“I can attest that Prince Franco was quite upset,” Marus says. “He was so enraged, he nearly lost his wits. You should have seen him attack me.”
“The prince attacked you?” Clara says. “How dreadful!”
“It was. He tried to refuse fulfilling his promise. I daresay he would have if the queen hadn’t intervened.”
I sit straighter, pausing my efforts with my bindings. Whatever promise he made, he tried to refuse it.
Clara frowns. “Why would he do such a thing?”
Marus shakes his head. “Like I said, the prince had lost his wits. It was clear he was confused. He claimed to love the princess, as if he couldn’t comprehend that the woman he promised to turn over to me wasn’t the princess at all, but a stranger to him.”
My heart flips. Questions continue to plague me, but at their core burns hope. Hope that I wasn’t betrayed after all. That, somehow, Franco still loves me. My breaths become a little deeper. Stronger.
He lets out a dark chuckle and sits taller, his expression haughty. “Heaven forbid he ever takes the throne. A lunatic like him won’t last a day without our generous queen saving him from his own youthful folly. He couldn’t even maintain consciousness after threatening me.”
“Folly indeed,” Imogen says. “I’m willing to bet he’ll show us much gratitude when we return to the palace. He’ll thank us for saving him from scandal. Can you even imagine his terror if Ember’s scheme succeeded and he unwittingly married her?” Laughter bursts from her lips, echoed by my stepmother.
I turn my head toward Imogen and release a string of insults that don’t make it past my gag.
“Oh, shut up,” Mrs. Coleman snaps. “Your words wouldn’t matter even if we could hear them.”
I glower.
Clara wrings her hands next to me. “Is this the right thing to do?” Her voice is small, quavering. “Take her all tied up like this to get married?”
Imogen glares at her sister. “Since when do you question Mother’s plans?”
“It just doesn’t seem…right.” She looks from Imogen to Mrs. Coleman. “Why are we doing this?”
“You know why,” snaps my stepmother. “This is our last chance to get what we deserve. What should have been ours to begin with.”
“Her inheritance?”
“Yes, her inheritance. Don’t be daft, Clara. If Terrence Montgomery hadn’t so coldly written us out of his will, we wouldn’t have to resort to such measures.” Mrs. Coleman turns to Marus. “Her father may have been human, but he was just as cruel and sinful as his daughter.”
I shoutit’s a lieagainst my gag, but only muffled sound makes it out the other side.
“I don’t remember him being cruel,” Clara whispers. My heart softens, and I slowly turn my gaze to her, surprised when I find tears in her eyes. “He was kind. The only time he was upset was—”
“Quiet,” Mrs. Coleman barks.
A chill runs through me as I continue to study Clara’s face. She purses her lips, but I can tell there are many things she’s trying not to say. When I meet my stepmother’s gaze, I find a flicker of guilt behind her eyes. I try to speak again, but my attempt turns into a groan. The groan feels so much like a hum as it vibrates in my throat that it sends a surge of panic through me. Then yearning. Everything in me wants to hum. To sing. To play my frustrations and rage away. I strain against my bindings harder now, wishing my hands were free so I could at least drum my fingers.
I release another frustrated groan, and again that yearning to hum burns within me.
This time, it makes me freeze. I take a few deep breaths, exploring the craving.
It’s dangerous, one part of me says.I’m dangerous.
But an answering voice emerges from memory—Franco’s.So am I.
My chest tightens.
I think of Franco’s gift, the necklace bearing the glamour. The three songs sung by three dangerous creatures.
I’ve spent so much time hating my singing, resenting the power it holds. Resisting it. Suppressing it.
My song may be dangerous.
