Page 28 of Court of Winter

“Not stronger than mine.”

My jaw dropped. “So you truly have an illusion affinity too? You weren’t just glamouring my hair?”

“I have several affinities,” he said, still looking at the bruises on my neck. His jaw began to tick.

So itwastrue. The crown prince of the Winter Court had been blessed with multiple affinities. “What else can you do?”

His eyes shuttered, and his expression turned impatient. “I believe I asked you a question.”

I fingered my throat. The skin was still sore but not as tender as it had been a few days ago. “I wouldn’t call him a creep, my prince.”

One of the prince’s eyebrows rose, yet the tension in his shoulders remained. “So you were a willing participant when it happened?”

“I didn’t say that. I just said I wouldn’t call him a creep.”

The prince frowned as the aura off him rose. “Then what did you mean?”

“I meant that Vorl isn’t a creep. He’s a bully.”

The prince stilled. “So he forced himself on you?”

I glanced away, unable to meet his penetrating stare. “He forced himself on me numerous times.”

In a movement too quick for me to see, the prince’s fingers enclosed my chin, and he jerked my head in his direction. “He raped you?”

I jolted back, breaking the contact as a thousand nerve endings came alive within me from that single touch. “I never said that.”

“Then what did you mean?” he growled, his voice low and deep and rippling with barely leashed power.

I shivered at the absolute menace rolling off him. “I meant that he forced himself on me in other ways but not inthatway.”

The prince’s jaw ground together. “Explain.”

“I...he...Vorl’s bullied me since I was a child,” I said in a rush. “Pushing me around, tripping me, hitting me on occasion when others weren’t looking, but his favorite pastime was choking me. He loved that one the most. That’s why I have bruises.”

The prince’s jaw locked even tighter, and that brewing power within him rippled out across the water, causing small waves to lap against the cave’s walls. “And he did this regularly?”

My brows drew together as I recalled how many times over the seasons Vorl had bullied me, belittled me, tortured me, hurt me. I finally gave a swift nod.

The prince’s nostrils flared, and he ran a hand through his hair. The movement made his bicep bulge and his wings flex. I tried not to notice, tried to stop my attention from shifting to that gesture, and tried to stop from noticing how incredibly thick all of his limbs were. The male was pure muscle. Everywhere. And it wasn’t the bulky type that some males had who tried to increase their build. It was the type that came from a naturally powerful frame with muscles that had been honed from actual combat and use.

“I wasn’t sure what the reasoning was behind your bruises when I first saw you,” he finally said, his words like ice. “So I didn’t ask. But if I’d known that archon had done that maliciously to hurt you, I would have—”

“You knew it was Vorl?” I blurted out, then remembered how the prince had glanced at my throat and then to Vorl back in the barn. “But how?”

The prince took a deep breath as his aura still pounded out of him. “Illusions leave residual magic. When a fairy with an illusion affinity casts their magic, it leaves a mark, like a flavor or calling card. If you’re in tune enough with your affinity, you can pick up on that mark and track what fairy did it. The magic woven around your neck has a very distinct mark that was tied directly to that archon.”

“Oh.” I shook my head, stunned. “I had no idea.”

“It’s not something fae like to advertise. When one’s illusion mark is able to be identified, it can be embarrassing. Only fae with stronger illusion affinities are able to see through the illusion of a weaker fairy.”

“Meaning you can see through Vorl’s illusions, but he can’t see through yours because your affinity is more powerful than his?”

“Correct.”

The prince didn’t elaborate. Anger still swirled in his eyes, and his strumming aura kicked up another notch, causing a second round of ripples to shoot across the pool.

Seeing as how the prince didn’t seem inclined to say anything further, I asked, “So . . . why did you think this wasn’t done maliciously?” I gestured toward my bruises.