He leans his head close to mine and gives me a shy grin. “You aren’t the only one.”
“Your Highness.” My blood goes cold at the sound of the approaching voice, my grip tightening on the prince’s arm as Brother Marus stops before us. “Do you recall our previous conversation?”
“How can I forget?” Franco asks with a sardonic look. For the first time tonight, he’s reclaimed his smug façade. “You love to remind me every time I see your face.”
Marus ignores the prince’s obvious disdain. “As you’ll recall, my fiancée turns nineteen tomorrow and will be here to claim her inheritance.”
My stomach turns.
“Brother Marus, for someone so keen on ensuring I remember all our prior conversations, you do very little to recall mine. I heard you last time. I hear you again. Thank you and good day.”
We turn away from Marus, but he’s undeterred. “Do you recall the promise you made me?”
Franco goes still and closes his eyes. I don’t need to be a psy vampire like him to sense the agitation radiating off him. He gently removes my hand from his arm and whirls to face Marus. In the blink of an eye, he has the man by the collar of his jacket. Franco’s face transforms with his rage, revealing just a hint of the terrifying glamour I saw him conjure once before. “I remember,” he says through his teeth, then shoves Marus away from him.
Marus brushes off his jacket, eyes wide. “You forget who I am to your sister. She and I have an alliance.”
“And you forget whoIam. Period.”
Marus’ fingers ball into fists, his face turning bright red. Then, with a stiff bow, he walks away.
Franco runs a hand over his face, then looks at me. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like him. Now you see why I despise him too. My sister has let him get away with too much. Instead of keeping him close enough to watch with a keen eye, he’s grown too proud. Too confident.”
I don’t know what to say to that so I just nod. Nausea continues to turn in my gut. Midnight. At midnight I’ll be free. At midnight, Marus loses all claim to me. As does Mrs. Coleman.
A flash of pain strikes my core and I gasp an intake of breath.
“Em!” Franco takes me by the shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
I try to speak but can’t find my voice over the pain.I’m obeying. I’m obeying. The bargain is nearly fulfilled.One more flash of pain, then it returns to its familiar dull ache. When I return my eyes to Franco’s, his brow is furrowed with concern. “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I’m not feeling well.”
He watches me a few silent moments, and I wonder if he’ll buy my lie. “Let’s get out of here for a bit,” he says, pointing his thumb at the domed archway.
Relief unwinds my muscles, and I follow Franco outside the dome and onto the garden path. Outside, a few couples stroll while fire sprites continue to light the many trails. With slow, easy steps, we wander away from the dome, away from the music. Silence falls between us, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable like it once did. It feels full. Warm.
After a while, Franco turns toward me. “You like to swim, right?”
It takes me several seconds to find my words. He thinks I’m a sea fae. My answer should be an outright yes, when in truth, I haven’t gone swimming since I was a child. Memories of visiting the lake with Mother and Father flood my mind, filling my heart with peace. “Of course I do.”
“Good.” Franco pulls me to him and spreads his wings. Exhilaration shoots through me as he lifts me off the ground. We fly away from the palace and the bright bustle of activity, and I press my face close to his chest, breathing him in. I don’t care where we’re going, only that we’re flying. Together.
It might be our very last time.
Soon, the shimmering expanse of Lake Artemisa comes into view, prompting a wave of dread to fill my gut. When he asked if I like to swim, he didn’t mean…
Panic sweeps over me as he lowers us to the ground. “What are we doing here?”
He glances down at me with a grin. “Going for a swim, of course.”
We land near the shore. As soon as I step away from him, he begins removing his jacket. My eyes lock on his chest. I’m caught somewhere between alarm and desire as I watch his jacket fall to the ground. I snap my gaze to his. “You can’t be serious about going for a swim,” I say, trying to keep my voice light.
He lifts a shoulder in a shrug, then begins to unravel the knot in his cravat. “I’m a sweating mess after tonight.”
“We danced one dance.”
“Youdanced one dance. I gave a speech. Two, technically. Then I talked to strangers and had that most hideous interaction with Brother Marus.”
I cross my arms over my chest, forcing my gaze not to follow his swift fingers as he moves from the cravat to the buttons of his shirt. “I can’t swim right now,” I say. “I don’t have a swimming gown.” Too late, I realize how utterly human that sounds, and the opposite of what someone from the Sea Court would say. I try to think of an excuse to explain away the statement, but fatigue keeps me silent. When I’m this close to freedom, it’s exhausting to keep lying to him. Do I even need to anymore?
