Prince of Then - Book 4 - the full-length prequel (Paperback)

A wounded fae prince. A determined human healer. The beginning of a love destined to temper a terrible curse.

Holly only wants to heal her sick mother and live a simple village life, not be whisked away to a strange realm and possibly get killed by a dangerous fae warrior.

But sometimes fate has other plans.

Far from home, his horse and eagle missing, Gadriel, the cursed heir to the Throne of Five, captures a human girl, mistaking her for the evil sorceress foretold to bring about the fall of his beloved kingdom.

Wounded while fighting the sacred boar, instead of killing the little witch, he demands she heal him, planning to dispose of her as soon as he recovers.

But little does he know he’s captured his fated mate—the answer to all his problems—and now holds her at his mercy in an isolated cottage in the woods.

After Holly discovers Gadriel’s true identity and his arrogance turns into something more dangerous, she’ll need every ounce of willpower not to fall for his perilous flirtations and return home in time to save her mother.

If the ruthless fae prince will let her go.

Suitable for a young adult and up audience with swoony emotion-based love scenes.

PROLOGUE - THE BEGINNING...

Once upon a time, the Faery city of Talamh Cúig was a place of peace, where the Elements co-existed in perfect harmony and gifted the people with their ancient nature magic.

Sisters—the Elements were five in number.

Ether, the soul who bound them together.

Terra, who loved to play in the dirt.

Undine, bathed in blue.

Salamander with her hair on fire.

And Aer, who longed to rule over all, but none more so than Gadriel, the raven-haired prince with eyes of brightest sapphire blue.

But what will a shunned air mage do when she learns that love cannot be forced?

Seal the prince’s fate.

Poison his blood.

And curse his line forever.


CHAPTER 1 - THE CURSED PRINCE

GADE

“Gadriel, I see you at the water’s edge. Surely you don’t wish to hide from me,” calls a voice, soft as the summer breeze and just as sweetly cloying.

I know exactly who that voice belongs to, and I definitely want to hide from her.

Scooping my sword from the ground, I duck behind a tree trunk and quickly tie my belt around my hips. When I glance up, she’s in front of me—Aer, standing in the forest, her impossible golden beauty shining as bright as the midday sun.

“Hello, Gade,” she says, smiling and blushing like the maid I’m well aware she isn’t. Far from it, for she is as old as the earth beneath my feet, more lovely than the sky, as tempting as a cool lake, and more terrifying than the wildest of flames.

“Kiss me,” she breathes, pressing her palm against my still-wet chest.

To balance my powers, I’ve bathed in the Lake of Spirits—the source of our kingdom’s magic—and now, the six-pointed star glyph on the back of my hand glows brightly, fully charged, Aer’s hungry gaze fixing on it.

“I knew you’d come soon,” she says, the thin straps of her creamy gown slipping halfway down her arms. “I knew you couldn’t stay away.”

A wry smile twists my lips. “Of course I couldn’t. It’s been a month since I last visited the lake, and my powers were ebbing.”

She steps closer, crushing pine needles underfoot, the smell invigorating. “How old are you now, Gade?”

Why she asks when she already knows the answer is beyond me.

“Eighteen.”

Her fair brow rises. “A man now, and so tall and strong. I predict that today will be the day you’ll finally kiss me.”

“You’re an Elemental mage, not a faery. Me dallying with you would be like a forest stag trying to win the heart of a princess in the highest tower. Or the dark sea longing to hold the moon in its slippery embrace. Ridiculous and impossible.”

The pine trees groan. Limbs and twigs snap as her gold eyes darken; the first signs of her anger. She steps back, her long fingers curling into fists. “I’ve been patient, young princeling. I have courted, and I have waited, and my desire for the great king you will one day become has been my only sustenance these long years past. And you repay my dedication and steadfast love with insults?”

A sour taste fills my mouth as I recall her past attentions, the lavish presents she gifted me each celebration of my birth, the precious jewels, the poems. The many times her regard made me feel akin to an insect drowning in a pot of the sweetest honey.

For many moons, I’ve thought nothing of her lingering touches, her heated stares. Why would I? She is a mage. I am a prince. Never in the history of Faery has one been interested in the other.

“Oh, Gadriel, how I tire of this game.”

“What game? If you play one, I do not know it.”

Her brittle smile twists into a snarl. “Are you really so naive, handsome Prince of Five?”

I’m not. It is only with Aer that I pretend to be.

Her knuckles bleach white around a thin branch as she snaps it from the ash tree behind me, leaning too close. “I am ready to be yours and can wait no longer for this to be done. But I can’t force you. You must choose me, and the time has come to do so.”

My frown grows. “Choose you for what?”

“To be your bride, of course.” A sly smile spreads over her face. “In all the seven realms, there is no one who will love you as I do. I shall be your forever queen.”

With those words, the first tendrils of fear snake through my stomach.

She is deadly serious, and a deadly Aer is a grave problem.
I draw a quick breath, then force a smile. “You’re an Elemental mage. It cannot be. What about your sisters? Think of Ether, Terra, Undine, and Salamander.”

“What of them?”

“It would put the Elements, no, it would put everything out of balance—the whole kingdom would be at risk. You, the air mage, cannot rule over your sisters. It is impossible.”

Translucent yellow eyes turn opaque, and she strikes, pulling me close as her sickly sweet lips coax mine to open.
The air mage kisses me.

Fingers digging into her shoulders, I shove her away. “I do not want you, Aer. What you wish for will never be.”

Thunder shakes the sky as her fury surges through the air, an acrid scent. I have made a grievous mistake. A terrible error of judgment. I should have taken more care with my words and let her down gently.

“I insist that you do desire me.” Her gown wavers then melts away, and she stands before me naked, her body luminous, glorious, and a bizarre contrast to the ugly contortion of her features. Eyes squinting. Brow lined. Teeth bared and elongating.

It’s such a strange sight that laughter explodes from me.

Aer’s gold eyes turn black as she covers her chest with her arm, and then the gown appears, enfolding her curves again. “You dare to laugh at me? You ignorant, ungrateful fool. Do you not realize I hold your fate in my hands?”

My blood rushes through my veins, and I shake my head, stepping backward. “Aer… You misunderstand…”

She opens her mouth, and a screech like the sound of a thousand wailing harpies shreds the air as I fall to my knees, clutching my chest.

Then there is only pain.

And more pain.

Agony is my blood, my soul, my very name.

I am agony.

“Aer…” The word croaks out of me, the taste on my tongue like bitter poison, thick as it slides down my throat. “What have you done?”

Silver fire licks over her arms, the wind whipping her hair around her shoulders like serpents seeking prey to strike. Purple clouds race above, then explode with a thunderous boom. Lightning flashes. The forest floor shakes.

“I curse you, Gadriel Raven Fionbharr and all the future heirs of the Throne of Five. In your blood, the blackest poison will bloom, gifting you the cruelest death. You will burn, and you will moan, and pray to all the gods that love will find you fast. Your pure heart will turn to coal heartbeat by heartbeat, breath by breath. You will hate and, finally, you will love, but find your true mate you must—or die a slow and painful death.”

My every muscle taut and trembling, I struggle to my feet and face her, my hand crushing my sword pommel. “You must truly loathe me.”

“No, fair prince, it is the opposite. I will love you beyond the veil to the depths of the underworld and back. This is the price you’ll pay for not surrendering your heart to me as you should.”

But the punishment isn’t equal to my supposed crime. Aer’s revenge is savage. Never-ending.

“Punish me if you will, but not the innocent souls in my line who come after me. In what way will my children’s children have wronged you? Your curse is unjust.”

“All is fair in matters of love and rejection. But I am not without mercy. You are the most fortunate of your line, for you will keep your Powers of Five. Future princes of your land will rule one element only, yet I’ll allow you to retain them all. See? Am I not a merciful mage, Gadriel?”

There is only one answer to that question, and she would not like to hear it.

“And you still live, Gadriel. I could slay you this moment with one breath, but I do not. And I’ve given you part of the key to easing your misery—to remain alive, you must find a mate before the poison has run its course. It won’t be an easy task because the mate I select may not be fae and may view you as a monster, just as you view me now.”

“Not fae? What else could she be?”

“Perhaps a troll. Or a human.”

“No, wait, Aer. Please do not—”

Closing her eyes, the mage begins to chant, softly at first, then growing louder and louder until blood trickles from my ears.

Through the pain, I can only make out a little of what she says: “Black will fade to gray, gray to white, and white to never. Never was the darkest taint and never will it ever be.” Then she mutters in a low, guttural voice, the words an incoherent song that splinters my bones and grinds them to dust.

Clutching my head, I drop to my knees again. “Please, Aer. Stop!”

The sky clears as she turns away, her billowing robes dissolving into the forest until only her voice remains. Floating on the breeze come whispered words of ruin—a halfling, a king, dark and light, and Faery born. They all mean naught to me.

“Farewell, Black Blood Prince, first of your cursed line. Your pain will one day cease, but your kingdom’s suffering will be endless. My gift to you is the Black Blood poison. This gift is your curse, and when your bones are ash, your son’s curse to bear, and so on and so on. Until the end of time.”

Like a volley of poisoned arrows have pierced my chest, agony shoots through my veins and settles in my skull. And then there is no lake. No forest. No warmhearted Prince of Five.

Only blackness remains.

And then nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.


CHAPTER 1 - MANY YEARS LATER

HOLLY

The ancient forest that enfolds my village is not only my oldest friend but has an abundance of comfrey, my favorite herb for treating burns and swellings.

This morning, I’ve gathered so much that its leaves spill from my basket, obscuring the plants resting beneath it—spotted St John’s Wort to keep the devil from our door and foxglove for my mother’s weak heart.

On the whole, it has been a successful foraging trip, but I cannot leave the forest until I have the root that eases Mother’s nerves and brings her restful sleep, which means I must go deeper into the woods to where a patch of wild valerian grows in the damp soil near the river’s edge.

With the sun warming my shoulders, I cut through tangled vegetation and hasten down a gentle slope, calling greetings to robins singing from gnarled branches.

It’s a perfect spring day, yet worry dampens my mood. My sweet, gentle mother grows weaker with each day that passes, and when I look into her wise gray eyes, it’s clear she knows she’s running out of time.

“It’s all right, my darling Holly,” she told me this morning. “We’ll meet again one day in the Otherworld.”

A comforting notion, but in reality, a gigantic pile of pigs’ swill.

As the daughter of the village wise woman, I have faith in the healing power of plants and herbs and respect the spirits that imbue them, but I don’t believe in a faery tale land beyond the grave where our loved ones wait joyously for us to join them.

Life is too unfair.

With all that Mother has suffered—my father’s death in a riding accident when I was a babe, losing her two sons to malignant fevers three years later, the constant bellyache of poverty—it’s beyond me how she still believes that with her last breath, she’ll be transported to some misty island to dance and feast alongside ancient kings and queens forevermore.

All Mother has left in the world are her daughters; me and my older sister, Rose. Not that good-hearted Rose is much help since her main interests are flirting with her beau, Liam, and collecting pretty threads and ribbons to decorate her well-worn gowns.

These pursuits occupy her days and seem to satisfy her, but I can’t imagine a greater waste of time than kissing the baker’s son in the storeroom for an entire afternoon.

The young men of our village are loud and foolish and rarely speak a sensible word. My black hen, Nellie, has more sense than all of them put together, so I count myself lucky that whenever I stand next to Rose, most don’t spare me a second glance.

The trees begin to thin out, a bright sail of blue sky appearing above thin alder branches as I gather my damp skirts in my fist and pick my way down a hill to a section of boggy grass and wildflowers near the riverbank. Squinting in the dappled light, I peer around the lush vegetation, spying the white flower heads of my quarry above a patch of wild carrot and hemlock.

I hurry over, pick a leaf, and crush it between my fingers, a strong earthy smell releasing. Bending, I put my basket on the ground and harvest the valerian plant, roots and all.

A crack sounds, followed by a high-pitched piping noise, the leaves to my right shaking as if an animal passes through the scrub, then a strange, heavy silence falls over the forest.

I glance around the gold-lit trees, listening for movement. If a bird or a creature is injured, I aim to find it, take it home, and nurse it back to health.

A silver mist appears from nowhere, swirling along the forest floor. It eddies and forms a thick column, a tall blonde woman stepping out of it—a young noble lady by the fine fabric of her billowing white dress and clear, glowing skin.

“Good morning,” I say, covering my shock at her sudden appearance with a friendly smile.

She gives me a brilliant smile back, and a silver aura vibrates around her body as if she’s back lit by bright sunshine. But that doesn’t make sense—the sun is behind me, not her.

“Good day, child,” she says. “How fortunate I am to meet you here today.”

Child? I am almost twenty years old. Perhaps her eyesight is defective.

“I’m very glad to find you passing. I need your assistance. My sister has fallen, and I cannot manage alone. Your basket is full of healing herbs, so I assume you are the type who longs to help others. Assist me and your efforts will be rewarded with something all humans seek but cannot easily find.” A graceful arm beckons me forward.

This woman speaks strangely, which makes me wonder if she’s a wealthy traveler from a town very far from ours and perhaps a poet or philosopher. The ways of the rich are a mystery, but if I help her sister, she may pay in gold coin that will see us through next winter.

“Do you live nearby?” I ask. “Or have you a cart waiting?”
The road back to the village is long, and there aren’t any houses on this side of the forest. Between the two of us, we won’t be able to move her sister, but I can ease her pain at least before going for burlier help.

“No, girl, I live far from here in another time and place. My sister has arranged return transport but needs assistance to rise.”

I wonder if this sister might have fallen and hurt her head. She sounds moonstruck and is possibly mad. Regardless, I will never refuse to help the injured, so I follow the white lady into a small clearing.

She links her arm through mine as we walk. “See over there? My sister rests beyond the hawthorn tree.”

A woman lies under a dark cloak, a cloud of white hair and long limbs protruding from the material.

“Yes, I see her.”

The injured girl sits up, then stands, her movements slow and graceful. Brushing leaves from her clothes, she walks toward me, her bearing regal, the light behind her dazzling, and her steps too sure to be injured.

A cold tendril of fear curls through my stomach as I realize I’ve made a terrible error of judgment.

The woman’s smile is wide, but her dark eyes glitter with something inhuman and frightening. She looks unhinged, not entirely normal, and I have a sinking feeling that following them into this glade was not only a silly mistake, but a fatal one.

Rose always warned me that my desire to save all creatures, be they vicious or friendly, would be the death of me. Right now, I really hate to think she might have been correct.

“Hello,” I say as I take two steps backward, stumbling over stones. “How is your ankle? Are you in much pain?”
Her laughter echoes through the trees. “Thank you for coming. Look down and check the path you tread upon.”

“Pardon?” My gaze drops to my brown boots positioned in the middle of a ring of gilled, white-capped mushrooms that glow beneath the hawthorn tree. A faery tree. Fear tightens my throat muscles.

Still smiling, the lady offers her hand. “Come, my name is Ether. You can trust me. I will ensure you arrive safely.”

“Arrive? Arrive where? I can’t leave here.”

“Talamh Cúig, the Land of Five. A girl like you is needed, and what is owed must be paid.”

Paid? Good grief, what nonsense this demented woman speaks. My heart pounds as I shake my head and try to lift my feet to flee for my life—first one foot and then the other—but my boots are stuck in the mud and I cannot move an inch.

“I’m trapped,” I say, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to tamp down panic.

“Yes,” she says calmly, pointing at the circle of mushrooms. “Indeed, you are.”

Unlike most residents of my village, I don’t believe in the stories of faeries dancing in the moonlight. I’m practical minded, and most of my fears are based in reality—the pain of hunger, the grief of losing a loved one.

But I do believe in humoring lunatics if it will keep them calm and buy me time to escape their delusions.

“But the ring is broken, you see? When I entered it, I trampled on an edge. Doesn’t that break its power? You have no authority to take me anywhere. And besides, my mother is sick and needs me to return home.”

“It matters not, human. Our hawthorn tree secures the boundary of the sacred circle, and your mother’s time is nearly done. There is not a herb or tincture in the seven realms that could divert her from her course.”

Eyes shining with as much compassion as flat, black stones are paired with a soothing smile. She touches my cloak, hand delving underneath the rough material until she finds bare skin at the base of my throat. This close, she is beyond beautiful. Unearthly. But her grip is merciless and choking.

As her fingers squeeze my neck, the birds begin to chirp, the song wild and frantic.

The lady’s hand tightens.

I cough but find I have no strength to fight. My vision darkens, sweat beading my skin. “Please… My mother…”

Then the voice of the first lady who approached me, the golden sister, wafts over me. “The girl is not as horrible to behold as I would wish but certainly no great beauty. She will do fine. The bargain I made was a good one. What is your name, girl?”

My name… my name.

What is my name?

I do not know it.

Perhaps I never had one.

The light grows dimmer, and the other sister speaks. “Aer, are you absolutely certain this girl is the one you seek? I would not like to seize the wrong mortal.”

Nausea overtakes me, darkness unfurling in my mind and swallowing me whole, then a wash of starlight bathing me as I fall into a spinning tunnel.

Down.
Down.
Down.

White light explodes inside my head, and I remember… I remember who I am. “Holly,” I whisper. “My name is Holly…”

“Oh, yes, Sister,” the lady called Aer says. “She’s most definitely the one.”

The wave of blackness crests, slips over my head, and pulls me under, drowning me in midnight.

And then I’m no longer Holly.

I’m no one.
No one at all.