I’d never meant Prince Kalyll Adanorin, so the chances that this was all a product of my imagination were high. Maybe inhaling all that aeradonus had messed up my head.
He placed a fist on his chest and gave a small bow. “Good morning, Abin Manael.”
Midnight blue hair. Cobalt blue eyes to match. An intricate pattern of tattoos running down the right side of his face and neck. These were all traits I knew belonged to the Prince of the Seelie Fae. The eldest son of King Beathan Adanorin and Queen Eithne Adanorin. Yet, thiscouldn’tbe him. This had to be some sort of impostor or doppelgänger.
“My name is Kalyll Adanorin,” he said. “And I must apologize for your current… predicament.”
I shook my head, still unable to believe what my eyes and ears were telling me. I had seen pictures of the prince. Even in my realm, he was known. He had visited on diplomatic missions and had been on television, magazines, newspapers—not often, but enough to make him recognizable. And not only that, the guy was legendary. Stories were told about his prowess as if he were Alexander the Great or some shit. Moreover, my sister Toni knew him.
“You’re… really the prince?” I asked, my words halting.
“I am. I know it must seem unlikely that I’m responsible for your abduction from Pharowyn, but, regrettably, I am.” His words were almost as halting as mine. He appeared embarrassed, contrite even.
The hope I’d been harboring surged to the surface in an instant.
“You must have a good reason,” I said, doing my best to sound sensible—though prince or not, he had no right to do what he’d done, and he deserved vitriol, not civility. Still, it was to my advantage to keep things as diplomatic as possible.
“I assure you, I do.” He took a step closer, the shadows receding from his face, and the light spilling through the entrance illuminating his features.
My breath caught. The pictures I’d seen of him didn’t do him justice. He wasn’t only handsome. He was striking. His face was chiseled to aching perfection. His straight nose, razor-edged jaw, high cheekbones, and devastating lips were a sculptor’s dream. Thin eyebrows rose at an angle, framing those azure eyes and giving him an impish appearance that seemed to promise untold pleasures.
But it was his imposing aura that stole my breath more than anything else. I could see why they said his enemies trembled in his presence. He felt like contained momentum, a leashed tornado ready to destroy the world at the least provocation.
He wasn’t the only one who felt leashed, though. Anger simmered in my gut at the prick’s entitlement. The pretty boy had wanted something, and he took it. The hell with diplomacy.
“Well, I don’t give a rat’s ass about your reasons. You need to let me go. Now.”
The prince’s eyebrows went up in surprise at my change in attitude. He quickly recovered and gestured toward a chair. “Why don’t you take a seat so we can talk?”
“What part of‘let me go’don’t you understand? You’re breaking the treaty between your realm and mine.”
As long as they behaved, humans and Fae were supposed to come and go between realms at their leisure and without being bothered. That was the law.
“I’m well aware of that, Ms. Sunder,” he said, with no small amount of chagrin.
“Then release me.”
“I can’t.”
“What is it that you possibly want from me? I’m nobody.”
His eyes glinted. “Hardly.”
He held my gaze, making me feel exposed, as if he saw more than I would ever be willing to show him.
“I require your special talents, Daniella. May I call you Daniella?”
“No.”
“Dani, then.” He smiled, disarmingly.
“Only my friends call me that, and you’re not one of them. On the contrary.”
He winced at that. Tiredly, he sat on one of the folding canvas chairs. A brighter shaft of light illuminated his features, revealing dark circles under his eyes. Wherever he’d been last night, he hadn’t been sleeping.
“You have healers in Elf-hame,” I said. “Why would you need me?”
“Because you’re the only one who can help.”