He narrowed his fiery eyes, then shifted his attention to the rose in my hand. A muscle in his jaw flicked, and I could have sworn I saw flecks of fire roll from his shoulders.
He pinched the stem of my rose and slowly incinerated it—just as he’d done to my clothes in his lounge—as if he knew watching it burn in slow motion would hurt more. He held my gaze while I watched in horror: the beautiful flower wilted and crumbled, petals crisping from bright red to dusty black until all that remained was a small handful of ash. When he burned it, it felt less like anger… and more like possession.
Just when I thought he couldn’t be any more despicable, he spoke.
“I do not have to ask you. You are nothing to me. A puny ant I could crush with one finger.” His voice dropped lower. “I do not answer to you, human. You answer to me. You obey me. So be ready to leave at dawn. Is that clear?”
I held my hand over the railing and watched the ashes fall into the wind.
He could be so cruel.
The intensity of his anger shocked me, but the harshness of his words cut like a knife. “Crystal,” I scowled back.
I glared into his eyes, trying to convey my hatred for him, but his eyes only mirrored the same detestation. Then we locked into what I could only describe as a staring contest. To my surprise, he folded first and turned away, disappearing back into the crowd.
He instantly forgot I existed and joined a conversation with a nearby noble.
I let out an aggravated groan and turned on my heel to stare at the night sky. I was tired of looking at Titus—his stupid, beautiful face. Tired of his mind games. His hot-and-cold personality.
I couldn’t believe that, for a moment, I’d contemplated the possibility that he had feelings for me, when nothing could be further from the truth.
“You are nothing to me.”
The words burned my throat like acid as I tried to process them. I didn’t trust him. I started to doubt he ever had any real intention of sending me home.
I was supposed to be training so I could successfully retrieve the Dagger of Destiny from Mount Orid—so I could go home, back to the mortal realm. Now Titus had some kind of errand he conveniently needed a mortal for?
I turned to check on Calpurnia. She was in Cercies’ lap, her hand in his, palm up, and it looked like he was helping her summon a small flame. She squealed in excitement, and he grinned proudly as he inhaled her scent from her hair.
They were cute together, but I was almost getting sick of all the cuteness. I was tired of watching couples on the dance floor. Their loving eyes, spinning between candlelight and starlight. Moon-kissed skin highlighting the apples of their cheeks and beaming smiles.
As if right on cue, a fire sprite presented me with a tray holding one last glass of wine.
Fuck yes, score!
Assuming it was a fluke—that the sprite didn’t know Titus didn’t want me to drink—I quickly took the glass and nodded graciously in thanks.
Yes. Just what I needed to smooth over my bitter mood.
I smiled as I inhaled its heady vapor and raised the goblet to my lips—when, in my peripheral, I saw Rexius. Miserable. Hunched over the stone railing, staring into the dark abyss beyond the balcony.
By no means was I fond of the spawn of Prisca, but for whatever reason I approached the prince. Maybe it was because we were the only two loners. Maybe misery loves company. Or maybe it was simply the right thing to do. He had helped save me that day. He was the one who had found me in the sacred forest and called out to Aurelius to heal me.
Before I could sip the fabulous nectar, I lowered the goblet and stepped beside him.
“Hey… is everything okay?” I asked.
He scowled at first. Then, as if he were tired of pretending to hate me, his façade cracked and his face fell. “I was supposed to be out there tonight,” he admitted, staring into the night sky.
“Why weren’t you?” I asked softly.
“Because Aurelius said I wasn’t ready,” he said. “He doesn’t trust me—or my dragon’s bond.”
The prince’s face was heavy with shame, and it tugged at my heart.
I briefly considered handling it like a parent—saying it was probably for the best, but he’d likely heard that from everyone already. So, with a half smirk, I said, “Well… your dragon seems like a jerk.”
To my surprise, he actually laughed. It didn’t last long, but it was real.
