I swallow, regretting my decision not to tell him about my lack of experience. But it's too late now. "Sure, let's do it."

He grins and makes a clicking sound, gently nudging his horse on the side. He picks up speed, so I copy him and Diamond begins to trot, then run. I grip her body with my knees, my knuckles holding on to the leather strap so hard I fear I'll break it. But I don't fall off. We ride fast down the path and through the woods until I begin to hear the sounds of people. Fen slows to a trot, then a walk as we reach a lumberyard. An area of trees has been cleared and piles of trunks line the grass. A machine that reminds me of a giant pizza cutter sits in the center, covered in black smoke. Men are scattered throughout the clearing, talking, pacing, drinking. Not working. There are no women, which I find odd. In fact, there are only male vampires, from what I can tell. Not a Fae or Shade amongst them.

They all turn in unison to face us, and I try not to embarrass myself as I dismount Diamond. "Thanks girl," I whisper into her ear. "You made me look good. I owe you a treat when we get back."

Fen, who apparently overheard me, gives me a lopsided grin and hands me an apple. I hold it out to Diamond, who wraps her large, soft horse lips around it and chomps it up.

A big, brawny man in flannel with a bushy red beard stomps up to Fen, two men flanking him. He's frowning. "We're done!" he says. "No man can work in conditions like this."

Fen crosses his arms over his chest. "You're not exactly men, are you?"

The man glares. "No demon neither."

"Where is Henrick?" Fen asks.

"I'm over here, Sir."

We both turn in the direction of the voice. Henrick lies on a wooden table under a tarp, his leg propped up and bandaged. His hair is blue and a black tattoo covers half his neck. Fen strides over to him. "What happened?"

"The wood cutter jammed. When I tried to clear it, the damn thing exploded on me. My leg is pretty ripped up."

"We'll get you patched up." Fen signals to several of the men standing around. "Take him to Navia in Stonehill. Tell her I sent you. He's to receive the best care, understood?"

"Yes, Sir," the men say.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Henrick says. He's far too pale and his jaw clenches in pain as he tries to talk. "We were already behind in production. There's no way we'll make the deadline before winter hits."

Fen nods sharply, but offers no other words. I walk over and lay a hand on Henrick's. "Just take care of yourself and heal. The rest will sort itself out. It always does."

Henrick looks startled by my touch. For that matter, so does Fen, but once again he chooses not to contradict me in front of others. Interesting. I'm sure we'll have a lively conversation about things later, once we're alone.

Just thinking about being alone with him makes my skin hot. I played it cool, acting like seeing him naked and touching his body didn't affect me. But lord, that was my biggest lie ever told. I can't get the image of that man out of my head. Or the feel of him off my skin. His scent alone makes me want things I shouldn't want. I still have to live with six other princes. I can't fall for Fen, not now. And besides, he's made it clear he has no desire to be King. He doesn't even want me to pick him. I'm setting myself up for heartbreak if I give my heart to a man who doesn't want it.

The men place Henrick on a cot on wheels and attach it to a horse, then begin guiding him slowly to town.

Fen faces those who remain. "We have a fortnight or two until winter hits. Once that happens, we will not be able to harvest trees until spring thaws the land. This wood needs to be used for fire, heat, cooking, and building, throughout the entire kingdom. It is our primary export. If we don't meet our quota, people everywhere will suffer. Now get back to work and make it happen. I'll take a look at the machine, but if I can't fix it right now, then cut and sort wood by hand like we did before my brother invented the cutter. In the meantime, I'll talk to Ace about potential design flaws."

There are grumbles as Fen walks over to the machine in question. A few men return to their work, using axes to cut the tree trunks into splintered wood or smaller logs. But the men who originally confronted Fen stand and glare at him as he works on the machine. I turn away to scan the rest of the clearing, walking amongst the logs that are piled and ready for distribution, and the trees still needing to be cut. The scent of pine and freshly cut wood fills the air, mixed with something more vinegar-like.

Sunlight filters through the tall canopies of the trees and I walk towards the woods, away from the repetitive sounds of steel hitting wood: chop chop chop. Towards the sound of running water. I'm hoping to find a stream where I can wait while Fen does his work. Something about those men makes me uneasy, and I'm beginning to regret coming with him, but it's important I know what kind of work this realm does. If I'm stuck here for all eternity, I'm going to make it work for me, which means making it better.

My dreams of being a lawyer and helping people that way might be over, but that doesn't mean I can't still affect change in the lives of those around me. And that's just what I intend to do, whether the princes of hell like it or not.

After a bit of searching, I find the stream. I can still hear the men working, but water trickling over rocks muffles the sound. I sit on a boulder in the shade of a sad looking willow tree whose branches extend over the river, dipping into it.

I watch a small red bird jump from rock to rock. This place is peaceful, serene, and—