Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Worst of all, I’m no closer to being free from Nimue. Her curse will kill me in six days.
And I might have just ruined everything.
19
Hours later, I’m back to pacing my room. The dinner tray Initiate Jeremy brought to me an hour ago remains untouched. My stomach is too tangled in knots to even consider food, especially with what lies next to my tray—a note stating the time of tonight’s Blessing Ceremony. Eight o’clock. It’s now seven-thirty, which means I only have half an hour until it begins. Tonight, Dorian will send one girl home. There’s a good chance it will be me.
A frantic tapping on my window shatters my thoughts. I rush to open it. “He’s going to send you home,” Podaxis says as soon as the glass closes behind him. “I spied on Brother Billius speaking with Father Viktor. Billius told Viktor that Dorian has made his choice and…and…”
“And I’m being sent home.” My stomach plummets deeper than it already has. With a groan, I sink onto my bed and put my head in my hands. “I have to fix this.”
“How?”
I rise and return to pacing. “I must ensure he chooses someone else to go home. I…think I know what I can do.” My mind spins as a plan forms in my mind. “But there’s more. So much more.”
Podaxis scurries back and forth across the floor to keep up with my agitated movements. “Care to share?”
I stop and face him. “Podaxis, I’m going to say something I don’t often admit. You were right. I have to gethimto kissme.”
“I agree with that,” Podaxis says, “but I think even I underestimated his virtue. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone like him would forgo kissing until he’s selected a bride, if not until his actual wedding.”
I nod and start pacing yet again. “Which means I have to outlast this stupid pageant. I either need to seduce him into falling so deeply in love with me that he loosens up on propriety and kisses me in the next six days, or I must win the entire contest and let our first kiss mark his final breath.”
“You make it sound quite grim,” Podaxis says.
I can’t say I disagree. The idea of playing with a man’s heart just to murder him is enough to make me wonder if my life is even worth saving at all. If I go through with this plan, I’ll forever be a bad person. But I’d rather be a bad person than a dead one. I curl my fingers, my jaw set. “I have to win.”
His mouth twists into a grimace. “Can you do that?”
I shake my head. “Not with how I’ve handled things so far. Before now, I put in no effort. I thought this would be easy. I thought I’d be free by now and wouldn’t have to worry about impressing him or wooing him or anything of the sort.”
“So…you’re going to woo him?”
“Yep. Which means I have a lot of work to do. I’ll need more clothes, I’ll need to pretend I like him—”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” He taps his pincers together. “There’s still the whole matter of not getting eliminated tonight. You only have half an hour until the ceremony.”
“You’re right.”
“Oh, I do like when you say that. It’s been twice now.”
“Don’t get used to it.” I shoot him a glare, but there’s no malice in it. Not with the excitement over my new plan bubbling in my chest.
“Now it’s time to do what I do best.”
“Argue and refuse to listen to reason?”
“No.” I grin at my friend. “Steal shiny objects.”
* * *
My confidence remainsa quarter of an hour later, but my body feels drained, thanks to my latest trip to the Twelfth Court. I walk to the other end of the hall, trying my best to act natural. Despite wishing I could curl up on my bed for the rest of the evening, I’m dressed in my nicest outfit—the lavender evening gown Nadia selected for me. I stop outside the last room at the far end of the hall, take a deep breath, force my lips into what I hope is an even more convincing smile, and rap my knuckles against the closed door.
I hear movement from behind it, but it takes several seconds before it opens. When it does, I find Vanessa’s chaperone on the other side of the threshold. “Your Highness,” she says with cold politeness.
“Greetings,” I say. “Might I have a word with Van—” I’m about to use her first name when I remind myself of social strictures. Since Vanessa isn’t what I’d call a friend, I must address her by her surname. “Might I speak with Miss Courter?”
