Gentry was very close to slapping the next person who approached him. The entire kingdom couldn't keep their mouths shut and it was driving him to his last nerve. They were all so concerned with his decision for a consort, shoving the next available male in his path without as much as a thought of his preference. He understood the urgency in the matter—Goddess knows he did—but choosing a consort wasn't something that could be taken lightly. The fate of the fae rested in his decision and what a burden to place on the shoulders of a young man.

The young prince's eyes drifted over the golden, oiled expanse of the young fae's back as he watched him strip his robe off, but his wings did not flutter and the man simply did not call to him.

"It's not him," Gentry told his advisor, Besaba, who gave an exasperated groan. It was the fifth male this week that he turned down. The courts were starting to get restless. Next thing for sure, there would be a swarm of young fae at the castle gates hoping for a chance to be appraised by the prince.

Gentry let out a sigh.

"Are you sure, my prince?" Besaba pressed, wings flapping anxiously as she stared deep into his eyes.

Gentry nodded his head and turned away.

He was draped elegantly on a chaise with a sea foam green chiffon robe and nothing else. He was the epitome of beauty and evoked the deepest desires from even the most unlikely of victims. It was no surprise that he was beautiful, as all fae are, but he held a certain beauty that challenged their entire species.

He was small, as most fae were, but he was slender with smooth pink skin and lavender locks that shimmered like tinsel waving down to his waist. His cheekbones were high and lips were quaint, but full. His eyes were graceful as they slanted heavily in their almond shape, but they were big, exposing those beautiful green, magenta, and cerulean tricolored eyes. Each color blended with the other in subtle rings. Only true royals were gifted with tricolored eyes, it was a symbol for exponential beauty and power.

And when he willed them, he had golden iridescent wings that shimmered in the light of his power that were absolutely magical.

But even as beautiful as he was, he still had yet to find a consort.

As the last fae left, Besaba fluttered to Gentry's side.

"Prince Gentry, if you aren't pregnant before the Yule, the fates could shift and destroy the fae. You have to pick a consort soon."

"Do you think I'm stupid or something? I know that already! But a consort is Goddess chosen and not one of the horny butt humpers that you've sent has been worthy!" Gentry snapped, eyes blazing.

The young prince was known not only for his beauty but for his snappy attitude and sassy remarks. It made some of the fae uneasy around him, but he was royal and they were not, so their opinions did not matter. It was as simple as that.

Besaba bowed deeply in apology, "I did not mean to imply so, my prince."

Gentry snorted and turned away, looking out at the massive waterfall that was so close he could touch it. The dewy air forced the thin fabric of his robe to cling to his skin, defining what lay beneath it in the most provocative of ways.

"Should I—" Besaba started but Gentry raised a hand and cut her off.

"Get out of my sight and send for Han."

Besaba nodded quickly before scurrying out of the room. Only a few minutes later did the grand door creak open and a strong, handsome fae enter.

Hans was one of the royal warriors with a body to prove it. He was roped with thick muscles beneath pale green skin. His hair, a very deep green, was cut short and sleek which only emphasized his sharp, powerful features. He was definitely a beauty to behold and there was not one day past that Gentry didn't wish he was his fated consort.

Han gave the prince a goofy grin.

"You sure know how to shake the boots of any fae," the warrior laughed, approaching the chaise where Gentry laid. The prince pouted up at him and feigned hurt innocence.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Han smirked, flicking the prince's forehead.

He was probably the only one in the entire court who could get away with something like that. Not even the King and Queen were so lucky. Han plopped down on the chaise beside Gentry, who curled around the bigger man, draping a naked leg over the both of Han's.

"They keep pestering me, as if it's my own choice. I can't help it if none of the men they offered are my chosen. It's not up to me, it's up to the Goddess. So pressuring me isn't helping anyone!" Gentry huffed, clutching on the bands strapped along the warrior's bare chest.

"They're just worried. Everyone is. No one blames you. The Goddess has a reason for it all and in the end, everything will work out. It always does."

"But Yule is in four months. How am I supposed to find my consort and get pregnant by then?" Only to Han did Gentry express his deepest fears. It was obvious that he was just as worried as everyone else. What if it was his fault his consort hadn't shown up and the destruction of the fae was his responsibility? He'd be condemning an entire species.

"You're doubting the Goddess. Don't," Han soothed, running his large hands along the tiny waist of the fae Prince.

Gentry shivered under the touch, willing his body not to respond. Han was aware of the prince's feelings for him, but he made it very clear that unless he was Gentry's chosen consort, he would not cave in to the prince's seductions. It made Gentry weak with sorrow. How could his most beloved not be his fated consort?

"I'm afraid."

"Of what, Gentry?"

"Of him. What if...no love comes to grow? What if he hates me or I him? We would be forever doomed in a relationship built on deceit and loathing!"

"And what if you come to love each other so much, the mere thought of being apart would physically hurt?" Han countered.

Gentry hissed, narrowing his eyes in anger. "You know I will never love another the way I love you."

Han narrowed his own emerald eyes, "You cannot love me. I am not your fated and there could never be a future with us."

Gentry's eyes watered.

He heard this before.

They've had this argument several times and it always put a rift in their friendship as well as a tension in the air that made it so much harder for the young prince to breathe.

"Don't say that, Han. I love you. I will never stop loving you!"

Han yanked away from Gentry sharply. His expression stony and distant. Without another word he left the room with Gentry staring after him, robe disheveled, hair messy, and the beginning of tears in his eyes.

Gentry wanted to scream.

He wanted to cry.

He wanted to curse the Goddess.

But he couldn't, because he had a duty and that duty was slowly killing him inside.