Couldn’t have that.
She paced closer, irritation pushing her along. “How did you really know it was me, or that I was even there at all tonight?”
Amusement flitted across his face. Even in his anger, he could appreciate a good trick. But still, he shook his head and went for her heart. “You really do have a lot of questions for someone who has been lying to the Crown through her straight, pretty teeth all her life.”
He was off the couch in a flash. “And I am fairly certain thatI’mthe one who gets to ask questions tonight.”
His long strides cut her off, causing her to pivot away, but his fingers wrapped around her wrist, tumbling her back into his orbit. Green eyes dared her to contradict him. Begged her to lie to his face.
She folded her arms, unperturbed.
“And you’re rather dense for someone who is in line for a crown.”
Topp barked out a laugh, running his hand up her neck into her hair. He dropped his face close to hers and whispered. “Tempting. But I will not take your bait. Now tell me what in the name of the undead gods you were doing at House Gardenia. And don’t fucking lie to me, Elysia.”
Elysia felt everything come to a glaring, momentous pause. It was the frozen time between a breath and an exhale. Every choice, past and present, ran through her mind. Memories and emotion twisting and turning so fast she couldn’t track them. And sheknew, she knew this moment mattered.
This choice, these next few words—they mattered. She could stay, she could run. She could lie or tell the truth. There had been a time when being with Topp had been easy, natural even, but those days seemed further and further away with each sleepless night that passed.
She’d dreamt of being able to tell him the truth. How it would pour out like dark water from her mouth. Choking and gagging on all the decay she’d buried inside. But then the lies could finally trickle down and out of her for good. It would feel like turning your face to the sun, right before the ax fell, to stand there, honest and bare as she truly was—cursed, but free.
I miss him.The thought slipped in like a poison disguised as a tonic, almost fooling her with its aching echo in her throat and chest. She knew better than to give in to such sentiments, butit was still true. She missed when he was Topp and never the Crown Prince—at least to her.
Back when she had told him all the hidden things. All the hidden things that happened in a place like Relaclave. But perhaps not all the hidden things that happened to a woman like her.
He never asked her how she knew the trivial bits of gossip she whispered in his ear while laughing late at night. Nor did he ask about the more serious tips she fed her father so he could finalize a deal or blackmail someone out of their livelihood. And not once had he asked about the cuts, scrapes, and bruises on her muscled body.
But with his forehead pressed to hers now, all she could see were her own lies. All the things she never said. Because she couldn’t. Her evasions and lies had multiplied with every conversation, with every day, until she was so far from him that their love had become a blurry, distant thing.
Topp tucked a hand against her face, brushing his thumb on her cheek. She stared at the faint freckles beneath his eyes, her insides squeezing so tight she could barely breathe. Spring eyes watched her wade through the depths, drawing a gentle apology of a smile to her face.I’m so sorry, Topp, I am.Guilt ravaged her. He deserved better. Someone who could speak without dead dirt falling from their lips.
And even though it broke her heart once more, she told a half-truth.
“Triz was in some kind of trouble. Asked for my help.”
She felt herself float away. Away from his coffee-scented hideaway with its cozy fire crackling. Away from the hands that cradled her face like she was all that would ever matter. Just away. To where she barely heard her own words and the pain didn’t own her name.
It was insane she had ever thought she could marry him. That she had believed it would bring her safety and security. After all, whether he was Topp, the boy she’d met in the woods, or the Crown Prince of Kava—neither version had ever given any indication he would protect someone with the undead gifts.
He wouldn’t protect me.The thought was a knife through her misguided heart. The useless beating organ in her chest that wouldn’t seem to turn off no matter how hard she tried to cut it out. But it was true. The prince had never uttered a single word leading anyone to believe he would protect the cursed. Topp Blatz may have preferred working outside of the Crown lines and dalliances in the woods over meetings and legislature, but when push came to shove, he followed his father’s lead. Only a bleeding-hearted fool would stay with the man who was the face of the laws that wanted her dead.
Topp read the growing distance on her face and dragged her over to the couch. The movement snapped her out of her head and back to him. He sank back onto the broken leather cushions, pulling her down so her knees hugged his hips. Warm hands grabbed her shoulders, bringing goosebumps to her cool skin. She watched the electricity in his eyes dance, feeling his fingers dig in as he spoke.
His voice was low now. No longer angry or taunting. Low and soft with a touch of honest-to-the-gods fear. “You went up the stairs in the House like a wraith. It wouldn’t have mattered if I called your name a thousand times. You never would have heard me.”
Panic flared even brighter within her.No, don’t ask me this.
His fingers pressed a little tighter, the next question dawning, but Elysia lunged, stealing his lips and breath before the words could form. Her fingers were in his hair, her breath inside his mouth. He tasted like the sun in a dark land.
She felt him freeze, caught off guard by her frenzied kisses. But whatever his next question was, she did not have an answer. She didn’t want to answer any of his questions tonight, so she kissed him in a way that she hadn’t allowed herself to in a long, long while. Not since the dreams had swept in and stolen her future away.
She kissed him as though he was not the one who would sign her death warrant, but as if he was still the one who brought light into her life. He groaned into her mouth, feeling every bit of her intention, the longing for both what once was and what she had hoped could be her life.
“Lysia, we?—”
She ignored him and kept kissing him, hands reaching for his belt.
“Need to talk,” he gasped, even as his hips sought hers. He finally wrested her back and eyed her like she was a dangerous creature of his woods rather than a woman with lips already plump from kissing. He held her there. Close, yet firmly away, and took a sharp breath, staring at the ceiling and muttering a plea to some god Elysia did not know.
