“You’ll not take them off.”
“I’m not taking them off,” I say through my teeth. “I’m tearing a strip of cloth from your chemise so I can secure your shoes to your feet.”
“You’re ruining my chemise?”
“I’m sure the princess left you others.” Then, with an exaggerated flourish of my hands, I add, “May I?”
She looks from me to her skirt, then steps closer. “Very well.”
I lift her petticoats just enough to gather the hem of her chemise between my fingers. As I tear it, she stifles a gasp, and I’m forced to hide my smug grin. Once I have two long strips of the linen cloth, I take one and pull it under the arch of her shoe, then tie it over the top of her foot. I do the same with the other. With my job complete, I rise and watch as she tests the hold of her shoes.
“Now will you let me fly you back to the palace?” I ask, extending my hand.
In answer, she places her palm in mine. Clasping my fingers around hers, I pull her close. She lets out a surprised yelp as her chest comes up against mine. I hold her gaze because I can tell it unsettles her. Then, releasing her hand, I lift her off her feet, one arm beneath her legs and the other around her waist. Her arms encircle my neck as I launch us into the sky. Her grip tightens the higher we go, and the cool air sweeps away my worries. Soon, new ideas take their place.
I’m only half aware of these thoughts, as the other half of me is fixated on the girl in my arms, her energy that pulses with the strangest blend of discomfort and exhilaration, her frantic heartbeat that pounds against my chest. She may be an impostor, a liar, and a complete stranger. She may be fierce, vicious, and incredibly rude. And yet, I have plans that are going to make her very useful to me. Plans that will surely incense her to no end, evoke emotions of flame and storm.
I must admit, I’m enjoying that thought far more than I probably should.
23
EMBER
Igrip the prince tightly as he flies us back to the palace. He must be enjoying himself greatly. Every time I hazard a glance at his profile, I see only his smug grin and want nothing more than to slap it off his face. I have no doubt he delighted in my reaction when he tore my skirt, even more so when he pulled me against him. Playboy prince, indeed. He’s worse than the rumors suggest if he’s willing to take pleasure in stealing gasps from a woman he hates.
The longer we fly, the darker my thoughts become. What exactly does the prince plan to do with me when we arrive at the palace? He said he’d punish me, but he also stated he’dallow me to continue my ruse, whatever that means. Will I be permitted to fulfill my bargain with Princess Maisie, and in turn remain safely hidden until the bargain with my stepmother is completed as well? And if so, will suffering the prince’s supposedpunishmentbe worth it?
I recall what he did to those children, how he conjured his terrifying glamour and bled shadows from his victims for sustenance. Can I truly rely on his mercy?
If it means freedom from marrying Brother Marus, then it’s something I’ll have to risk.
* * *
The palace comes into view,and at first, I expect him to take us to the front. That’s when I remember how I’m dressed. Undressed, more like. My cheeks heat, and my awareness over Franco’s bare chest returns, stronger than before.
“Relax,” he calls over the roar of the wind that beats past us. “I’m taking you to your balcony.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d stop reading my energy,” I say through my teeth.
“And I’d appreciate a bottomless glass of Midnight Blush, and yet somehow I’m always left wanting.” He angles his body, and we dip sharply to the side, our descent coming faster and faster. My stomach bottoms out, and I close my eyes, biting back a squeal as I tuck my head under his chin. His chest heaves with laughter, and it takes all my restraint not to pinch him. Then, not a moment too soon, our momentum stops.
I lift my head and open my eyes, finding us hovering before my balcony. Franco’s wings beat a steady rhythm to keep us suspended midair. Then, with unexpected gentleness, he sets me on my feet and joins me on the balcony floor. It takes me a few breaths to gather my bearings, and even after I manage to maintain my footing without toppling over, mild disequilibrium remains.
Franco tucks his wings close to his back, but instead of remaining there, they disappear. How is he able to produce wings without fully shifting into his unseelie form?
He must notice my curiosity. “What? Interested in my wings?” He leans his backside against the railing, hands propped on the balustrade. His posture is perfectly relaxed, making him seem far more at home in nothing but low-waisted trousers than I am in my full-coverage undergarments.
My eyes linger too long on his ink-covered abdomen, but I drag them away and try to recall his question. Oh, yes. Wings. “I was just…wondering,” I say, hating how awkward my voice sounds. “How are you able to do that with your wings? Sometimes you have them and sometimes you don’t.”
“I’m able to shift partially into my unseelie form, focusing only on my wings.” He says it like it’s a simple thing, but I’ve heard of very few others who can do that. Many fae have seelie forms that maintain some unseelie characteristics, such as feathers, scales, or antlers, but rarely, if ever, have I seen a fae summon and dismiss only a portion of their unseelie form at will. Furthermore, I’ve seen him conjure wings both shirtless and clothed, and his wings don’t affect his clothing. I know fully shifting forms doesn’t impact a fae’s garments, so I suppose a partial shift would work the same way. Curiosity buzzes through me, and with it comes a pang of regret.
If my mother were still alive, I’d have more firsthand knowledge of fae magic.
“Enough about me,” he says, interrupting my thoughts. “Let’s talk about you.”
I fold my arms over my chest, feeling naked beneath his gaze. “What about me?”
“Do you promise that your bargain with Princess Maisie is of a personal nature, and has nothing to do with politics nor does it pose any threat to me or my kingdom?”
