She looks at me as though I’m gullible—a princess without worldly sense. It stings, knowing even my closest friend sees me as naïve. Yet everyone around me expects me to run the kingdom. Shouldn’t they want me to be less gullible? Shouldn’t they treat me like the rational adult I am?
“If only it were that simple,” I mutter. “I’d never fall for such a trick. It’s him, Clemmy—and to make matters worse, he kissed me at my engagement party. He saved me from the spreading rot and kissed me to prove that I still felt something for him.”
Clemmy’s eyebrows lift, and she purses her lips. “Well?”
“That’s why I’m so confused! I felt dread when Prince Leland kissed me, but with Kieran, it was as if my soul were afire. I haven’t felt thatway since… since I was nineteen. These last few weeks have made me wonder if we could become something great.”
She looks at me with such pity that I want to tell her to stop, but I hold my tongue. I don’t want to be rude, not when she may still offer clarity. “Do you know what he wants?”
I blush. “All I know is that he claims he wants to ruin me, but he’s done nothing to demonstrate that. He’s still as affected by me as I am by him.”
She shakes her head. “I’m in a mixed redblood and blueblood marriage. The court doesn’t accept me, and while Griffin tries his best not to show how it bothers him, I know it does. I don’t know how you’d ever gain your mother’s or the council’s approval to marry a redblood.”
I sigh and drop my gaze to the table. “I know. The idea of marrying Kieran feels as impossible now as it did when I was nineteen.”
“Then marry the prince. Send Mr. Blackwell away and don’t let thoughts of him linger. You’ve said yourself you don’t have the luxury of marrying for love. Why would it be any different with Mr. Blackwell? He’ll still be affected by your curse, just as any other man has been. Don’t you think it will hurt the love you feel for him—wondering if what he feels is false?”
Tears well in my eyes. I know my duty, and I’ve feared our shared kiss was only Kieran’s reaction to my curse.
What if he truly does hate me?
Betraying this arrangement with Icelantica, only to have my heart broken, would be too much to endure.
“You’re right. I can’t cancel my wedding.”
She nods, then stands and wraps me in a warm hug. I don’t stop the tears that run down my cheeks onto her shoulder.
23
Kieran
The garden is still, the midnight silence something I now crave as I walk the perimeter of the Ashcroft family gardens. I want to choose a flower for Gen that might draw her from the dark mood I saw cloud her face during supper.
Plucking a soft pink rose, one of the earliest blooms of the season, I begin making my way toward her staircase. This nightly ritual is something I can’t seem to stop, even knowing it will lead nowhere.
I’ll be leaving in two days for my country house in northern Naseria, finally allowing myself to admit that staying through the wedding is nothing more than a personal form of torture.
Gen doesn’t care whether she ruins her life with an ill-suited marriage, and my intentions have nothing to do with ruining her. She’s doing an adequate job of that on her own.
No—Genevieve Ashcroft is my own poisonous bloom, and if I remain, I’ll only give in to a fatal attachment to the woman who showed me her true self nine years ago.
The thorns of the rose bite into my palm as I take quick strides toward her room. Up ahead, limned in moonlight, I see Gen slip through the slightly ajar tower door. She scans the garden, her eyes meeting mine, and I shrug, caught once again in what’s become my nightly habit.
“Mr. Blackwell, fancy meeting you here,” she murmurs, her tone lighter than I’d expect after her dour mood at supper.
She already knows what I’m doing. There’s no point denying it. I hold out the rose, feeling the catch of the thorns as she reaches for it. But she doesn’t pull away; her hand is warm against mine as she rubs the stem between her fingertips.
“It’s lovely,” she says softly, “but you must stop this. Please.”
I shake my head, knowing I’ll willingly let her curse me, ruin me, destroy me. I’ve learned nothing in nine years from the venom this woman can extract. “You know I can’t do that, Gen. I’ve tried.”
Her fingers linger against my skin, the contact charged in a way that makes me want to pull her closer. Then, as if she senses it too, she pulls away, leaving my hands empty. The loss of her touch cuts through me like a bitter wind.
“Walk with me.” Her voice is resolute, and she looks at me with a fierceness I can’t help but admire.
“Of course.” My voice is rough, betraying the emotion coursing through me.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she explains, her eyes on the rose. “I signed the marriage contract today, and I know what you must think of me—for choosing this life, for agreeing to the Frostclaws’ demands. You don’t need to ruin me. I’ve done an excellent job of it myself.”
