The thoughtful crease of his brow only made her want him more.
But he was right. This was too rushed. And too unfair, given the secrets she was keeping. But she couldn’t go back to her room. She couldn’t be alone with those secrets. Those shadows.
She finally found her voice: “We shouldn’t rush. But I…I don’t want to go back to my own bed tonight.”
He rolled over and stretched out beside her. She slowly followed him, moving so they were side-by-side, facing each other, knees touching, hands brushing, fingers lacing together.
After a moment he reached up. Brushed a few strands of hair from her face. Let his hand linger against her cheek. He was looking at her as if it was the first time he had ever trulyseenher.
And she had a wild, reckless thought: She wished the potion she’d taken would somehow spontaneously wear off. That he might blink and she’d be changed in that instant, and then he trulycouldsee her.
“I don’t want to go,” she repeated, softer.
He pressed closer for one last slow, gentle kiss.
“You don’t have to go anywhere,” he said.
And she began to wonder what it might be like if she never had to go at all.
Chapter 12
Sephia did not return to her own room until the following afternoon, at which point she and Prince Tarron went their separate ways. He had to go meet with his brother, and though he invited her to come along, she declined.
Because while he was otherwise distracted, she had her own plans to carry out.
She dressed quickly, muttering to herself as she mentally rehearsed the plans she had spent most of the night and the morning deciding on.
Ketzal was perched on the headboard of her bed, watching her, head cocked to the side. He made a noise deep in his throat—half purr, half whine.
Worried, it sounded like.
Before she left, she paused long enough to walk over and scratch his feathery chest one last time. “If this goes poorly, just know that I’ll miss you,” she said. “Stay here and stay out of trouble, okay?”
And with that, she headed downstairs.
She moved with the confidence of someone who knew where they were going. Someone who belonged in these halls. It was largely an act, as so much of this past week had been. But after today…
If I survive today, I won’t have to act anymore.
It had all been an act in the beginning. She wasn’t sure at what point that had changed— when she had gone from pretending to be the prince’s bride, to actuallywantingsuch an impossible thing.
But she had not been pretending last night, when they had kissed so deeply.
The fluttering, happy feeling that had overtaken her when she’d woken up beside him had not felt like a lie, either.
That feeling was worth chasing, she’d decided.
And it was that feeling that kept her moving. She wasn’t entirely sure where she was going. She only had a vague idea of the palace’s layout, thanks to several conversations she’d had with servants— but she knew she needed to reach the prison hold, and she assumed it was located on one of the lower levels.
So she simply kept heading deeper and deeper, and eventually the light and splendor of the halls above gave way to darker, emptier spaces below. Soon after, she was met with an earthy, damp smell that suggested she was on the right track, and she picked up her pace.
Two guards spotted her as she came to the bottom of a particularly winding set of stairs. They moved to block her path, exchanging a slightly confused look before offering her a bow.
“My lady,” said one—a silver-haired, much older-looking fae who she assumed was the leader and the more experienced between the two of them. “How can we help you?”
She saw rows upon rows of keys hanging on the wall just ahead—cell keys. She was in the right place, it seemed.
“My bridegroom wishes for me to speak with the two prisoners that were recently apprehended,” she lied. “He wasn’t satisfied with the initial interrogation of them, and I am here to follow-up on some things.”
