The Wraith King (The Rise of Northgall, #1)

by Juliette Cross

I wondered if the gods blessed me or hated me by giving me this feisty harpy of a moon fae. For the way I wanted her was frightening, humiliating, and all-consuming. While she despised me. As she should. She would hate me more after the Rite of Servium.

Over the years of war, word had come to me by my spies how beautiful the Princess of Issos had grown, how remarkably elegant in speech and manner, how regal in her bearing, how enchanting her violet gaze. But I’d never been able to picture anything but the young girl I’d taken from the dungeons. Nothing had prepared me for the reality of her.

Whatever means I could employ so that I might ensnare her, I would. For the gods knew, she’d caught and caged my very soul. If she begged me to leave, I wouldn’t let her. If she swore to me that she’d never laugh again if I didn’t release her back to her home in Issos, I’d still not let her go. If she cursed me and swore she’d take her own life, I’d bind her to her bed.

Some power beyond me—and her—had consumed my thoughts with the need to have her near me. Rapture wasn’t quite right to describe it. Neither was bewitchment. It was closer to a curse.