Storm Book 1 of Wings of Mist Series

Rose didn't think—she bit down hard until the metallic tang of crimson blood filled her mouth. The man released her, yanking his hand away with a string of curses, and she bolted into the darkness, fueled by a singular, frantic need to escape.

Adrenaline surged through her veins like a monsoon, overwhelming all other sensations. She didn't feel the sharp scratches or cuts as branches and vines clawed at her skin, tearing her silks with each desperate stride. Blinded by panic, she leaped into the air, releasing her wings and casting a bright yellow light around her, illuminating the dark forest for a breathless moment.

Before Rose could ascend above the twisted branches, a powerful force snatched her from the sky. "Are you trying to get killed?" The voice was sharp, reverberating through the night. "Or are you just stupid?"

She tried to bite again, but he anticipated her move, stuffing a rag into her mouth and clamping a hand over her lips, stifling her screams. "Shut up." His voice was firm, pulling her into the cloak of shadows and using his body to block the light from her wings. "If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead, trust me."

Logic pierced the veil of fear, and she stopped struggling. Though tense, her body relaxed enough for him to remove his hand. "Retract your wings. It's like a damn beacon."

Rose winced, the realization of her mistake hitting her like a wave. Shame heated her cheeks, enveloping her like a gossamer shroud as she dissipated her wings, the glow disappearing into the night. She took a shaky breath and spit the rag out, the man's arm still tightly wrapped around her waist, his grip unyielding.

"Who are you?" she asked, attempting to turn and see his face.

His grip tightened, a silent command to remain still. "I'm the one who saved your life."

"You attacked my camp." Rose furrowed her brow, her confusion evident. "Why save my life, then?"

"One." He spun her around to face him. "I did not attack your camp. Those were a faction of the rebellion here in Cetera. Two—we attacked them, not you."

Rose stared at the masked man before her. He was a full head taller than she, with a strong jaw and a cynical expression that held an unsettling confidence. The disguise obscured the upper portion of his face, leaving much to the imagination. In the dim light, she strained to see more. With a sudden burst of determination, she reached for the mask, almost grasping it when he caught her arm, his grip swift and unyielding.

"I wouldn't," he warned, looking down at her, his annoyance barely contained. "Not unless you want to lose a hand, princess."

Rose stiffened, but it didn't stop her sharp tongue. "Maybe then the dark fae wouldn't want me. Pity."

In an instant, her free hand shot out, grabbing the mask and tearing it halfway off his face. He reacted quickly, but not before she saw the infamous indigo of his eyes. Her stomach dropped as he hurriedly adjusted his mask again.

"You're Alric." The realization crashed over her, and she took a step back, a wave of sour and sharp nausea rising in her throat. "The crown prince."

Irritation flickered across his features at being revealed. "I can't say it's a pleasure."

Rose frowned, mirroring his sentiment. "Likewise."

She did not want to be here—alone in the Wanola Forest, deep within Cetera territory, surrounded by the dark fae. If it were up to her, she'd be in her large bed, covered with a weighted blanket made of the finest goose feathers, her head resting on a satin pillow fluffed to perfection. Instead, she dealt with scratches that started to sting. Rose wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off the chill of the night air, which pressed against her skin like an icy kiss.

"Follow me." He beckoned to her. "My men should have the situation under control."

Reluctantly, she followed in his wake, the bracken of the forest floor crunching beneath her feet as they moved forward. She plucked a thorn from her torn sleeve as they walked, the sharp prick an unwelcome distraction.

As they moved back toward the camp, the silence enveloped them, thick and heavy, broken only by the gentle rustle of leaves stirred by the cool night breeze. Each breath Rose made came out labored as she tried to navigate the forest floor. Her soft leather slippers were ill-equipped for the jagged rocks and sharp pine needles. She only heaved a sigh of relief when the flickering light of the campfire finally came into view.

Three of her guards stood solemnly by the trunk of a thick tree, their postures stiff and serious. A blanket covered the fallen, a quiet reminder of the earlier chaos that befell them. It sent a steady chill through her bones as she recalled the severed head that had dropped a few feet from her. The blood still glistening wet at the throat where it was cut. She visibly recoiled, nausea creeping up her throat once more at the memory.

The emissary stood a little off to the side, his breath visible in the cool air as he spoke rapidly to a broad-chested man, the urgency of his words tripping over themselves.

As soon as they stepped into the circle of light, an unnatural quiet fell over the open space, a tension settling among those gathered. The man the emissary had been speaking to instantly straightened, excusing himself from the conversation with a curt nod, which he exchanged with Alric as he approached them.

"All accounted for?" Alric asked, his voice steady and authoritative, cutting through the silence.

"Yes." the soldier replied, putting a hand on the hilt of his sword.

Now standing before her, the man was broad-shouldered, exuding a formidable presence. Rose, struck by his face, which could have been handsome if not marred by a large scar trailing from his ear to his jaw—a jagged line that gleamed in the firelight, drawing her attention like a moth to a flame.

"We caught some trying to slip away. Wykah and the others stopped them." He glanced briefly at Rose, a hint of something unreadable in his gaze. "They won't be a problem anymore."

Alric nodded. He cast a glance at the emissary, a flicker of distaste on his lips. "Escort the princess and the rest of her troupe to the castle. We can't let anything get in the way of this treaty."

"Understood."

Alric stepped to the side, motioning for Rose to follow the man. Like a rabbit she scurried over, still unsettled at being in the company of the dark fae but knowing she had no choice. The soldier guided her toward the carriage and opened the door, a silent invitation lingering in the air as he waited for her to climb inside.

She looked up at him, then back at the carriage. "May I have my stool, please?"

The man didn't budge, his expression unreadable.

Rose sighed. The step for the carriage hit just at her knee, and without a stool, there was no way she could climb into the carriage gracefully. Once again, she reminded herself that this was not home. The customs and courtesies of Anova held no weight in Cetera. She would have to adapt to survive.

When Rose still hadn't moved, the guard cleared his throat. "You got wings, princess. Use them."

Rudeness ran deep amongst the dark fae, it seemed. 

With a determined breath, she set her wings free, allowing them to unfurl and bask everything around her in a warm, yellow glow. They flapped behind her, vibrant and proud, the transparent membranes catching the light and reflecting shades of red, orange, and pink in a mesmerizing dance.

The guard's lips parted in silent awe. He had never seen the wings of a royal fae of Anova up close before. He swallowed hard, his eyes wide as Rose jutted her chin out in defiance and gracefully took to the air. She soared into the carriage. Her long golden locks tumbled behind her, catching the breeze like a waterfall of sunlight, leaving the soldier momentarily speechless in her wake.

When the door clicked closed, Rose huddled into the corner of the carriage, wrapping her arms around her knees and pulling them tight against her chest. The steady rhythm of the wheels turning over the uneven terrain rocked her slowly, the motion lulling her into a fragile sleep as the dark forest passed by outside, a blur of shadows.

It was only the soft knock on the door that stirred her from slumber, the sound cutting through the fog of sleep that clung to her. She lifted her head, groggy but quick to brush the heaviness from her eyes.

"Princess, we're here."

Rose took a deep breath and steadied her racing heart as she sat up. She glanced down at her torn emerald silks, the fabric now ripped in many places, a stark contrast to the elegant image she once embodied. With a swift motion, she tucked stray strands of hair behind her pointed ears and combed her fingers through the tangled lengths, desperately trying to make herself as presentable as possible.

Once she deemed herself ready, she cleared her throat and requested the door open.

"Welcome, princess, to the Moon Palace."