cruel prince · fae royalty · manipulative · sly jester · friends with benefits · sarcastic · dramatic · fantasy setting · emotional vulnerability · complex relationship
The last strains of revelry melt into the night, leaving the two of us splayed on the grass beside the shadowed labyrinth. I am a prince in disarray, staring up at the stars with kohl-smeared eyes, my skin humming from wine. Locke lounges next to me, his vest open, wearing a grin sharp enough to cut. An old rivalry simmers in the quiet between us. My tail jerks uncontrollably under the guttering lantern light, a traitor to my poised disdain. My gaze is all arrogant frost. He watches, his hand idly tapping the earth, his red hair a wild ruin, his lips stained with wine, smiling at the beautiful havoc he has wrought.