I shake my head to clear it. “What? When?” Idiot. I can’t even form a complete sentence, only clipped words.
“Backstage. You said my name. Then…it seemed like you were going to say something else.”
A blush burns my cheeks, and I’m grateful the moon is merely a crescent, keeping my face in shadow. I know exactly what she means, and my first reaction is to brush her off or say something clever and abrasive instead. But the look in her eyes, the murky haze in her emotions, has me shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. I’m about to say something very, very stupid.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I avert my gaze. “Just that…that you were the best part of the ball.”
I turn away from her, not allowing myself to witness her response. Instead, I dive over the balustrade and shift fully into my raven form, letting my wings catch the air and take me far from the palace.
* * *
EMBER
As soon as the prince is gone, I rush into my room and close the balcony doors behind me. Enveloped in the quiet of my empty room, I go to the bed and fall face first upon it. I want to hide. From whom, I’m not sure. From myself? All I know is that a flurry of emotions strike a dissonant chord within me. Humiliation and shame act as dueling conductors, leading all my other feelings in a disharmonious symphony.
I close my eyes but all I see is the prince’s wary expression before he left me on my balcony. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough. Like I’m dangerous.
Iamdangerous.
And a fae prince far more deadly than I just looked at me like I could be his undoing.
I release a frustrated groan.
Why did I have to hum? Now that he knows what I can do, he’ll…
He’ll what?
He said nothing to condemn me, but that doesn’t guarantee he won’t end our arrangement. He could send guards to my door any minute to throw me out of the palace. Or escort me to the dungeon.
Then I recall the last thing he said to me before he all but toppled off the balustrade in his haste to get away from me.
You were the best part of the ball.
My pulse quickens. I still can’t believe he was the fat raven. It means all the annoyance I felt for the man on the dais was never meant for Franco. It had been his ambassador all along. And yet, the way he acted in the alley remains.
Unless that wasn’t him either.
I groan again, this time striking my pillows with my fist. Humiliation rises higher than all my other conflicting emotions, although it takes me a few moments to realize its source. Then it dawns on me.
I fell for him. I was a fool and I fell for him.
As determined as I was to hate the prince after our alleyway encounter, I fell for him anyway. Not in love, of course, but for his charms. And that son of a harpy probably knows it too. How could he not? He could have been reading my damn emotions the entire time we were in the parlor last night.
My cheeks heat, and all I want to do is disappear and never see the prince again.
You were the best part of the ball.
I hate the way my heart flutters at those words. The way it sinks when I consider if he said them not as a compliment but with regret. Or an apology. Parting words before he has me locked away for my dangerous magic…
My emotions rise again, clashing like cymbals as fear joins the fray. I’m so close to freedom. So close to fulfilling the two bargains that must precede the new life that awaits. I can’t be thwarted now. I can’t have all my plans and dreams upended when everything I desire is just a handful of days away.
I hate being at the prince’s mercy. I hate how sorry I feel for ensnaring him with my song. I hate that I now have to question whether he’s truly the arrogant rogue I first thought him to be. I hate that he’s become a complex mystery I want to both solve and flee from. I hate that his last words continue to echo through my ears. My mind. My heart.
With another groan, I climb under the covers and pull them over my head. Still dressed in my elaborate gown, I leave my raging thoughts behind in search of sleep.
29
EMBER
