The man launched himself out of the tree and straight at my head. I turned to protect my face and knocked to the ground.

“Get off me!”

What I thought was a feeble old one shoved my head into the dirt and held it there. “Calm down. This will take but a moment.”

“Let go! You’ll hang for this! My father will have your head!” I arched my back. “Release me!”

I tried to get a hold of one of his limbs, but he was surprisingly strong and heavy for someone who appeared so frail.

The man yanked the back of my shirt lower and sighed. “Underdeveloped.”

Panicking, I threw my elbow toward his head. “Get off!”

“The potential is there but stifled,” he said in a sour tone. His finger ran along the mark at the base of my neck.

“You’re fucking crushing me! Get off!”

The weight lifted off my legs, and I crawled out from under him. I spun around and stared at a middle-aged fae with black hair that came to his shoulder and a short beard. However, he had the same ragged ears as the old man.

“You’re—we did he? You’re a shapeshifter.”

The man smiled and knelt at my feet. “I play with time a bit. Only my own.”

Glaring at him, I pulled my shirt tight around my neck. “How dare you touch me? You’ve assaulted a prince of Thaloria!”

He grabbed my face and squeezed my cheeks. “The gods touched you. That is an immense privilege for an eternal. Not all have it. Your sister doesn’t, your father doesn’t, and yet you’ve done nothing with your gift. To me, that is an assault on the gods’ good intentions.”

I pried his hand off. “What gift? There is no gift.” I clambered to my feet and dusted off my clothes. “Living for eternity on the whims of mortals, that’s our gift. The gods gave us nothing else.”

The man stood, and I could see his full size. I backed up until I hit a thick branch, and the fae closed the gap.

“You shouldn’t be here, young prince.” He shook his head. “It’s a waste.”

“This is my home. If your—” I looked to the palace. “You’re my father’s guest and have assaulted his son. Even mortals have better manners, but maybe fae—”

His hand went to my neck. “Don’t worry, I’ve already sent for someone to take you home.” He sighed. “He’ll be as displeased as me about your current state. Has your mother taught you nothing? I know your young, but a man of your bloodline has no excuse. She’s failed—”

I slammed my fist into his jaw with every ounce of strength in my body. His head snapped to the side, and he released his hold. The man rubbed his face before smiling.

“Never speak ill of my mother.”

His smile grew. “I like that. I like it.” He stepped back and folded his arms. “I was hoping you’d take after her. I shouldn’t have doubted. This is hope.”

“Who the hell are you?”

Lifting a finger, he shook his head. “I can’t tell you because you’ll run inside and tell her.”

“I don’t need a name,” I replied sharply. “If she knows you, a description of tonight's event would be enough.”

“Hmm…” He rubbed his chin. “I probably should have stayed as my older self.”

“Tell me your name, and we’ll make it simple for everyone.”

He laughed. “No, no. It’s more entertaining for me if I don’t. You’ll learn it later, and it will keep our beloved Queen Arbela guessing.” He gave me a dramatic bow. “I’ll await our reunion.”

“Prince Alric,” called a voice. “Your grace, you must come inside. Prince Alric.”

The man shot me a smirk. “Your nanny is calling.”

“Nanny,” I said in disgust. I glared at him with as much disdain as I could muster. “You’re demented, clearly sick in the head. I hope the gods curse your bloodline so it runs dry.”

“They already did,” he laughed. “I’ve had too many people inflicting that exact curse, so it was bound to happen.”

The brush rustled. “Prince Alric.”

I turned and opened my mouth to tell her to summon the guards, but when I went to point at the man, he was gone. The maid spotted me with my hand still hovering in the air. I dropped it to my side and faced her.

“Prince Alric, please come inside.”

I nodded. “I—I was coming.”

“Please.” She bowed slightly and held out her arm.

I walked past her.

“Oh dear, did you fall?” She examined my appearance. “Are you hurt?”

“No, just a little dusty,” I breathed.

“Where are your shoes?” The maid shook her head. “The queen has asked you not to run about the garden this late at night.”

“I needed to clear my head.”

We entered the palace, and I headed for my room.

“I’ll send someone up to collect your clothes and prepare a bath. Another tray of food has been brought. The other had grown cold.”

“Thank you,” I breathed.

I pushed open the door to my room and went to the mirror. My hair was half fallen out, and my face was smeared with dirt. I glanced at the door before turning around and pulling my stretched-out shirt lower down the back. It was a mark given to me at birth by the gods. My mother told me it was a great honor to receive one and to keep it covered. She had shown me her mark once, and only once. 

There was a knock on the door. 

I adjusted my clothes. “You may enter.”

A maid bowed and led two young men carrying a metal pot into my bathroom. The cold water turned on, and I heard the hot water being dumped into the tub. The two men left to get more. I moved to the bathroom door to find the maid stirring it. 

“Do you need any help, your grace? Someone to wash your hair, perhaps?”

I shook my head. “No, I had an incident with a tree. I just need to wash off, so I’ll be fine.”

She nodded. “If you could change, your grace, I can take your dirty clothes with me to get washed.”

I nodded and went to retrieve my robe. I went behind my curtain and undressed. The amount of dust coming off them was unpleasant. It wasn’t the first time I had been knocked to the ground. I put on my robe and tied the sash before going to stand by the balcony door to wait.

The men returned, and soon after, the maid emerged with them. She gathered my clothes.

“It’s ready for you, your highness.” She bowed and closed the door behind her.

I scratched at the base of my neck, feeling bits of dirt gather under my nails. Why did he want to see my mark? It wasn’t anything special. If anything, I had been mocked for it. My older cousins said that the god didn’t touch me, but some fae had carved into my skin. Well, it was a fae who had thrown me into the dirt so he could take a look at it. They might be closer to the truth than my mother's version.

Taking a deep breath, I went to the bathroom and dropped my robe. I stepped into the water and sat on the edge for a moment. If it had been carved into my skin, wouldn’t it feel more like a scar? I rubbed the base of my neck to confirm again that it was smooth. Cursing to myself, I slipped into the water and dunked myself. Emerging, I wiped the muddy water away from my eyes. 

I’d tell my mother everything that happened in the morning. It sounded like she knew the man. Lying my head back, I closed my eyes and tried to push all my thoughts away. The mark on my back was itching. I was being too aware of it. Most of the time, I forgot that it was even there—until someone pointed it out.

My hand traveled from my shoulder to my neck, running around the front before returning to the section of skin at the base.

“He was a crazy shapeshifter,” I muttered. “He’ll be killed once they catch him. It means nothing.”

Dunking my hair under, I scrubbed out the rest of the dirt before rising to my feet. I grabbed the towel that was sitting on a stand and dried off. I put my robe back on and used another towel for my hair. Returning to my bedroom, I sat at a small table with a tray and removed the metal lid. 

The food smelled good. I wondered if this was what they were eating at the feast. I went for the bottle of wine first and filled my glass. I ate what looked appealing and filled my glass for the third time before rising from my seat.

Sipping from my cup, I wandered to the vanity and looked at myself for a moment. I sat and placed my cup on the vanity so I could comb out my hair. Once finished, I gathered the stands and put them behind my shoulder. I continued to stare at my reflection. 

The mark was annoying me with its presence—it might as well have been on fire. I dropped my robe down my arms and turned around. Moving my hair to the side, I examined the same mark I had my entire life. It was a mixture of swirled and straight lines leading to the outline of a diamond. The one thing that made me think it couldn’t be the work of a fae slicing open infants was it was gold and flush with the surrounding skin. It was still small and insignificant, in my opinion. I pulled my robe back into place and tightened the sash.

And that was precisely the reason I kept it hidden.