For the love of the breeze, there is nomine. I’m glamoured! He only wants to kiss me because I’m wearing the wrong face.
“I should go.” I pull away and rise to my feet, not bothering to glance his way as I dart for his bedroom doors.
“Wait,” he calls after me, voice flustered, “don’t you want me to fly you to your balcony?”
“No,” I say. Breezes, if I find myself pressed against his chest right now, I can’t promise I won’t do something wildly stupid. I reach the main room, looking about to gather my bearings. I spot the open doors that lead to his balcony, then another pair at the other end of the room.
Franco catches up to me. “Are you all right?”
“I just want to walk,” I say. Then, remembering everything he told me tonight, the kindness and sincerity he gifted me with, I let my lips pull into a warm smile. “Really, I’m all right. And I’m so grateful that you let me play tonight.”
He returns my grin, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. “Can I walk you back to your room?”
Quiet corridors fill my mind. Dark alcoves. Him close to me. Our hands brushing as we walk. Him whirling to press me against a wall, his lips coming hard on mine…
I suppress a shudder and blink the imaginings from my mind. My voice comes out breathless. “No, I’ll find my way. Again, thank you. Tonight has been…wonderful.” So wonderful. Too wonderful. More than it should have been.
“I enjoyed it too,” he says, tone wary. He rubs the back of his neck then springs toward the doors to open them for me.
On swift feet, I cross the threshold. Once out in the hall, I turn back to face him, but I haven’t a clue what to say. He seems equally tongue-tied, something that draws my eyes to his lips. I blink a few times and sink into an awkward curtsy. “Goodnight.” I rise without looking at him, then flee from his room, his echoinggoodnightcaressing my heels with every step.
36
EMBER
Three days later, I stand on my balcony, staring out at the landscape but not really seeing it. Instead, I’m replaying the moment Franco and I shared on the piano bench. Every time I think about it, my body gets flushed, and a buzzing heat tingles in my core. I haven’t seen the prince since that night, which is equal parts disappointing and relieving. Half the time, I can’t help but regret that I ran from him like that. Maybe I should have let him kiss me. Maybe I should have let myself enjoy physical closeness for pleasure’s sake alone.
Then I remind myself that’s all it could be. Pleasure. There can be no future for such a romantic entanglement. For one, Franco doesn’t know who I am or what I look like. If he wanted to kiss me, it wouldn’t be because he liked me but felt simple desire in that moment. It’s not like he has feelings for me, nor could he. For another, he’s a prince. I’m…nobody. I’m not a princess. I’m not someone a royal can take as a wife.
Besides, if he wanted a wife, he wouldn’t be pretending to court me.
Me.
Someone he can’t marry.
Someone he can’t love.
Furthermore, in just a few more days, I’ll be gone. I’ll be on a train heading for freedom and a life of no attachments. So why do I keep thinking about that moment with Franco?
I shake my head. Foolish, foolish girl. This is exactly what I never wanted to happen! I’ve completely and utterly fallen for his charm. Who cares that his charms are apparently deeper than I ever knew. I still should never have let myself get so close to him.
Close enough to see his freckles.
Close enough to feel his breath.
“Your Highness,” Clara says from the balcony door. I turn to face her. She shifts awkwardly from foot to foot as she wrings her hands. Ever since I dismissed Imogen, Clara has been particularly subdued. Uncertain. Best of all, she’s been quiet, filling my room with comforting silence. For the first couple days following the incident with Imogen, I waited with bated breath for my stepmother or Brother Marus to arrive and further test out my stepsister’s suspicions. But no one has come, and Clara has said nothing to suggest Imogen shared what happened between us with anyone else. From what sparse details Clara has given me, Imogen claimed to have lost her position by unintentionally displeasing me. Of course my stepsister would refuse to take responsibility for losing her position. Then again, it’s better than if she told the truth and spread her suspicions far and wide.
Four more days and I can leave. Thank the breeze.
I ignore the way my heart sinks at that and don a contrived smile for my stepsister. “What is it?”
She shifts from foot to foot again. “It’s just…I was wondering if there’s anything else I can do for you?”
I wave a dismissive hand at her and turn back toward the balustrade. “No, thank you.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” she whispers, but I hear no footsteps to mark her retreat.
I turn back around to face her. Dread sinks my stomach. “What is itreally?”
