“You want me to turn down the Crown Prince in front of the entire court at the Raven Ball? I’m not sure if Mother or Father would kill me first. Motherisoddly light on her feet,” Elysia noted dryly.
Beatriz glared in response. “Then stop the proposal altogether. Break his heart. Smash it all to smithereens and come up with some story. Get pregnant by some commoner for all I care. You’ve grown up in this jungle, now fucking act like it, or you’ll be the king’s most favorite example. His own son’s true love beheaded for the sake of the Crown.” Her words were mocking, but the bite of her fear was true.
Elysia said nothing, made no false promises that she had no idea how to keep.
Beatriz looked at her with pity. “What has woken will not die. But maybe we can stop it.” Her gray eyes doubted even as she spoke. They both knew magic was not so easily killed or hidden. The headless and broken bodies decorating the main square proved it.
“I’m going to that meeting,” Elysia said softly.
Beatriz nodded shortly and stood up to leave. Tight anger cut into her words. “Fine. It’ll be your own fault when they take your head for treason. Imagine that, the crown prince’s betrothed left for the birds in the square.”
And with that, she stalked out the door, slamming it behind her.
Elysia thought she heard her loose a fist into the wall as she stomped down the stairs.
Chapter 8
For the next week,Elysia stayed hidden in her flat, regretting her recent choices and not wanting to face anyone in her life besides Sir Larkspur, who asked for nothing more than his daily meals. But as dawn broke, Elysia knew that her time of wallowing had come to a close.
Bleary eyed, she stumbled out of bed to find several letters shoved through the mail slot. It seemed the rest of the world was done with her hiding as well. There were three messages in total.
One from her mother with detailed instructions regarding the upcoming cocktail party from time of arrival to the exact style of hair and dress required. Because gods forbid that someone in their midtwenties chose their ownhairstyle.
The second letter was from Rollie.
Your presence will be accepted but a favor is needed. Details to come. Good luck.
Both relief and frustration ran through her. Relief that they were even willing to speak with her given who she was and frustration because nothing ever came free, did it?
And finally, a short yet very colorful note from Gage describing exactly what he would do to her if she did not drag her sorry carcass from her home and meet with him to train.
Shit, shit,shit. She’d missed at least three of their usual training sessions.
Elysia tossed off her robe and pajamas in a frenzy and almost died tripping over Sir Larkspur, who darted in and around her feet. Snatching up a pair of soft leather leggings, she shoved her legs through and danced to wrench them up over her hips. She barely spared a glance to see which top she had grabbed before yanking on her boots and practically throwing herself out the door.
The muted sun had already started its grim ascent, which meant she was late and being late never boded well when meeting Gage. Her mind raced, wondering exactly how much time it would take her to streak across the city to where they always met. Her mind raced so fast, in fact, that for once in her life she did not check her surroundings.
Which was how she found herself dropping to the ground like a brick as a dagger whizzed past, grazing her cheek. Twisting, she turned and fired back a blade of her own.
A bare hand caught the handle with practiced ease.
The smug bastard sat with legs sprawled on her roof and was calmly eating a sandwich. She’d nearly pissed herself collapsing on the street and he sat there eating a fucking sandwich.
Gage took another bite and sunk her knife into his own sheath. “Sounded like a bit of chaos down there. Weren’t in a hurry, were you?”
She scowled. “You’re a bastard, you know that.”
His lips twitched, but he didn’t answer. He just dropped to the street and held out another sandwich. “Here.”
She waved him away, chest still heaving. Lifting her fingertips to her face, they came back bloody. “Do you want meto get caught? All these cuts and bruises and someone is bound to notice one day.”
He just grunted and held out the sandwich again. “You don’t eat enough when you’re stressed. Take it.”
She sighed and snatched it from his fingers before plopping down on a nearby bench. Taking a small bite, she spoke absently. “My mother is going to be so pissed about this cut. There’s a stupid party with the Bellian diplomats this week. I doubt Topp will go, but she wants to show me and the girls off, as usual.”
His grin held for a moment, but then his eyes turned dark with condescending ire at the mention of the prince. “Forget your mother noticing. What kind of man doesn’t notice that their woman is nearly always bruised? Or that you are not soft like any other woman he would touch?” His voice lowered. “What kind of man doesn’t notice there is nearly always a knife between your legs?”
Elysia choked on her sandwich. “We arenothaving this conversation.” She shoved more food into her mouth and gave him a grossed out look. Their relationship was far too familial to be discussing…that.
