The Winter Court Series: Prologue
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M. L. Smith
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Cazimir, the sharp-edged Unseelie king, is locked up in the enemy Spring Court, stripped of power and pride. Seraphina, a young princess of the Spring Court, risks everything to set him free.
Are you ready to dive in to the magical world of royal secrets and forbidden desire?
Enjoy this prologue to the epic Winter Court Series Part 1: Fae's Captive, out September 2.
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Chapter 1
TEN YEARS AGO
Cazimir, Unseelie king of the Winter Court, was a damned idiot.
He groaned, straining against the iron cuffs that bound his wrists and kept his arms pulled tightly behind him. His flesh sizzled where the shackles touched, the metal burning and peeling his skin. The iron kept his power contained, trapping him here, in the Spring Court’s dungeon.
Despite Caz’s immense strength, the chains wouldn’t budge.
And it pissed him off.
He had no idea how long he’d been rotting in his enemy’s dungeon, a prisoner because of his own ignorance. Days, at least. Long enough that his brother, Samael, had undoubtedly been notified of his absence.
What a laugh Caz’s little brother would have at his expense when he discovered what fate had befallen him. The Unseelie king, with his reputation for being cold, vindictive, and downright cruel, had been bested by a handful of Spring Court soldiers, who’d likely just finished prancing around a meadow.
His upper lip curled into a snarl, exposing a sharp, pointed canine. Just thinking about the buffoons who had captured him filled him with disgust.
Although he could admit here, in this damp little dungeon, that most of the disgust was aimed at himself.
Caz should have known better than to heed the ramblings of a half-crazy oracle. He should have walked away the moment the crone demanded he cross into Spring territory to save his ‘destiny.’ He’d nearly done it, nearly listened to instinct and dismissed the haggard old woman completely.
But the oracle had been relentless, her voice high and rasping as she warned that his future, and the fate of his kingdom, hung in the balance. Your entire lineage is at risk, she’d wheezed, the words sending an unusual chill down his spine.
So, he’d heeded her advice, riding out under cover of night to the place she’d described. He’d trekked through mountains of snow and ice, guiding his powerful steed through frozen rivers that began to thaw as he neared the Spring Court’s border.
His thoughts had run rampant, his mind so preoccupied deciphering the oracle’s cryptic warning that he hadn’t noticed when the glamour shielding him began to slip.
It was only for a moment—seconds at most—but it was enough. His dark power had fanned out in the woods, sending small creatures fleeing for safety and disturbing the very air around him.
Moments later, Spring soldiers appeared, drawn by the disturbance.
He should have slaughtered them and ridden on. But here in the Spring Court, power ran deep. A strong enough Spring Fae could speak to the trees, to the vines and moss, and within moments, the land itself would betray him. The plants would whisper to their royals that the Unseelie king had ventured into their lands unannounced.
Killing those soldiers would only have caused a war.
So instead, he’d opted for the peaceful route. Unfortunately, that option had led him here.
Now that he’d had ample time to reflect, he could admit the truth. His reckless haste in crossing into enemy territory had less to do with duty and more to do with the Spring queen.
Foolishly, he’d taken the oracle’s words to heart, clinging to the hope that his ‘destiny’ might revolve around the woman who’d held his heart in the palm of her hand for far too long.
Celeste.
Ages ago, he’d fallen in love with the then-Spring princess and had done everything in his power to make her realize that she belonged with him. Celeste had seemed perfect, and such a stark contrast to the simpering Fae who filled her court.
Cold. Calculating. Cruel.
All the makings of Winter Court royalty.
He’d wanted her as his wife and queen. He’d loved her ardently and had been willing to do anything to make her his.
She’d loved him in return. Or so he’d thought. It wasn’t until he’d learned of her marriage to the Spring king, her distant cousin, that he’d understood how little he’d meant to Celeste.
And now, nearly fifty years later, he was in her husband’s dungeon.
Gritting his teeth, Caz shifted forward on his knees, his arms stretching further behind his back as he attempted to rip the chain from the wall using only his body weight. Magic beat a drum in his veins, eager to spill forth and do his bidding.
If only it could.
He could command shadows, become one with them and disappear, could manipulate ice and snow, could even control Death. And yet he’d become powerless in an instant as the shackles had slipped over his wrists.
Heavy footsteps echoed just outside his cell, dress shoes clacking obnoxiously on the flagstones. Then came the metallic scrape of a key sliding into the lock.
Despite knowing that any guest in his humble new quarters wouldn’t be good, curiosity ate at him.
No one had ventured down here since his capture. Who, exactly, was paying him a visit now?
His heart, that treacherous, damned organ, clenched as Celeste’s face flashed unbidden through his mind. Could it be her? Stooping so low as to visit a former lover rotting in a cell?
A pathetic part of himself hoped so.
The door swung open, torchlight from the hallway illuminating the dark, empty cell.
Caz lifted his head, eyes narrowing in disappointment as Auburn, the Spring king, strode through the doorway. It had been mere decades since their paths had crossed, but it was obvious the king was…eating well.
His gut hung over his brown belt buckle, the seams of his light green tunic straining despite his access to the finest seamstresses in the realm. Curls of light blond hair framed his face, obscuring much of his crown. A neatly trimmed beard covered his lower face, but nothing could hide the smugness of his smile.
Guards flanked him, pressing into the room and standing as still as statues along the nearest wall, hands on the hilts of their swords as they waited on their precious king hand and foot.
It was all so…dramatic.
“I see you’ve been holding up well,” King Auburn said with a deep chuckle, taking a step toward Cazimir’s side of the room. He sighed then, the sound full of contentment. “I never thought I’d see the day when the Unseelie king bowed before me. I rather like it.”
Caz didn’t react, his usual icy mask of indifference firmly in place as he stared at the other king as if he were a bug to be pulled apart and studied.
“Nothing to say, Cazimir?” King Auburn’s smile faltered, the amusement draining from his face and leaving something far uglier in its place. “Or were you hoping to see my dear mate Celeste?”
Caz tensed.
He’d courted Celeste in secret all those years ago. No one was supposed to know about their long-ago love.
“Oh yes,” the king continued with a self-satisfied smile. “I know all about your little infatuation. You have never been subtle, Cazimir. You’ve been the punchline of more than a few jokes in my court.”
Caz bit back a retort, the icy lick of rage beating at his insides.
Even though Celeste had rejected him, he’d never expected she would share a second of their time together with Auburn, let alone her entire court.
He’d kept those private days to himself for decades, holding them close at night when loneliness crept in. And to know she used his most cherished memories to garner laughs from her little band of fairies—the betrayal was almost too much.
A muscle jumped in Caz’s cheek, though he kept silent as the oaf prattled on.
“Celeste is a beauty,” Auburn said, “so I can absolutely understand why you’ve remained so…enamored. She’s nothing like the ogres bred in your frozen court. But my understanding ends the moment you trespass into my territory to chase after her.”
“I did not come here for her,” Caz answered, his voice gruff from disuse. It was impossible for Fae to lie, but in this case, Caz was skirting the truth. The oracle hadn’t stated he needed to infiltrate Spring lands to seek out the queen, so technically, he hadn’t.
Even if he’d hoped she was at the center of the prophecy.
“Do you expect me to believe that?” Auburn spat the question, his plump cheeks reddening in anger. “Only a woman would cause someone like you to lose his senses—to risk the fragile balance between our courts by sneaking into my lands like a common spy. If you did not mean mischief, you would have sent word of your arrival beforehand.”
The male smirked. “But you didn’t. You crept into my lands like a thief in the night, clearly intending to steal something precious from me. And to think I had finally considered helping you manage your court’s little famine issue.”
Caz stilled, beating back an instant denial.
“Have you thought about offering up the mass orgies as a spectacle to neighboring courts?” Auburn purred. “I am sure the Seelie courts would pay good money to see the Unseelie ravaging one another in a frenzied madness.”
Wisely, Caz kept his mouth shut.
For the last several years, the crops within the Unseelie kingdom had withered and died, each harvest yielding little to nothing, though their harvests had once been abundant. But now? His people were starving.
Worse still, on the rare occasion a field produced fruit or grain, consuming it brought on a monstrous affliction. The infection struck cruelly, first driving its victims into a frenzy of uncontrollable lust, compelling them to force themselves on anything that moved. Then came the convulsions, the paralysis—and finally, death.
For the past two years, he’d sent missives back and forth to the other Fae courts, hoping to find an ally to save his people.
Summer and Fall had offered him aid—for a steep price. Fall required an unspeakable payment, while Summer wanted Caz to use his powers as a weapon, unleashing havoc on the court’s enemies. Neither option suited him, though he’d reluctantly chosen Fall’s help—a decision that had weighed heavily on him in recent months.
As for Spring… Well, the Spring Court hadn’t made him an offer.
A shame, really—their magic would have been the most valuable. Royals of the Spring Court could coax life from barren soil with little more than a whisper of power and a gentle touch. To have even one Spring royal set foot in his kingdom and lend their gift to the land… it might be enough to save his people.
It would also keep his brother from committing unspeakable acts on the Unseelie kingdom’s behalf in order to pay the Fall Court.
“No? Perhaps too preoccupied with your own unrequited lust for my queen, dear Cazimir?”
Caz swallowed his fury back down, channeling all his energy into diplomacy. “This is a misunderstanding—”
Auburn tsked. “We both know it isn’t. I’ve had spies monitoring you long enough to know your habits. You’re too calculating to make a mistake like this. Unless, of course, you were thinking with the wrong head, Cazimir.”
“Release me,” Caz snapped, his last attempt at civility gone as the Spring king ridiculed him. “To keep me here will be considered an act of war.”
“An act of war?” Auburn scoffed. “Your armies may be more powerful than mine, but your actions have led us here. If war breaks out among our people, who do you think the other courts will side with? You? Unseelie scum? Or me? A wronged Seelie king only seeking to protect his people?”
Caz narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenching with unmistakable outrage even though he knew Auburn was right. The Winter Court housed all the Unseelie, a division of Fae that the other courts considered unnatural.
Whereas all Seelie Fae were beautiful, most with quaint, dainty powers, the Unseelie were rougher. Harder. The darkest Fae lived within Caz’s lands, simply because they were unwelcome anywhere else.
Not that the Seelie courts were full of kindhearted Fae. Far from it. For all their posturing about goodness and beauty, most Seelie were every bit as depraved as those of the Winter Court—they simply hid it better.
“I’ll release you. Eventually,” King Auburn promised with a sinister smile. He looked at his guards. “Show King Cazimir the hospitality he deserves after his long travels.”
King Auburn was barely out of the door before the first punch landed, striking Caz right in the temple. The guards rained down blows on his head until he fell unconscious, the iron burning into his wrists and stalling the magic that might have helped him heal.
Caz’s last thought as the world dimmed around him was that he would have vengeance. He would wipe out everyone King Auburn held ties to until there was nothing left of his lineage.
Even if it killed him.
