Attraction. I laugh out loud. What courses between us is so much more than attraction, so much more than lust. There are many beautiful females in Velmara, all eager to catch the attention of the Shining Prince. None have ever set me on fire the way Laurel does, like I’m a light burning brighter and brighter the longer I spend in her presence. I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t enjoy flirting my way through most situations, but what I do with Laurel is so much more than flirting. My magic becomes easier around her, too, something about her nearness allowing me to tap into the aether with a stronger and deeper connection.

A soft thud on the small balcony outside my room startles me. Looking over, two bright yellow orbs stare back at me. Laurel’s cat. When I open the door for the feline, she stalks inside. I stay frozen, unsure what to do about the enormous, wild animal in my room. Her sleek body pads toward me, sniffing first my feet, then my legs, then my stomach. My heart beats quickly in my chest, and I regret opening the door for her. She rubs her head against my palm, and on instinct I scratch it. Yellow eyes close in satisfaction, so I increase the pressure. Sitting down on the foot of my bed, I run both hands down her body.

“You’re just a regular house cat, aren’t you?” She responds by purring loudly and jumping onto my bed to lay her head in my lap. I continue scratching her, as I’m not sure what else to do, and I certainly don’t want to anger what is one of the most terrifying beasts I’ve ever encountered. We sit like that for several more minutes. With no warning, the cat stands up, stretches, and jumps through the open door. She’s disappeared before I can even stand. I chuckle as I shut the door behind her. Cats are all the same, no matter the size.

That night, after my usual inappropriate dreams of Laurel, I dream of an old fae female. She stares at me with haunted yellow eyes, and is saying something to me, but I can’t understand her. She has long black hair that reaches past her waist, and sharp nails that resemble claws. I get the sense that she’s desperate to tell me something, but I can never hear her or speak back to her. When I wake in the morning, the image of her distraught expression lingers.

“Are you almost ready?” Silene asks as she pops her head into my bedroom. I straighten my tunic, push my hair back from my face, and turn to Silene, whose shit-eating grin gives me pause.

“What?” I ask, cheeks heating for no reason. Absolutely no reason at all.