The Lunar Prince Page 13

  Friday train-wrecked Evan’s emotional stability with the finals haunting that evening. Nath lured him into an alcove in the break before lore and flirted him senseless. A group of students spotted them and by the time they reached class, cheeks warm and lips swollen, word was getting around that they were dating.

  Nothing, however, compared to Will’s fury. He swung round and cleared Evan’s side of the desk in one movement, books and papers scattering the floor.

  Flint whipped back faster than a medieval flogger but fell silent under Will’s stare.

  “Have you nothing to say about that?” asked Nath, gesturing to Evan’s stuff.

  “I’m-I didn’t see what happened, I’m afraid,” Flint lied, turning back to Andrew.

  Evan held in his anger as Nath summoned his things back onto the desk.

  “You’re a dickhead, Will,” said Nath.

  “And you’re disgusting, Nath,” he spat over his shoulder. “The paper’s love the idea of the first gay monarch in two hundred years, but they’ll be disappointed when they see you're dating a commoner.”

  “Green doesn’t suit you.”

  Will laughed lightly and said, “you know if Evan really knew you he’d run, so think twice before you push the only person that’ll tolerate you away.”

  Nath’s face was unreadable. “I’d sooner spend my life alone than with you, and if you don’t apologise to Evan for that shit you pulled the other night you can forget ever speaking to me again.”

  Will’s pupils flickered with something dangerous and unreadable. “No idea what you're on about. I never touched him. There’s not a mark on him.”

  “You may not have been invited to my charity event, but Evan was,” said Nath.

  Evan was drowning in confusion and the certainty that Will was trying to tell him something.

  Will’s full lips parted, magic crackled in tangerine glimpses. For a moment his guard dropped and Evan saw raw emotion. “No idea what you’re on about, Nath.”

  “Once you’ve handed in your assignments, come to me if you wish to book a one-on-one to discuss your progress,” Flint called over the class, bright-blue eyes lingering on Nath.

  “Have it your way,” said Nath, anger infiltrating his voice. “You don’t deserve forgiveness.”

  Will’s face shadowed and he turned his dead gaze on Evan. “I’m sorry, Evan,” voice uncomfortably soft. “Weird that you weren’t hurt.” The look could cut diamonds; he smelled of smoky suspicion and curses.

  “Apology accepted,” said Evan. Not.

  “Nath, can we talk?” Will asked, voice barely above a whisper.

  “No,” he replied, turning his attention to his research notes.

  A thousand expressions crossed Will’s face as though he were debating saying something he shouldn’t. His icy stare raked Evan said it all, what does he see in you?

  ∞∞∞

  The finals arrived and Evan felt sick to his stomach. He’d given up researching new techniques, deeming them a waste of time and instead chose to wing it. His mind reeled with Nath’s reassurances that even if his power was exposed, he would be fine. He had to remind himself on more than one occasion that this was just for fun, but it was beginning to feel more than that.

  “One elimination left. We can do this,” said Cass, face taught and red. The telltale haunting grayness of many a sleepless night shadowed her face but her eyes were alive in the face of competition. “Being trained and getting to compete internationally will be amazing!”

  “Yep, I hear Dulcatt said the two with the lowest scores will rematch,” said Evan, eyes drifting over the restless crowd. The chamber hummed with magic; residue frosted every surface with silver.

  “So smash them first round,” said Cass, sinking into a lunge.

  The first fight was between Blaise and Andrew. The audience had swollen to twice its usual size, rumbling with anticipation and waving banners of their favorites. Despite the rabble, Evan’s found his prince at the front; his smile dissolved the room leaving only the two of them. Movement caught his eye, snapping him out of the trance as Will brushed past the prince and loitered at the end of the row.

  Hand drop.

  Without hesitation, Blaise threw a dagger-like shard of ice forged by magic at Andrew, but his friend was prepared. He threw up a fist and the shard shattered before it hit home. A violent tundra roared, blanketing the room in bitterness. Frost spread across the floor forming a sheet of deadly black ice. Andrew slipped, he flung out his arms shattering the ice bringing Blaise to the floor moments before he himself fell. The crowd roared, the chamber warmed and the fresh smell of winter filled the air.

  Evan clapped with the crowd and watched Cass take her position. She scanned the crowd, baring a look of anxiety, and that’s when he realised Jeremiah was missing. Again.

  The battle of air and earth was tumultuous, Cass’s botanical abilities were easily disregarded by the force of an aeromancer. He, however, was having no problem spinning her in a vortex.

  Evan cringed, motion sickness enveloping him to the point he needed to sit down as she hit the ground with a resounding thud. Evan’s stomach sank, she was in fourth place and likely facing rematch. Cass was a favourite, and the crowd roared with disapproval, pregnant clouds of silver swirled high over the ceiling in an emotional storm of magic.

  Evan found himself entangled in a vicious net of dread as he faced Blaise, smirk toying with his lips. The curtain would fall on a good show.

  Dulcatt’s hand fell and a great sheet of ice spread beneath their feet. Evan bent his knees grounding himself. Magic came to life blooming warmth through his veins protecting him from the frostbitten air. His hands clamped into fists and he channeled a refraction of light at Blaise. He dodged with confident ease, moving with complete confidence in his element. Evan tried again but Blaise threw up a wall of ice and the bolt refracted. Evan ducked and it shot over his head, striking the back wall with unsettling force.

  “I could stand here and watch you take yourself out, but where’s the fun in that?” Blaise laughed.

  Frustration burned like the desert; magic could only be used in intensive bursts for so long before the wielder tired. Evan raised his arms and Blaise threw up a barrier expecting another orb, but nothing happened.

  Blaise's face broke in a shark-like grin. “How shit can you be?”

  But that wasn’t Evan’s intention, it was his decoy. Magic rippled the air and a magical haze set about smelling of incense and smoky hollows. He reached out pushing with all his might, the very tips of his power’s tendrils plucking at the right spot.

  Blaise’s laughter died and he bent double, knees locking together.

  The crowd fell silent watching his face purple, bushy eyebrows slashing a frown.

  Evan’s smile ignited; he raised his hands like he would throw another orb.

  Blaise reacted; an ice ball homed Evan like a heat-seeking comet, hissing like a cobra and staining the atmosphere blue.

  He raised his hands, magic filling his fingers as it collided. Blood spurted from his palms but the curse rebound, striking Blaise in the stomach with half-force. It was more than enough. A horrible groan and Blaise collapsed to the floor wearing a look of sheer mortification. His hands immediately clamped under his , but Evan didn’t watch the rest, he buried his hands in his cloak wiping the blood off. Magic coursed his veins and as ridiculous as he felt being the only competitor in a cloak, he needed it. His skin was glimmering iridescent shades of magic only very rare gifts produced.

  The crowd roared and a little group surrounded Blaise. Several of his friends drew back and Dulcatt ordered them away immediately.

  A break was called and Evan, shaking with adrenaline and disbelief, sat down beside Cass. She looked like she’d downed 90 mugs of coffee.

  “Evan you were awesome! You scored 150/200!” Cass beamed, seizing his arm and pulling back his sleeve. Her eyes fell on the wounds, minimal and crusted with dried blood. Evan dragged his arm away burying it
in his cloak.

  “I-I brought ointment with me. I bruise like a banana,” he lied.

  “That’s more than just a bruise, Evan,” said Cass, a look of suspicion crossed her face.

  “It’s Grandma’s Formula: Anti-septic Magical Solution,” he spewed the lie his mum came up with years ago.

  “They need bandages.”

  “I’ll keep pressure on them, they’ll be fine until the end,” he flashed a quick smile.

  Cass shrugged but the suspicious clouds didn’t dissipate until Dulcatt called her and Blaise to the final round.

  Blaise took to the stage in a completely different pair of jeans, ferocity scoring his face with lines.

  Cass wiped the floor with him. “Your snow is water for my earth.”

  The results read as: Blaise: 135 points, Cass: 120 points, Finnian: 125 points, Evan: 150 points, Andrew 150 points and Beatrice with 110 points.

  Evan and Andrew went to battle; it was far easier than duelling Blaise. Andrew was easily distracted and became panicked. His forehead began streaming with sweat. Evan threw up his hands like he was orbing; Andrew’s magic seized the residual clouds high in the air and brought them down in a blinding flurry of silver so intense Evan’s mind went numb.

  “Fuck this,” he hissed, flung out his magic and watched Andrew collapse in a pile of his own puke.

  The crowd's screams assaulted his ears and the smell of spent spells was overpowering.

  Magic rose inside him, thrashing a tempest. The wounds from earlier vanished under Evan's supercharged energy. His hands shook hysterically, teeth chattering as he closed his cloak and drew up the hood shielding the golden glow beneath his skin; he choked on the bookish taste of spells. Dizziness swept him into the victory pen and the haze disappeared. But Evan's match was soon forgotten in wake of the next.

  Finnian dropped like a stone to Blaise, burned out from overuse of his magic.

  The university erupted as the names of the victors spelled themselves across the ceiling in great loopy ribbons. The air was static and tasted of sweet victory.

  Evan got to his feet as Cass threw her arms around him.

  “We did it!” she shrieked, throwing herself at out-of-breath Jeremiah. “This is so amazing! So amazing!”

  “Our U of AMP dueling team!” Dulcatt’s voice boomed over the crowd. “Andrew Winniken, Cassidy Ikenna, Evan Ravenway and Blaise Atlantis.”

  The stress of the past few weeks melted like summertime ice cream and Evan sighed enormously with relief.

  Nath fell into Evan’s lips. People turned to stare in excitement, some open-mouthed. “Congratulations!”

  Evan’s hood had fallen back and his cheeks were on fire; he was laughing and breathless, heart beating a tattoo in his chest. Servants brought offerings and music filled the chamber with celebration. “How the hell did I make this team?” he asked.

  “Because you’re brilliant,” Nath’s smile nearly brought Evan to his knees. “Tell me all about your techniques later, but for now we must celebrate.”

  They went over to Cass, among a group of her friends. They all stood stock-still and pink -cheeked at the sight of the prince. “Well done, Cass. Excellent show,” he shook her hand.

  The girls exchanged glances and scooted away giggling.

  Cass glared at them. “Thanks, Your Highness. Are you two going public now?” she asked, grinning between them.

  “We weren’t a secret, but we aren’t media public until I introduce Evan to my family,” said Nath.

  Evan was scarlet and smiling so hard his face hurt.

  “So you’re a gentleman,” said Cass wearing impress like an empress. “You have my blessing. Defile as you please,” she gestured to Evan.

  “Cass!”

  Nath was rocking that flushed-maid look, and tried to hide a smile. “Thank you.”

  Chapter 18

  Summons burst through his window in a shower of purple sparks that looked like fantasy ignited. Evan dressed to impress and was greeted outside the east wing by the prince himself. Nath kissed his hand and showed him into a beautiful private lounge for afternoon tea.

  Isabelle, the curly-haired maid, arrived in a flourish of curtsies and tea trolleys. Nath thanked and dismissed her, earning Evan a curious look. She disappeared wearing a whisper of a smile.

  “Champagne?” he asked, popping the cork and pouring Evan a flute.

  Evan took it with a smile as Nath began bombarding him with finger sandwiches of: spiced smoked salmon, honey ham, chicken, tender lamb, and beef. Tarts flourished on platters from the royal bakers; glazed tarts stuffed with fresh, fat strawberries, fluffy meringues lighter than air, and speckled with zesty curls of sugar-dusted orange, croissants heaped and oozing golden loveliness, thick slices of Genoa cake (the best kind; without peel), sticky Belgian buns, and steaming pots of tea.

  “The food here is the best I’ve ever had. You need to stop feeding me, my trousers are too tight,” said Evan, picking up a strawberry tart.

  Nath laughed. “Are you sure that’s from the food?” he asked, eyes twinkling.

  Evan almost choked.

  Their talk became increasingly flirtatious, fueled by sugar and champagne. Nath tempted Evan to the plush sofa stretching before the sprawling windows; rain sheeted the grass, spraying the ground with a curious grey mist. His kisses tasted of honey and cherries. Evan’s lips moved hungrily down his neck, popping the seconds and third buttons of his silk shirt and running his hands over the taught muscle beneath.

  “The windows,” Nath whispered.

  “Nobody out there in that weather,” said Evan, pressing delicate kisses to every inch of exposed skin. Nath’s sighs were like whispered love letters. Arousal drummed his veins in rhythm with the downpour; the windows were blanketed by a waterfall of blessings. “Your body is fucking gorgeous,” he panted, popping more buttons losing himself in Nath’s smell. Nervous excitement bubbled his belly as he kissed his way down Nath's navel. His lips reached the top of his trousers , bumping a bladed hip, skin turning musky with arousal. His thumb popped the top button and down went the zipper. Nath tensed and sat up a little, eyes wide.

  “Shall I stop?” Evan’s head bobbed up, anxiety rising. After what happened with Will he hoped he hadn’t gone too far too soon.

  “No, don’t,” Nath said huskily. He lay back, propping up on his elbows, watching Evan’s fingers hook his belt loops and with painful slowness he shifted Nath’s trousers down exposing magnificently tented black boxers and more creamy skin. Evan’s mouth watered, marveling him. His thumb brushed something taught and ridged on his right thigh.

  Nath bolted upright.

  “What’s wrong?” Evan asked, confusion misting his face. He traced the ridges again and Nath nearly exposed his obvious magnificence trying to keep it covered. “I don’t mind if you’ve got a scar, I still want to touch you.”

  Nath’s face flooded with pink, arousal swirling in his pupils, but fear struck its match as he said, “it might.”

  Horny, muddled, and brimming with anxiety Evan said, “I don’t understand.”

  A million things were said in that one look. Slowly, Nath relaxed to the deafening storm. His swallow was audible when Evan’s fingers slipped beneath his underwear, tracing the scar.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” said Nath. Thunder tumbled overhead and a stark flash of lightning cast the windows in a brilliant white before collapsing back into darkness.

  Evan was calm as he revealed a vicious bite scar threaded with glistening trails of scarlet. His heart froze. Their eyes met and he understood everything.

  Nath’s face was wet with tears, fingers clenching the sofa and skin pale as the full moon. “Please don’t tell anyone, Evan,” he said, trembling. “I understand if you don’t wish to see me anymore, but I hope you respect me enough to keep my secret.”

  Shocked was an understatement, Evan’s eyes shifted from the glistening bite to Nath’s terrified, blanched face. “I don’t understand,” h
e frowned.

  “I have lycanthropy,” said Nath.

  At that moment a lot of things made sense. His insides seized at the thought of Nath: infectious and terrified. “Was it Will?”

  Nath’s face was bathed in confusion. “No.”

  Tension crackled in winks of navy. The severity of the conversation dawned, not just about their relationship, but about the country. This was bad. Werewolves were blacklisted to life in the wilderness away from society, and combined with the recent attacks, it didn’t look good for their species at all. He gazed down at Nath’s fear-riddled face and his heart melted. Nath wasn’t the monsters of folklore and newspaper horror, he was generous, clever, charming and incredibly kind. He was the brilliant guy he’d fallen head over heels for; the guy who wrote his name in the stars.

  “Then perhaps,” said Evan said, wetting his lips. “You’ll tell me the full story when we’re done.” Nath’s gasp when he took him into his mouth made his knees fucking collapse.

  ∞∞∞

  Sprawled on the sofa, blood pounding with endorphins, Evan had never felt so wonderful. “That was fucking amazing,” he grinned, head spinning.

  Nath’s angelic face loomed above wearing dimples and a rosy flush.

  His jeans were pooled around his ankles but he made no move to lift them. Now that he was coming down from Nath’s fantastic blow job, the room crackled with unanswered questions.

  “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” Nath said, bracing himself.

  “How did this happen to you?”

  “You know the story of Artemis and Undermouth?” he said, reaching over and taking Evan's hand.

  Evan nodded.

  “I was the collateral damage. In the days Governor Undermouth was a counselor for my dad, he and Artemis tried to overturn many laws protecting the interdimensional magic and diverting all tax directly into the palace treasury. He believed we should dominate both dimensional worlds and turn the non-magical one into a wasteland for our monsters, freaks, traitors, and experiments. It’d be our dumping ground, essentially. Dad didn’t like that, it was a betrayal of everything he stood for. His opposition turned Artemis and Undermouth against him and they rallied rebel forces among those banished and imprisoned in Wales- what was quickly becoming the Dead Country. A plot was made to put Artemis on the throne. You see, a warlock monarch would lead a new age of cursed experiments and black magic,” said Nath. He took a pause, stroking the back of Evan’s hand with his thumb.