I place my hand in his. “Fly.”
30
EMBER
I’m starting to get used to what it feels like to fly. My stomach no longer roils the same way with the dips and turns Franco makes, although I can’t say I’m completely settled. There’s still the fact that I’m cradled against the prince’s arms, my arms encircling his neck, the heat of his chest warming every inch where our bodies touch. Yet it doesn’t feel quite so terrifying anymore to be this close. His grip on me feels…safe. The wind streaming through my hair feels exhilarating. And now that I’ve grown more used to the ride, I’m not as dizzy, which means I get to admire the scenery passing far below.
A warmth spreads through my heart as I wonder, is this what Mother saw when she flew?
I’m surprised to find my disappointment so strong as the lake comes into view and we begin our descent. Not that I dislike the idea of walking by the lake. It’s more that I’m not done flying.
I study our destination as we continue to lower. The lake glistens a blue-green, and I see several small rowboats upon it. On the path surrounding the lake stroll countless well-dressed figures, the women carrying parasols while the men wear their finest walking clothes. I glance down at myself, relieved that I appear to be dressed comparatively well. I’d been so preoccupied with getting away from my stepsisters that I hadn’t thought to change before we left, but my blue satin skirt and matching short coat are perfect for walking.
Franco lands us on a part of the path that just so happens to be unoccupied at the moment. I’m guessing he chose it for that specific reason. The closest figures are mere blurs in the distance, slowly rounding the bend toward us. Once I have my feet beneath me, I brush off my skirts and straighten my blouse and coat, ensuring nothing has gone awry during our flight. With a few pats, I smooth down my hair as well. Although, based on what I’ve witnessed of my glamour in the mirror, my hair is the one thing that always looks perfect no matter what I do to it. Feeling as put together as I can, I glance at Franco.
And find him staring straight at me.
I suppress a start. Has he been watching me the whole time I was fiddling with my appearance? As he continues to stare without a word, I realize we haven’t spoken since we left the palace.
“So, why are we here?” I say, breaking the silence. “And what do we do now?”
He shakes his head as if he’s coming out of a daze. His posture grows relaxed and he extends his arm. With one of his familiar, winning smiles, he says in haughty mockery, “We must promenade at least once around the lake, my lady. They expect it.”
I take the proffered arm, placing my hand at his elbow. Something that’s become quite natural, despite how it always sends my pulse racing just a little. “Who’s they?”
“The all-seeingthey, our judges, juries, and executioners,” he says with a lazy drawl.
We begin to walk in the direction of the approaching strolling couples. “Aren’t the royals the ones who judge, trial, and execute? In other words, you?”
He chuckles. “I’m trying to be melodramatic. Let me have this, won’t you?”
His tone makes me smile. It feels like things are back to normal between us. That is, if things ever werenormal.
We pass the first set of people, who offer nods as they dip into curtsies and bows. As we continue on and fall back into silence, that buzzing tension I noticed earlier in the week begins to form all over again. We make it another dozen or so feet, nodding again at another couple when Franco gestures toward the water’s edge and the small rowboats tethered to the dock.
“Shall we take a leisurely boat ride?” he asks.
“I thought we were here to promenade.”
He winks. “I’m the prince. I can do whatever I want.”
I roll my eyes at that, and the easy feeling returns. Maybe our silences are normal and I’m overthinking things. Imagining a strange energy where there is none.
I follow him to the rowboat and watch as he climbs in first. “Come,” he says, extending his arms. “I’ll help you down.”
I reach for him, but his hands don’t clasp mine like I expect them to. Instead, they come to my waist. My breath hitches as he easily lifts me from the dock to the boat. I’m not nearly as graceful when he sets me on my feet. With the boat rocking beneath my poorly distributed weight, I nearly lose my balance.
“I’ve got you.” Franco laughs and brings one hand to my side, just below my ribcage, while the other helps prop up my arm. A squeal of laughter bursts from my lips, but with his help, I’m able to find my footing. My eyes meet his, and I find him so much closer than I expected. The hand on my side tightens the slightest bit, and his expression shifts into something I can’t read. I want to avert my gaze, but I can’t bring myself to move even the slightest inch away from him. Which makes no sense, for it’s not like I’ll fall overboard without his stupid help.
I clear my throat to find my voice. “Should we sit?”
Again, he seems to have to clear a daze from his mind, and he tears his gaze away from me. “Yes,” he says with a small smile, and I’m almost certain I see a blush on his cheeks as well. He takes my hands in his and holds them while I lower onto the bench. He takes the opposite bench with very little effort.
“I would have thought someone from the Sea Court would have an easier time on water,” he says with a smirk.
“Excuse me?” I infuse my tone with mock affront, hoping it will hide the truth. “I’ve never been in a boat before. What reason would I have to do so?”
He chuckles at that, but his gaze goes steely as it catches something from over my shoulder. “For the love of the night, let’s get as far away from here as we can. Fast.”
