother who loved me. An elf girlfriend who had made me happier than I’d ever dreamed. I’d been prepared to give up all my mother’s plans for Fraya Keasandoral—until Lark humiliated me in front of her. He’d forced my hand. I couldn’t let her think I was some low-life servant. She deserved better. She deserved a prince, just like her mother’s first mate, Cirrus Elmray. Granted, it was all a bit messed up, but when it came to Fraya, my feelings had been as strong and sound as pure gold.

  I thought back to the first time I met Fraya.

  I was twelve years old, my lower lip trembling as Lark made fun of the purple highlights Lulu had applied to the top of my head.

  “I should start calling you grape head or eggplant.” Lark had laughed. When I squinted at him in confusion, he sighed and informed me that an eggplant was a type of vegetable in the mortal realm. “Not that you’d know,” he said in a haughty tone.

  He was always flaunting his world travels, especially when his cousin Fraya was visiting. Such a prick. He wouldn’t have been so smug if he’d known we were family, but that was a secret I was sworn to keep until the timing was right. I couldn’t wait to put the blond jerk face back in his place.

  Instead, I stormed out before I lost my cool and spoiled everything.

  Fraya found me in the nursery on the window seat, arms wrapped around my knees. On the grounds below, Reed and Ronin, Lark’s six-year-old twin brothers (my first cousins!), chased one another while their nannies watched.

  On noticing Fraya’s arrival, I turned my attention back to the window. She joined me on the ledge, brushing right up against my back. I kept still, hardly breathing. Unlike Lark, she never put on airs. She was dressed in cobalt leggings, a cream blouse, a black leather waist cincher, and knee-high boots. Smooth, sunny blonde hair reached practically to Fraya’s waist. I always felt tongue-tied around the beautiful elf.

  “Lark’s just jealous because you look cool and you were getting all the attention.” She spoke with sweet confidence. “I love how it looks. It’s stylish and bold. Not everyone is brave enough to pull it off.”

  She shocked me by running her fingers through my hair. My scalp buzzed beneath her touch. Tingles traveled down my neck. I wanted to lean in to her, but I was afraid she’d stop if I made the slightest movement. On the next stroke, she scraped her nails gently along my scalp. It felt like she was pulling me apart one thread at a time, exposing feelings and sensations I couldn’t keep up with—not when she continued touching me so brazenly.

  “I bet blue highlights would look striking with your black hair,” Fraya said as she pulled her hands away and folded them in her lap.

  Afraid my voice would sound raspy, I gave a nod. Blood pounded in my ears. My heartbeat thumped in warning against my ribs. What was this feeling? It was like a stomachache and celebration all wrapped together in one jumbled mess.

  After that, I asked Lulu for blue highlights. Fraya didn’t see them right away. When she next visited Dahlquist Castle, she was fourteen and I was thirteen. I was ready that time. I’d asked Manga, the flirty eldest daughter of the head cook, for instructions on kissing. She’d agreed, saying we both needed the practice—me more than her. She had her sights set on one of the younger royal guards. We were both determined to make ourselves irresistible.

  The next time Fraya touched my hair, I kissed her. And i
n that moment, my heart claimed hers. Naively, I’d believed we were destined for one another. Fated.

  Now, I was the last male Fraya would ever choose.

  My focus returned to the present. Coal-black eyes glowered back at me in the mirror. There wasn’t a trace of color in my midnight locks. My lips no longer knew how to smile. My heart no longer had the capacity to love.

  But still, that dark Elmray obsession, embedded deep in my DNA, vowed to make Fraya mine.

  I hadn’t moved on, even though she had, years ago. I’d never move on. Never give up. Never get over her.

  And if I ever had even the smallest chance with her again, I wouldn’t relent until our heartlines were sliced open, our blood was mixed, and we were bound together as forever mates.

  I caught my reflection in the mirror—my head shaking at my insanity.

  I had a better chance of storming Dahlquist Castle and stealing the crown off King Liri’s head than I did of winning over Fraya Keasandoral. I’d blown my chances at the crown and with her. And still, I couldn’t let go.

  ###

  Don’t miss Alok and Fraya’s heart wrenching, second chance romance in THE DARK PRETENDER.

  The heirs all have shorter, romantic, cliffhanger free novels filled with all the fun and steam! Start with THE GOLDEN PRINCE. Turn the page to read the first three chapters of Lark’s M/M, coming of age, enemies to lovers romance.

  THE GOLDEN PRINCE

  CHAPTER ONE

  Lark

  Glowing blue and green lights rippled over the darkened ballroom. Fae dressed like sea creatures swished past jellyfish lanterns and tables crawling with fondant crabs, sand dollar cookies, and turtle cakes made with sugared jelly.

  Exotic dancers in shiny skintight turquoise pants and iridescent wing-like fins performed beautiful feats of flexibility in front of the string quartet. The females wore tight halter tops, and the males had scales painted over their bare chests.

  Aunt Sarfina had outdone herself again. She knew how to throw the kind of party no noble Fae would choose to miss. No matter what they thought of our family.

  I stood tall among the guests, bare-chested, my muscles oiled to a gleaming bronze and gold glitter shimmering over my biceps. Gilded shoulder and wrist plates adorned my skin, my head topped with a bronze crown in the shape of horn snails. Thick gold links circled my neck, hanging halfway down my chest. Some of the males wore full-on flippered tails in fabrics that shimmered and reflected in the surges of light. Many more had gone for tight shiny pants. I was one of the few to arrive in a gold-trimmed black Speedo.

  I would have looked a scandal in the mortal world (unless I was performing in an under-the-sea routine for a strip joint). Inhibitions went right out the portal in Faerie. I’d learned to fit in. A little too much, according to my mother. My fathers had been quick to agree, but then, who wanted to argue with a fire-wielding elf?

  Now twenty, I’d come into my own fire magic. (Thank you, Mother.) Uncle Liri had been thrilled. He said it added to my allure.

  This was his court at present—his and my aunt Hensley’s. They were always inviting me to Dahlquist. Well, ever since I offed Uncle Malon, saving my family’s kingdom from him and his blackguard nephew.

  Alok Elmray’s harpy of a mother had been so enraged over his cock-up that she’d spread a rumor across Faerie that I’d been conceived under the influence of lust dust and that this was the real reason my mother ended up with two mates. Mom said Oreal was a raving lunatic. Oreal claimed she’d witnessed the spell placed over my mother. Fae couldn’t lie, so . . . whatever. I didn’t care anymore. The gossipmongers gulped it down like bubbling wine. The nobles already called me “halfling” for most of my life. And then something changed.

  It happened after I killed Malon. I stopped giving a fig. It’s interesting how something as simple as not caring changed my standing. That and striking down my uncle. Now they knew what I was capable of. Now I had their respect. Their favor. And, in some cases, their devotion.

  Males and females flocked to me. Young and old. I wished they wouldn’t. My cousin Fraya told me if I didn’t want the attention, I should stop dressing like a gigolo.

  But I needed their attention. I needed it so I could snub them all. I wanted to shine my beauty in their smug faces until I blinded the insufferable bastards. As though I’d ever forget years of insults flung in my face, cast at my family.

  I wanted them to want me so that I could turn around and deny them all.

  A male wearing a shark costume and gripping a harpoon glared at me. Well, not everyone was a fan. My view of the indignant shark was cut off by a server dressed as an octopus holding a silver tray with sapphire cocktails. “Would you care for a Deep Blue Sea, Prince Lark?”

  A miniature sugared dolphin clung to the rim of each glass.

  “No, thank you.” If my family were in residence, I would have gone for it, but they were all back in the elven realm.

  On my own, I was the responsible eldest son. I couldn’t count on Uncle Liri or Aunt Sarfina to look out for me. They encouraged debauchery. If I let myself go, I could end up as part of an orgy or sacrificial ritual. Well, maybe not a ritual but definitely an orgy. There were open invitations on that score, but I’d never let these pricks get their hands on me that way.

  Bubbles floated past me as a female in a scaled bodysuit blew from a turquoise wand. There were more bubble-blowing faeries waving their wands through the crowd. Aunt Sarfina wasn’t much for the mortal realm, but when she’d seen us playing with bubbles as children, she’d insisted my dad Lyklor bring some back for her.

  “At least the mortals aren’t entirely useless,” she’d made sure to say in front of Aunt Hensley, Uncle Liri’s human mate.

  I could already see Aunt Sarfina’s eyes hooking me from beside a small group of males dressed like squids. My aunt wore a crown made of real seashells and a clingy pink gown that faded into purple ripples below her knees. The outline of her pelvis and thighs could be seen through the faded section, and a keyhole opening showed off toned skin between her breasts. My aunt looked smashing as usual.

  The young and beautiful Cadmi Quickhorn stood beside Aunt Sarfina in a white bustier covered in pearls with more wrapped around her delicate neck. The pearls looked especially good on her dark skin. She wore a flouncy plum skirt with wavy silver embroidery. Cadmi didn’t stand so much as pose. One hand rested on her lower hip, the other on her thigh.

  Aunt Sarfina grabbed the female’s arm and walked her to me. Cadmi pushed out her chest and flashed me a sultry smile, raking her eyes over me as they closed in.

  Aunt Sarfina nodded at me with a pleased smile. “Doesn’t Lark look like a dream?”

  “Like a wet dream,” Cadmi replied.

  The females burst into giggles. I smirked and stood straighter, as though I’d just heard something clever.

  “Oh, you are a wicked one, aren’t you?” Aunt Sarfina asked in delight. “But it’s true, my nephew is the best catch in the kingdom.”

  “I believe you hold that title, Auntie,” I replied smoothly.

  Aunt Sarfina beamed.

  “Aw,” Cadmi cooed. Her syrupy sweetness did not match the narrowing of her eyes when she speared Aunt Sarfina with a sideways glance. Despite being older, my aunt was still a blonde beauty who turned heads at every party. It didn’t matter that we were family. Cadmi was the jealous sort who saw threats in all females. “Aren’t you going to ask me to dance, Lark?” Pouty bronzed lips puckered at me.

  I cocked one brow. “Isn’t that what you’re doing now?” I asked sardonically.

  “Is that a yes?” Cadmi demanded.

  I gave her the barest nod, but from her squeal, you’d think I’d chased her down for a dance. Cadmi grabbed me by the arm.

  “Mind the shimmer,” I warned her in a sharp voice.

  Cadmi giggled. I swear these nobles got off on sadism.

  I couldn’t stand the part I played. I didn’t like myself here, which begged the question: was re
venge worth the price? And what was I really getting out of this? Why was I really here?

  I’d rather cut out my tongue than admit the truth. Instead, I allowed Cadmi to drag me to the dance floor like I was a prize fish she’d caught. I smirked while she fought off other females who tried to grind up behind me as she ran slender fingers down my chest.

  “I want the next dance,” a female in an electric-blue netted skirt announced beside us.

  “The next dance is mine,” snapped a female in a green halter top and short sequined skirt.

  Cadmi hissed at them. “Get away from us. We’re trying to dance. Or maybe Prince Lark will have to take me someplace private where we won’t be bothered.”

  The females huffed but backed off.

  “Insidious piranhas,” Cadmi said scornfully. She wrapped her slender arms around my neck, tugging heavy like the gold chains I wore. A smile played over Cadmi’s lips. “It’s no wonder they try. Your aunt is right, Lark. You are the best catch in the kingdom. You belong with someone equally beautiful.”

  Maintaining a bored smirk was beginning to wear on me. No, Cadmi was wearing on me. I had half a mind to storm out of this shark-infested function and portal back home to Pinemist. I’d need to change first; otherwise my family would laugh themselves stupid at the sight of me in a Speedo and glitter.

  I missed hanging out with my real friends: Fraya and Zelie.

  A pit opened in my stomach. The three of us hadn’t actually spent time together in a while. Everything was changing. Fraya was always off competing, taking the archery circuit by storm. And Zelie . . . Shit. I’d blown it with her a couple years ago; ruined one of my closest friendships. I hadn’t meant to. It’s just, she’d kissed me, and I hadn’t wanted to kiss her back. I wish I had. It would have been the perfect little love story for friends who had grown up together.

  Love was complicated, especially as an Elmray. My family had serious issues when it came to relationships.

  Maybe spending time in Faerie wasn’t revenge at all. Maybe I was running away.