I frowned. “Are they too young?”
“Claire,” he said, forcing my attention back to him. “You’re the youngest Spirit Fae in existence. No others were born after you.”
My lips parted. “Because of the plague.”
He nodded. “Yes.” He tilted his head. “Has my brother not spoken of this? Of the importance of your mating and what it means for our people?”
I swallowed and slowly shook my head. “We’ve… It’s been… Well, I mean—”
“A simple no would suffice,” he interjected, his tone suggesting his displeasure at my rambling.
But it wasn’t like there’d been an abundance of time for Exos and me to discuss all of this. Between my recruitment—if I could even call it that—into the Academy, and all the insanity that followed, plus his disappearance, we hadn’t gotten around to what it meant for him to be a royal. Or, really, anything about Spirit Fae history other than my mother’s impact.
“My people will pray for your fertility, Claire,” he said, his gaze returning to the glow of Springfall. “You’ll be our only hope at creating an heir to the Spirit Kingdom.”
My mouth worked without sound, his words not at all ones I expected to hear.
Fertility?
Heir?
“What?”
He glanced at me, his lips curling down. “Why else would you mate with my brother if not to perform royal duties?”
My eyes widened, my head moving back and forth. “You can’t be serious. I just met your brother.”
“And yet, you’re in the second stage of mating with him.” He faced me fully, his annoyance evident in the lines of his handsome face. “Are you truly so selfish that you would only engage in the bond for your own self-fulfillment?” His blue eyes raked over me in disgust. “Never mind. Of course you are.”
He turned again, as if to walk away, but I grabbed his arm and yanked him back to me. “At least give me a second to process your accusations before giving up on my reply,” I snapped. God, this fae was such a fucking prick! “What is your problem with me?”
His perfect eyebrow arched. “Would you care for a list?” He didn’t give me a chance to reply before he started in on me. “You’re weak. You’re a Halfling, not a full-blooded fae. You’re not of the royal line. You’re unfaithful and parading around like a regular whore. You’re—”
My palm cracked across his face, my anger erupting into a fire along my skin and threatening to singe him to ash.
“You know nothing about me!” I shouted, done with all of this. “You asked me here to find Exos. So why the fuck are we here? What lesson are you trying to instill in me before we search for your brother? Because I’m done with your very wrong analysis of my character. Yes, I’m a Halfling—one with access to five elements. Fuck your bloodlines and imperious notions on what is best for your brother. Because he chose me, too, or did you forget that little detail of our bond?”
Fuck, I was furious.
I wanted to smack him again.
Kill him.
Something.
It took serious effort to take a step back from him. For I didn’t trust myself not to burn him alive for his crude evaluation.
“I am not a whore,” I whispered, the words costing me severely in emotion. Never had I felt so belittled in my life, and after everything I’d been through in the last few months, that was saying a lot. “You don’t know me at all, Your Highness.” I mock-bowed and left him on the balcony.
Only, he caught me after a few feet, his arm wrapping around my lower abdomen to yank me backward into his chest. “You’re wrong.” His lips were at my ear. “I’ve done nothing but study you for the last month, Claire. I know you.”
I slammed my foot back into his shin and tried to sweep his legs out from beneath him in the way Titus had taught me. Cyrus released me, but just long enough to whirl me in his arms and capture me again.
My fiery handprint on his cheek pleased me greatly, and I wanted to add another.
So I fought him with all I was worth to hit him again. But he blocked each punch, his skill admirable and infuriatingly good.
“Why are you doing this?” I demanded, enraged and exhausted and confused as hell. “Where’s the lead on Exos?”