‘All fae have a pretty unhealthy relationship with alcohol, but I took it too far. I never harmed anyone. I made bad decisions and made myself look like an idiot. Mostly, it was to escape from my own thoughts.’

She gazed up at him, her mouth hanging open, as if searching for the words—

Someone grabbed his shoulder, and he stumbled back. He turned and came face-to-face with Elmwood eyes but not the kind ones he found in Agatha. They belonged to Tharin.

‘It is rude to only dance with one partner, Bethan.’ Tharin snatched at her arm, but she pulled it away, nearly stumbling back. But Kellan still had a tight hold on her waist to keep her steady.

‘She is not a toy we need to share.’ Kellan chuckled at Tharin’s possessiveness.

‘She belongs to me.’ He yelped as Kellan reached for his wrist and twisted it back.

‘I’m not yours, Tharin.’ She sucked in a breath. ‘And I never want to be yours again. Now, leave us alone.’

He thought she was done talking but was glad she was nowhere near it.

‘Kellan might not be able to use his powers, but he is more than capable of kicking your ass.’

Tharin winced and snatched his arm out of Kellan’s grasp.

He stormed away, leaving Bethan and Kellan staring after him, gobsmacked. Kellan wanted to put as much space as possible between Bethan and Tharin.

He walked her to a different room; it was smaller and empty. The only furniture was an armchair by the window and a large display cabinet full of books. The room was extremely dimmed, and even with his heightened vision, he struggled to catch every detail of the room. He scanned over the various spines and found oddly a book spine gilded of gold gleaming in the darkness. In the middle of the room was a red-stained wooden table, with a large decorative glass vase in the centre. Bethan moaned when he positioned her against the wall.

He nudged her to see how she was fairing. Her lips widened to a soft smile, and she placed her hand on his shoulder. He stroked her hair, and she pulled back, staring into his eyes.

Her line of sight trailed to his lips, hers puckering. She inched closer and closer.

And all he could feel were her warm breaths on his face. He leant towards her and—

The door cracked open.

Sam was thrown into the room. Bethan flinched at his back thumping on the marble floor.

Kellan flung into action, his dagger unsheathed. Bethan raced towards Sam and cradled his head, searching for signs of life.

Canden Whittaker appeared at the room’s entrance. He limped forward; Sam must have got a few good hits by the looks of a bruise forming on his cheek.

‘I have been waiting to get a hit on you, Prince.’ Canden lunged despite his limp.