I regretted the words as soon as I said them, flinching away as Dain laughed again, this time low and dangerous. He turned and gripped my chin to force me to look up at him; I jerked away, backing up, my nostrils flaring.

"You'll have them in the morning," he promised.

I blanched, feeling cold and shaky. "Don't," I whispered.

"Too late, mortal girl," he said, stalking towards me. "My kind keeps their promises and holds true to their words."

I backed up. I couldn't help it. My heart started pounding with terror at the look in his eyes, of deadly... pain. I didn't know how I knew it, but that expression on his face, tight and pulled into the lines of rage, covered over agony. Maybe I recognized it because of the grief that tore at the inside of my ribcage, never quiet, only hidden from the outside world. Maybe it was because of the stupid soulmate thing. But I saw it, and once I did, I couldn't unsee it.

I backed right into a rosebush and staggered, yelping as thorns caught at me. Dain stopped not two steps from me and watched me yank myself free from the bush, snarling my hair and leaving red score-lines across my arms. I rubbed at one, scared and upset, and he just watched me, standing there with a cold expression on his face.

"Why did you choose me, if you only want to despise me like the rest of them?" he asked, tilting his head to one side. His ears leaned towards me, his silver earrings catching the sunlight. "Perhaps you would have been more comfortable staying with my mother, trading smirking barbs behind my back."

Good question, Dain. I swallowed.

"You first," I said.

His chin came up, and he looked down at me with an almost disdainful expression, those lynx ears of his turning as if he might capture some sort of clue on how to deal with me. "How much do you remember from the forest?"

"All of it, I think?" I said. "Up until you showed me your eyes."

Dain turned away. His tails cut through the air, and his wing-hands curled up almost into fists. "Do you remember why I wanted to leave you?" he asked conversationally.

"Yes," I said, anger creeping into my voice. "Too much of a bother for your highness."

He snarled, whirling back to me. "The bother is the four skulls I'll be setting on your breakfast table," he said, biting off the words. "It's people who hate me enough to try to take anything from me that I possess, and who will test my mettle at every turn."

I flinched backwards, re-entering the embrace of the rose with rather more force than before.