I curse my foolish self. Of course it’s because of me! He’s probably dragging me somewhere to punish me for ensnaring him with my dangerous magic. Using magic on a royal without their permission is a criminal offense.
But that look in his eyes before we were interrupted—No. I’d be stupid to think it held anything other than disgust. And if he wants to punish me for what I can do, I deserve it. I deserve worse. I’vedoneworse than enchant a prince. If only he knew…
The music rises to a crescendo as we rush down the hall past the doors that lead into the theater, the tempo in sync with my pulse. Once we reach the end of the hall, the last note rings out, then leaves silence in its wake. Franco quickens his steps, tossing a glance over his shoulder now and again. His grip tightens on my hand, but not in threat. It feels more like…comfort. Perhaps it isn’t me that has him in such an aggravated hurry after all.
We reach the lobby and make a beeline for the doors flanked by a pair of ushers. Several more men await outside, ready to assist patrons to their carriages. Franco pulls me toward our coach, which remains where we left it. Just as he reaches for the door, he pulls up short. I frown, uncertain why he hesitates. Then I notice a slight rocking of the coach. A moment later, a soft feminine moan reaches my ears.
My mouth falls open. I whip my head toward the prince, fully aware of how warm my cheeks have become. “Do you think…”
“Yes,” the prince says, then mutters a string of curses that end in, “Damn it, Augie! In the coach? Could you not have found anywhere else to spread your passions?” His words, of course, don’t reach the coach’s occupants as the vehicle continues to rock. He looks at the moon mares. “You let this happen?”
A sudden wave of sound grows behind us, and a second later, I recognize it as chatting voices. The audience has exited the theater. Franco grows tense next to me. His tight grip on my fingers reminds me that we’re still holding hands.
“His Highness,” someone whispers loudly. More whispers follow until they build to an excited murmur. I glance over my shoulder at the crowd that pours from the lobby to the street outside.
Franco runs a hand over his face. Then, after a deep breath, he turns us around and flashes the crowd a winning smile. I do my best to follow his lead, acting ever the serene princess, but I’m sure my grin comes across more like a grimace. Bows and curtsies follow. When the people rise, wide eyes dart from the prince to me and back again. I try not to cringe beneath their scrutiny as they stare at our clasped hands.
Franco clears his throat. “Thank you for this wonderful night of entertainment. The…” He pauses and glances up at the marquee. “The Nightingale Theater has been a most generous host this evening. And now I bid you goodnight.” He turns to me and lowers his voice. “Are you ready to cause a scene?”
My pulse quickens. “What?”
“How are your shoes? Secure?”
“I’ve tied ribbons around them.”
“Good.” With that, he lifts me in his arms and smiles once again for the crowd. “It’s been a pleasure.” His wings sprout from his back, and he lowers into a crouch. Then he launches upward. I bite back a squeal, arms tight around his neck as we shoot into the night sky.
28
FRANCO
The flight back to the palace feels vastly different from when we left the forest after our coach was sabotaged. Back then, I’d been confident. Playful. Brash. But now…
With the ghost of Em’s haunting melody lingering in my veins, I’m left feeling…strange. The air brushing my skin feels colder, sharper. The girl in my arms feels warmer, heavier, her heartbeat louder, her breath on my neck as thick as a caress. It’s unsettling how my awareness of her makes my lungs feel tight, my stomach clenching.
I’m not entirely sure why her magic would make me feel this way. Her singing has the power to amplify emotions, but which emotions was it targeting that has me feeling like this? Which emotions made my legs feel weak and my tongue feel like it had been tied in a knot? I can only imagine it had much to do with my shock over realizing who she is.
My mystery pianist.
I still don’t know her face or her name, but in that moment before my emotions overtook my senses, I’d been struck with her essence. Not just her energetic signature, but beyond it. That wild, glowing mass that tasted like rose and citrus.
I glance down at her as we fly. At some point during our journey, she shifted her head from under my chin and now looks down at the scenery below as it passes by in a blur. I breathe in deeply, sampling her emotions, but find them muted. My own are still so present, so strong, I can’t get a clear read on her. She does, however, seem less uncomfortable about flying with me this time.
We exchange not a single word as we continue our flight. I’m afraid that if I speak, I’ll just say something incredibly stupid anyway. My tongue feels as heavy as it had backstage.
At last, we reach the palace. I set her on the balcony and consider taking off without a second glance. But no, that’s a rather odd reaction. It’s not like I’m afraid of the girl. Am I?
I blink a few times, realizing I’ve been staring at her, and she’s been looking right back. She hovers before her balcony door, a pained expression on her face. I try to taste her energy again, and after some effort, I’m able to glean a murky blend that must be confusion with perhaps a dash of embarrassment or shame. What does she have to be embarrassed about? I’m the fool who can’t seem to get my head on straight.
I don a grin and try to think of something witty to say, but my mind goes blank. What the hell is wrong with me? I retreat a few slow steps toward the balustrade, every step hesitant. “I should go.”
Her expression falls, and it makes my heart sink so deep that for one inexplicable second, my only desire is to do something—anything—to remove that hurt. Why does she hurt? And did I cause it? For the love of the night, why do I care? She may be my mystery pianist, but she’s still a stranger. An impostor. A woman whose true face I don’t know.
And yet…
That citrus and rose emotional cocktail blooms in the back of my mind. I may not know her true face, but I saw something else. Tasted it. And it was unlike anything I’ve ever sensed before.
She takes a sudden step forward, and her next words come out in a rush. “What were you going to say?”
