Dante didn’t give a shit about what the princess thought about him. He didn’t care that he could sense the anger rising in her at her assumption that he had a problem with perfects, practically feeling the heat of her body over the space that separated them, burning hotter than that of the fire. But he pictured Marnie’s face, and he couldn’t let anyone, not even this monster, believe he thought perfects to be less-than.

He had overheard his mother tell Carson that once. His brother, his real brother, though they shared no more blood than he did with Blukke. But his parents had adopted Dante when he was a baby, and their son had been his brother no different than if Dante had been born from their mother. Carson wasn’t gifted, though he never held Dante’s powers against him. He had loved him and cared for him. Especially after their parents died. Being twelve years his senior, he was already an adult when they were taken before their time. Dante spent five years with him before he, too, died. Leaving thirteen year old Dante to travel to Hogard alone.

The princess narrowed her eyes. “Are you mocking me?”

Lunin save him, she was unbearable. “No, Princess.” He didn’t hide the annoyance in his tone. “Centuries ago, some poor mother told her child who was upset about having no gifts that that was the reason. Somehow, over the years, it was integrated into our lexicon. At least, that’s what my mother said was how the term originated.”

She looked away from him, focusing on the squirrel in front of her that she seemed hesitant to eat. No matter that he had taken the time to catch and skin and cook it for her. She hadn’t even thanked him. Of course, that was to be expected as she was his prisoner. Yet he was certain she wouldn’t have thanked him even if he wasn’t her captor. He wouldn’t be surprised if those words had never once crossed her lips.

“So you could laugh about how pitiful they were?”

He didn’t know why he bothered. Maybe it was just to prove her wrong. “She was a perfect. As was my brother, who she was speaking to at the time. So no, Princess, we were not denigrating them.”

She blinked at that. Gifts were often hereditary, but it was not at all uncommon for a family to be blended with gifted and perfects. There was no reason for her to be surprised, even without knowing he was adopted. He ignored it and crossed back to the other side of the clearing, putting out the fire that had fulfilled its purpose. He resumed his seat, watching her take the smallest of bites from the squirrel, pressing her hand to her chest as if to help it down her throat.

The sharp corner of the envelope in his pocket poked at him through the fabric of his cloak, reminding him it was there. Now seemed as good a time as any to see what the princess had been up to in the alley last night. He withdrew it, examining the unmarked parchment, before opening it.

He stretched out the folded paper within. The letter was addressed to My Dearest Maria and was signed with no honorifics, simply the princess’s given name, the i dotted with a heart.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The princess had shot up and was already stomping toward him, her hand outstretched. “It is a crime punishable by death to read confidential royal correspondence!” Her face twisted, and he knew she realized how ridiculous it was to say that, given he had already committed a far egregious crime by abducting her.

He rose, holding the paper up, higher than she could reach it, though she still tried. That peach and honeysuckle scent wafted over him as she jumped into him, the orange and grass scent much less pronounced today. He pulled his eyes away from her defeated gaze to read.

I’m sorry.

I apologize for my role in our fight and I apologize for not being able to tell you the contents of this letter to your face. I would be tortured if the news caused you pain, and I would die if you were unaffected. This is all I could bear. I needed you to know before our next appointment.

I’m to be married in two month’s time.

My greatest regret in life will be that I didn’t cherish our time more. That I didn’t kiss you and tell you how much I love you more, especially over these past few months. If I had known then what I know now, I would have never let us grow apart.

Dante stopped reading. The rest was surely more of the same, just a sappy love letter. The love rash on the princess’s neck last night was proof of the insincerity of the words, anyway. Maria, a fae seamstress Dante knew by reputation only, was better off without her if the princess had been in another’s bed just before delivering the letter. He folded the parchment and placed it back in the envelope before offering it to the princess. He had no use for it.

She snatched it from his hand before stalking back to the bed he had made her—another gesture she hadn’t thanked him for—and plopped down.

“Who’s the lucky man?”

The princess only glared at him. Dante considered if this changed anything. Whoever it was, surely, would be another person searching for her. Yet did one more pursuer matter when the might of the entire royal guard would already be charged with finding her? Her and the person responsible for her disappearance. Likely not.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“You’d rather marry her?” he asked, pointing to the letter still clutched in her hand with his chin. “Even though she’s—”

“She’s what?” the princess interjected, that wicked heat emanating from her again. “A woman? A fae? A commoner?” By her defensive tone, Dante considered perhaps she did care for Maria, despite the evidence that she hadn’t been lonely without the woman. She continued, her voice much softer, without waiting for his answer. “Each one alone would have been enough to preclude her from marrying a crown princess.”

There were no laws against marriage between species or of the same sex. But it was different for her, he supposed. She had to produce an heir, and he’d only known of a single occurrence of a successful interspecies breeding, despite his extensive travels. And, of course, no successful breeding between same sex couples. And that commoner issue was just royal bullshit. Dante cocked his head, scanning the princess. It seemed she felt the same. She was unbearable, yes, but perhaps there was more to her than he had first assumed.

“Eat, Princess.”

#

Dante and the princess traveled in the interior of the forest for hours. They only paused to relieve themselves or drink from one of the many clear streams they passed. Despite his insistence that they’d be traveling slowly, he had set a brisque pace at the start, his long legs easily gobbling up the rough terrain. It had lasted less than an hour. Once he bothered to tune into the sounds of the princess, he did her the kindness of slowing. Her labored breathing, pounding heart, and the heated scraping of her inner thighs rubbing together with each step immediately quieted once he did. She didn’t thank him for that either.

When the sun disappeared and the moon rose in its stead, still they continued. Dante only stopped when he heard the first howling of wolves, then found an acceptably covered area to make camp.

He would need to sleep tonight. At least for a few hours. He trusted his hearing to wake him if she tried anything, though he would have preferred to have eyes on her and cursed Blukke for refusing his offer. But the princess hadn’t once attempted to flee, even when he had given her plenty of space and privacy to see to her needs, so he wasn’t too worried. He focused instead on finding them dinner.

The princess had made her distaste for squirrel quite clear, and Dante considered going out of his way to hunt only squirrels. But he had played over their conversation from earlier as they walked. He had to respect her for sticking up for perfects and miths, despite who she was and the atrocities committed against them by her ancestors. He had to respect her for not complaining about their strenuous start, knowing those curvy thighs were likely still sore from that first hour. And he had to thank her for making his job easier by being so compliant, though he certainly didn’t respect her for that. He couldn’t imagine the type of person who was so incapable of surviving on their own that they wouldn’t even attempt to flee the danger he so obviously promised.

So he used his keen eyesight and hearing to find three rabbits. He used his magic to snare them, breaking their necks without even touching them. That’s what his gifts were: tools to hunt and kill. He once shied away from them but had learned to be grateful after Carson’s death. His powers were why he’d been so successful in the Cavs and with Sol. They were why he was still alive. They were why Marnie was comfortable.

He hadn’t strayed far from their camp for the night, and he kept an ear in the direction of the princess the entire time he’d been hunting. He heard her moving about. One time he even heard her walking in the opposite direction. He paused for a moment, listening, ready to go after her, but she had stopped and was rummaging around the brush before he heard her footsteps once again heading back toward their camp.

He released a long breath through his nose, pleased yet bewildered, and did her another favor. Instead of skinning the rabbits back in camp, he did it here. Saving the princess, who claimed to have never taken a life, from having to watch. Even as her hands were already covered with more blood than could ever be cleansed, no matter how vehemently she claimed innocence.

When he arrived back in camp, he built a fire. Though he didn’t think anyone would find them and fires within the forest weren’t uncommon enough that it would be suspicious, he cooked the rabbits quickly and snuffed out the flames upon completion. The nights weren’t yet cold enough that a lack of fire would be a hindrance. Not here, anyway. Once they crossed the Bartoq Mountains, he would have to reassess their nightly routine, but that was weeks away.

“Eat,” Dante said, passing the stick that served as a skewer to the princess.

The princess took the skewered rabbit and ate it much less reservedly than she had eaten the squirrel. When she finished, she extracted a bundled leaf from behind where she sat on the ground, unfurling it to reveal a handful of berries. That, apparently, had been what she’d been doing when she had left the camp while he hunted.

She popped one in her mouth without offering him any.

Dante was across the clearing, a hand on her throat an instant later.

Her skin was softer than the rabbit’s fur he had just skinned. Guilt flickered in him that his hands--so scarred, calloused, and rough--were on such pristine flesh. Less than a heartbeat later, it was gone, replaced by grief as he remembered his parents.

He should have let her eat the berry.

The princess choked, the berry spitting onto his arm positioned just below her mouth as he gripped her throat. He immediately released her, then plucked a berry from the leaf still on the ground, examining it in the moonlight. It was harmless.

The princess placed both of her hands on his chest, pushing him away with much more force than he would have expected from her. “You think I’m daft enough to kill myself with a berry?”

He didn’t answer, just turned his back to her to retake the seat against a thick tree he’d claimed. He lowered the fabric over his mouth to eat. Between the dark and the cover of the rabbit in front of his face, he was certain she wouldn’t be able to identify any of his features. Not that he had plans of letting her have the opportunity to identify him to anyone. Just as with the fire, and other steps he’d taken, it was a precaution. Still, she stared at him intensely as he ate, as if trying to glean any information about who he was, popping those berries into her mouth one by one until they were gone.

Dante finished his rabbit and began on the third one. He didn’t offer to split it with the princess.