He makes no effort to finish the sentence. “Is Glint McCreedy around here or something? Is Sam Sputnik poised and ready to catch me in some scandalous photograph with the selkie temptress?”
My cheeks have set to blazing now. “Believe what you will, but I didn’t come here to try and spend extra time with you or whatever it is you think I’m doing. I’m here for my drink and to visit with my friend.”
“Friend,” he echoes with a laugh. “Sneaking out of the church to visit your male friend at night while you’re supposed to be competing for my hand is far worse than if you’d followed me.”
I throw my hands in the air. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I don’t know whatyouwant fromme. Half the time you act like it’s a chore to be in my presence and that you’re two seconds away from ripping my head off. The other half you seem too shy to speak to me and yet try to kiss me.”
Humiliation writhes like a whirlpool in my chest. I point a finger at him, my voice quavering. “That is not half the time. That was one time and I already apologized. Besides, you’re one to talk! Half the time you’re a tolerable person, the other half you’re cold and distant and treat me like I’m nothing but a conniving fae monster.”
He purses his lips but says nothing, leaving icy silence between us. Thankfully, Martin returns with my drink. I take it from him and knock it back at once, barely registering its taste as heat slides down my throat and warms my stomach. Whatever the drink is, it’s fae and strong. I can tell by the tingling euphoria that begins dancing at the edges of my awareness.
Martin glances between me and Dorian, then all but shoves Dorian out of the way to stand between us. “Care to dance?”
“Yes,” I say without looking at him. Dorian shakes his head and turns back to the bar. I watch his retreating form with a mixture of rage and shame. My source of rage is obvious. Dorian is a self-righteous asshole. But shame…
Shame is found in my own words. The ones I said about him treating me like I’m a conniving fae monster.
The truth is, I don’t feel that way because of how he acts around me. I feel that way because Iama fae monster. What other kind of person would use fae magic to murder a person?
A desperate one, I remind myself. And there’s still no going back. I may not have found Dorian doing something awful tonight, aside from being his usual self, but that doesn’t change anything. I must kill or be killed.
Just once.
Just this once.
Then I’ll never have to worry about Nimue, or the curse she placed upon me, or her Sisters of the Black Eel ever again.
Martin holds out his arm and nods toward the dance floor. “Shall we?”
“Yes, but first, I need another drink.”
26
As the night wears on, my inhibitions melt away. I drink. I dance. Drink. Dance. All the while casting glances at the bar where Dorian remains alone, throwing back probably twice as many drinks as I’ve had. I try not to think too much of it whenever I look his way and find his eyes on me. Instead, I avert my gaze and try to look like I’m having more fun than I really am, whether I’m dancing alone or chatting with Martin. Despite my efforts to pretend I’m having the time of my life, I know my actions are jeopardizing all the hard work I did earlier today with Dorian. It will be a miracle if I’m not eliminated at tomorrow night’s Blessing Ceremony. But those worries belong to tomorrow. Tonight, I just want to forget.
Forget my conversation with Dorian.
Forget what I must do to him.
Forget what will happen if I don’t.
Forget that he deserves what’s coming to him.
Forget that part of me isn’t certain he does.
After my third glass of Starshine, Star Court’s most famous alcoholic beverage, I’m back on the dance floor, swaying to the band’s raucous drums, horns, and piano. My head feels light and my limbs feel lighter, like I’m back in the ocean, my motions like flippers cutting through water. I get asked to dance by a few strangers, but I refuse them all, preferring to sway alone. I’ve only danced once with Martin so far, thank the shells. I’m still determined not to give him the wrong idea about us. With Starshine clouding my mind, I can’t tell how long it’s been since I last saw him. I’m starting to wonder if he’s left without saying goodbye—something I’d be more than relieved about—when he suddenly stands before me, hand extended. A new song has begun, this one slower than the last. Couples pair up and draw close. “May I have this dance?” he asks.
I open my mouth to say no, but my words are too slow. Or he’s too fast. Whatever the case, he takes my hand and steps in close, his other arm snaking around my waist. “Just one more dance?”
“Fine.” I take a step back and place a hand on his shoulder to separate us. His arm loosens behind me and takes a more chaste position at the middle of my back. While I may not be the most proper lady, I do want to maintain boundaries with him. Even more so with Dorian watching. The thought has my gaze drifting back to the bar, where Dorian nurses a full glass, his eyes locked on mine. I look back at Martin, who starts to turn us in a rhythmless dance.
He furrows his brow as he looks down at me. “So, that man…he’s the one you’re competing to marry?”
“Yes,” I say, forcing my expression to remain neutral.
“The two of you didn’t seem to be on the best terms.”
