Can’t put it off any longer.
Grim untangled his hand from my hair, still gripping the back of my neck. His inky stare searched mine for an answer. Even though this was our only option and not going through with it was the same as condemning him, I knew he would choose that fate if I said I wasn’t ready.
I smiled. “Let’s go.”
FIFTY
GEMMA
Despite the cold, the party was held in the garden. I think my mom saw it as the ultimate power play—control of the elements. My mother also saw the garden at Versailles and thought she could do better. A deeply manicured lawn, exquisitely mowed into horizontal stripes. A cobblestone path, reminiscent of old England, wove through rows and rows of flowers that would bloom in the summer, but were now just frost-blanketed stalks of green. And beyond the center of everything, where the party continued in full force, was the hedge maze.
Swaths of elegantly dressed partygoers streamed into the maze, disappearing behind green-black leaves.
Heat lamps designed like blown-glass hearts were strategically placed to keep guests from freezing. Crystal chandeliers were suspended from bare winter trees with invisible wire. People mingled around a massive stonesculpture spelling out200 Years. It appeared to be marble and, knowing my mother, it was.
Portraits from the earliest Crowne members up to now lined the edge, creating a makeshift boundary. I stared at my portrait. It must have been rendered off an old photo, because I still had long hair. I stared at myAmerica’s Princesssmile drawn in oil, feeling like I was looking at a stranger.
“We should get into position,” Raze said as silence fell like dominoes, heads turning one by one to see Gemma Crowne with the four Horsemen at her back. Across the party, I studied people whose opinion had once meant so much to me. Blaire and Kennedy watched, brows furrowed. Grayson and Story stared, concern etching their eyes. The glitterati stared with a hunger reserved only for scandal.
I paused at the center, where my mother stared back, ice in her eyes. And in that moment I felt a weight lift from my shoulders.
I didn’t care.
I didn’t care what she thought. I didn’t care what the world would post on social media. It was like I could see the effigy they’d raised of me, the object they used for jealousy or hate. For so long I’d been hostage to another’s perception because I didn’t know who I was and I definitely didn’t have confidence to stand in it. Now I could easily light that effigy on fire.
It had nothing to do with me.
I scanned the crowd, this time ignoring the faces staring back at me. Where was Vander?
“I don’t see him,” I said.
What if he wasn’t here?
Then all of it would be for nothing?—
“Gemma.”
Before I could think, Grim gripped my face and crushed his lips against mine. In the back of my mind, a small voice reminded me where we were. Everyone was watching. If they’d had doubts before, those were in cinders.
Any thought was quickly burned away by the hunger in his lips. His thumbs dug into my cheekbones, lips hurried, breath fast, all the fear Grim refused to let himself feel bleeding into my lips.
He pulled back too soon, still holding my face. I was dazed, lips buzzing. The space between us filled with some kind of magic.
“Time to go find dear old Dad and let him think he’s won,” Grim said. “Stay here,” he added, voice soothing, rubbing circles with his thumb against my cheek. “I’ll find you after.”
With that, he and the rest of the Horsemen disappeared from view. I entered the party, trying not to think about where they were, what they were doing. For hopefully the last time, I put on my Gemma Crowne smile, and I pretended.
I grabbed a flute of bubbly gold champagne and I mingled. I laughed at jokes. I asked howso-and-sowas doing. No one brought up Grim. If our world was good at anything, it was ignoring the elephant in the room.
My gaze drifted toward the hedge maze. Lanterns flickered along the edge of the maze, ending at the leafy maw that disappeared into velvet and shadows. Wraith and Raze would be inside it by now?—
“Gemma Antionette Crowne.”
My name hissed from my mother’s lips. There was still a part of me that clung to her opinion. That felt like her unhappiness wasn’t just my fault; it was my burden.
I sucked in a deep breath and turned. “Hey, Mom.”
“Do you have any idea what you put me through?” She gripped my hand. “We can still fix this. I’ve hired crisis PR, the prince still?—”
