The room fell into silence, yet everyone’s thoughts were bright as day: some of us might never come back from the palace, some of us would say their goodbyes one last time.
“We will leave the night after the ball,” Roxanne interrupted the growing dread that fought for power with the peaceful spirits of the apartment.
“The night after the ball.” Simon’s voice grew stronger when he glanced at Francis, who wouldn’t take his eyes off me.
Chapter 25. Bargains.
Roxanne and Florence rode through the night forest—a few yards before me and Francis—deep in a conversation I tried not to listen to, allowing them privacy. Francis and I did not spill a single word.
I knew he wasn't thrilled about me entering into any agreements with Caleb, yet I was not one to apologize for doing what was helpful. Besides, I hadn’t sought Caleb on my own accord, and truly had forgotten about my bargain with him to ever mention it.
I glanced at Francis as he lit up a pipe in his mouth. His eyes met mine before averting his gaze to our company.
“Cordelia.” Florence turned on her horse to face me. “I have this beautiful purple dress that I think would suit you well. You should try it on when we are home.”
“I would love to.” A small smile turned the corners of my lips upward.
“Perhaps you could wear it to the ball!” Florence beamed. “If you like it, of course,” she added as we rode out of the woods, towards the Bloodlake Castle.
“Thank you, Florence.” I nodded. “And I'm sure I will love it.”
The sunshine smile stretched on Florence’s face before she dismounted her horse, walking into the stables.
I freed Annabelle of the saddle, fighting with the old, rusty belts before carefully setting it at its designated place in the stables. By the time I succeeded, the stables had emptied, leaving Francis as my only company.
He leaned on the threshold, watching my every move. “May I read the letter, Princess?” He murmured.
“No.” I tried to walk past him without sparing him a glance.
Francis chuckled at my reply. “I don’t appreciate you scheming behind my back, love.” He caught my wrist, yanking me to the side until our bodies pressed against each other.
My body caught aflame under his piercing gaze; his eyes darkened, filled with trouble. The kind of trouble my body begged for, the kind of trouble I was eager to entertain.
“I wasn’t scheming.” My voice filled with an unfamiliar mischief. Our faces were inches from each other. “I didn't think he would actually bring us the daggers.”
He crooked his head to one side, a smirk decorating his face. “Then why don't you tell me what’s in the letter?” His lips still carried the drops of blood from the tavern. The red tint bothered my body more than I cared to admit.
“Because, while there is nothing of importance, it would still upset you.” My fingers toyed with the collar of his shirt against my permission—I cared not to move them away.
Francis’ thumb brushed over my chin, lightning erupted in my insides. “I can handle myself,” his voice turned sultry.
“Can you now?” I teased. “You have to trust me, Francis. Unless—” My eyes narrowed on his, watching his reaction to what I was about to propose. “You wish to exchange this letter for the one you wrote for me?”
“What letter?” The crease in between his brows deepened.
