Shadows of the Crown

21. Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

Ariella

I saiah bangs against the door for the fourth time. “Come on, Ari…we have to be there. I’m sure you look just fine.”

Says the man who doesn’t have to wear a dress.

Also says the man who isn’t obligated to dance with the prince’s cousin.

“I know I look fine,” I retort, swinging open my door. Isaiah leans against the frame, lifting his head when I exit. “I just do not want to go…I’d rather march up the mountain in this outfit and face the griffin again.”

I pull the door closed with a hand behind me, tugging on my umbral strand to ward it discreetly.

A wasted effort because Isaiah would not have noticed, even if I’d announced it. He stands frozen, mouth agape as his feet become rooted to the bright tile on the floor. I glance down, grimacing at my choice of dress…I’d convinced myself that it would infuriate Caspian the most, though I now fear it may garner the opposite reaction .

To the amusement of the shop owner yesterday, I’d chosen a floor-length, black dress with slits along the sides that reach my waist. Each step highlights my hips down to the silver heels I’ve donned, along with a color-matching jeweled belt cinched at my waist—it rests just below the slit between my breasts, leaving most of my skin exposed.

And the best feature? The third slit that divides the fabric curving down my back…the top of it ends just a breath away from fully exposing me.

“You’re a dream.” My eyes flick to Isaiah’s as he slides his hands into the pockets of his suit pants and tilts his head. “Though I recall you mentioning your aversion to the prince’s attention…” His suggestive eyes narrow as a smile trails his lips.

I step forward with my left leg, fully exhibiting the blade attached to it. “What are you suggesting, Is?” He barks a laugh as he raises his hands placatingly.

“Absolutely nothing…are you ready?” He holds out an arm—one in which I would refuse any other day. But I smile genuinely as my hand wraps around the hard muscle, my fingers immediately tapping against his smooth maroon jacket.

“Are you still accompanying the royal cousin?”

“Unfortunately.” He chuckles.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I recognize how difficult this will be for you; so if you need saving, I’ll be there.” He’s right, I did not wish to hear that.

But I mutter a barely perceptible thank you just as Ally turns a corner, creases etched deeply throughout her face.

“There you are! I swear I’ve run this entire castle twice looking for you!” Isaiah stiffens, and his response is but a muted sound as my gaze finds the ballroom entrance.

It’s pathetic how tense I am.

I refocus on Ally when she squeals, covering her face with both hands. “By the Angel! Ariella, you look so beautiful! I cannot believe you wore a dress…” I nod.

The tulle of her gown sways with each movement, and she tosses her sleek, black hair over a shoulder as she reaches for Isaiah's other arm. He smiles brightly when she settles on his right, straightening his back dramatically.

“It seems I am the luckiest man in the castle tonight to have the two most beautiful women escorting me to a royal ball.” Ally giggles as my head shakes.

The click of my heels is deafening as we step up to the entrance, a royal guard stationed on each side. They do not address us as we approach, though I feel their eyes on me all the same. Their faces lurk behind the same crimson masks that made a feeble attempt at my life; strange as I’ve not seen them worn in the castle before.

Their uncanny features raise the hairs along my neck—a clear message. A warning.

My eyes widen as we step into the ballroom, my senses assaulted by the opulence of the scene before me. The walls are adorned with luxurious red velvet drapes that cascade down to the polished tile floors. Every surface shimmers with golden accents—from intricate carvings on the ceiling to the embellished frames of mirrors that line the open wall—illuminated further by the crystal chandeliers that hang boldly over the guests.

The air is thick with vases of fresh flowers and overused perfumes. The room is so large that I can just barely make out the musicians at the back, next to the throne, but their symphony envelopes the space as if they were next to me. The violin's thoughtful melody overpowers the other instruments, as if they are just meant for support.

Hundreds of people mingle and dance throughout the space, laughing and drinking with no intensity to their gazes. As if the only thing in their life they must worry about is how drunk they can become. Foolish are the ignorant.

“Don’t look now,” Isaiah mutters in my ear; well above a whisper, lest I miss his every word. “But I believe the prince spotted you the moment you walked in. It appears he’s prematurely ended a conversation with the Lumarnian nobles to walk over here.”

My eyes threaten to find Caspian regardless of my friend's instruction. “Is that so?” He hums. “And how would you happen to know all of this?”

The only person in either realm who could live after grabbing my shoulders so freely is very fortunate I’m in a forgiving mood. “Must I spell it out for you, Ari?” I raise a brow at my best friend, and he groans as his hands squeeze. “Fuck, sometimes I just want to wring your neck.” He emphasizes his words with a light tug on my collar.

I lift a shoulder, smirking. “Try it, and see what happens.”

A toothy smile. “Listen—that man clearly adores you, and he is certainly not afraid to show it. Maybe…” His face scrunches as he drops his hands from me. “I don’t know, Ari, maybe give him a chance?”

“I do not give chances.”

“Yeah?” I nod before he gestures to the space between us. “Then what’s this? Why are you my best friend?”

A playful smile burns my cheeks as I force it down. “Charity.” He bellows a laugh, catching the attention of a few guests. They look us over before returning to their conversations.

“Angel, I can’t fucking stand you sometimes,” he remarks, attempting to sound serious, though it’s half-hearted at best.

Fingers tap against my blade, snugly resting against my thigh in a pliable, black sheath. My stomach flutters when lavender encases my senses, a heartbeat before the prince enters my peripheral.

“Prince Caspian,” Isaiah bows his head, snatching Ally’s hand. “A pleasure to see you again—Ally and I were just headed for a dance, so enjoy your night.”

“We were?” Fuck’s sake, I’d no idea it was possible to be so dense.

The prince chuckles, nodding as his hands descend into his pockets. “You as well.” He faces me fully, not bothering to hide his meticulous perusal of my body. His jaw clenches.

“Something to say, prince?”

Nodding, he swipes a thumb over his lip. “You are breathtaking…but I’d make a liar of myself if I claimed I wasn’t infuriated that everyone here will see you like this.”

My eyes widen perceptibly—the audacity. “Excuse me? You’d have me change because I’m showing more skin than the court prefers?” He chews on his lips as he moves one step closer.

“No, I wouldn’t have you change. Because if I’d known this is what you were wearing, you would not have left your room with it in the first place.” He’s deadly serious.

“Such brave words from the same prince who has gotten his ass kicked multiple times by me.”

A shrug and a haughty smile. “And I’d take a thousand more just to be the only one that saw how beautiful you look tonight.” Those silver eyes blaze with the sincerity of his confession.

What is it about him that roots itself under my skin and shifts every resolve?

I flex my fingers—when was the last time I released essence?

“Why do you do that?” My eyes snap to his. He studies me.

“Do what?” I know what he’ll say, but I question it regardless .

“Shut down…” He reaches for a strand of my hair. I let him. “Every time I compliment you, or tell you how I feel, it’s like you become this entirely new, unfeeling person.”

“Don’t compliment me, then.” He scoffs, dropping my hair. I keep allowing him too close…

“Dance with me.” Not a question—a request. For me to give in to whatever the fuck is happening between us. He offers a hand, failing to notice the amount of people watching our interaction.

An awareness settles in my throat, and my gaze flicks left to where the king sits on his throne. I cannot see his eyes from such a distance, but I feel him watching me. Watching Caspian.

“I’m supposed to be accompanied by your cousin, if you remember.”

“That is not something I will ever forget—but he won’t show until much later. Probably already drunk, if his past escapades are of any indication.”

I look to Thalion again, and whether it’s to defy his orders or appease the fluttering under my skin, I cannot be sure…

I set my hand in the prince’s and lead us to the center of the ballroom. Guests scuttle from our path, creating a wide space under a chandelier. I spin, a fragment of my dress curling around Caspian’s leg before slipping back to mine. He smiles coyly as I secure my open hand over his shoulder.

This is a performance. For them. The prince and the assassin—dancing for the entire kingdom’s witness .

But it is also for us…a production long overdue. The prince —caught in a deadly game that has succeeded in blurring the line I created between revenge and desire.

My fingers find the lapels of his vest as we begin our movement. Our feet find a steady rhythm, weaving together skillfully. We spin and my eyes catch on Isaiah, who leans against the wall with a drink and pins me with a look that certainly says, “I was right.”

He’ll pay for that later.

The assortment of perfume is heavier here, mixed with the aroma of lingering sweat. It’s not unpleasant, though I’m certain that is due to the prince’s scent masking a majority of it.

“Tell me something about you,” the prince insists, my abdomen clenching at the words.

“Like?” The hand on my waist presses in until our clothes brush, and sweat begins to bead against my neck.

His eyes remain connected to mine, as if there is nothing else in this room for him to see. “Something no one else knows.”

“I’d argue that you already know more about me than any other living person.” His brows dip. If he wishes to know the meaning of my words, he doesn’t ask. Instead, he watches me with an unimpressed look, and I realize I want to tell him something no one else knows.

“My favorite color is purple—not bright purple, but the soft kind. ”

“Like lavender?” he whispers, his lips molding the word perfectly.

“Yes.”

He pauses our dance as his fingers trail lightly down my waist, over the sensitive skin at my hip until he grips my thigh just above the blade and lifts. I arch into him and grasp his neck as he dips me back. I attempt to steady my breathing, my collected mask slowly dissolving. The silk of his hair cools my tingling hand, and I’m certain the Aether can hear the pounding of my heart.

A finger taps against the blade—not mine.

“You have yet to threaten my life with this today…that must be a record,” he teases, raising my body as he pulls my leg further over his hip.

“Why don’t we rectify that?” I grab his neck with my free hand, sliding the other down his chest until it covers his. He smiles boyishly as my fingers push under his grasp and wrap around the hilt of my blade, dragging it up my thigh. It scrapes lightly against my skin, though the prince doesn’t allow for anything else as he tightens his hold.

His gleaming eyes remain on mine as I position the blade just over his throat, being irritatingly reminded of our audience when the whispers begin.

Have they not been whispering this entire time?

“I’m beginning to think you enjoy when I do this,” I admit breathlessly, the tone of my voice foreign to my ears .

He leans closer. “I’ll enjoy anything you do to me…” A challenge.

My breath hitches when the music changes to a fast-paced tempo that procures many new dancers.

“Sil—Ariella, there you are. I—” Bastian pauses, registering the scene before him. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes.”

“No.” Caspian’s gaze hardens, a shadow passing through his stormy eyes. I pull my blade back and continue holding my leg against his hip when his hand releases, sliding it down his pants after sheathing the weapon.

“Well, thank you for keeping my date company, cousin.” My head snaps to Bastian as my nose scrunches.

“I am not your anything—I’d get that through your fucking head before I become your killer.” His half-smile falters, the color of his cheeks lightening.

The prince laughs deeply, slapping Bastian on the shoulder. “Don’t be scared, cousin…she’ll only bite if you ask nicely.”

Men.

I pivot to walk in the direction I last saw Isaiah, thanking the Angel when he’s still leaning against the wall. He hides his smile behind a drink as I approach, snickering to himself.

“Fuck off, Is.” I jab him in the throat, forcing him to hold out his drink to avoid spilling it. He laughs through a cough, smacking his chest .

“I don’t know what’s more amusing…seeing the hearts in your eyes when you danced with the prince, or watching them disappear the moment your escort arrived.” He’s prepared for me this time, quickly sliding from my attack.

I snatch his drink and finish it off, grimacing at the overly-tangy cider he chose. “Where’s Ally?”

He sighs loudly. “Bathroom—though I’m worried she’s lost by now.” I lean a shoulder against the crimson tapestry, studying his profile.

“You really like her, don’t you?” His lips purse to poorly hide his answering smile.

“You don’t…” A question and a statement. His expectant eyes slide over to me as I shrug.

“It doesn’t matter what I think…you know that,” I mumble, tapping the compact prison around my neck.

Another song begins playing, the happy tone a deep contrast to the looming conversation. It hurts—what he’s thinking. This man would impale himself on a blade before allowing me to die in this competition.

The reality of our truths squeezes my chest too tightly.

He’d surrender his life to save me. I will do the same for him…the difference being that I planned to die, anyway. It was my fate before the competition was even announced. But if it wasn’t, what would I have done ?

I sigh, a finger tapping against my chilled thigh. I know in my soul that I’d have made the same decision either way. Though he will certainly blame himself for my death—unless I tell him of my plans.

I need another drink.

“Ari, I know what you’re going to say…but just hear me out, okay? I—”

“No,” I interrupt sternly. “No, I will not fucking talk about this with you. This will not be an argument; I’ve already decided what will be done, and that’s final.”

His shoulders slump as his head falls back on a heavy groan. It may be the first—and only—time that I am grateful for Ally’s presence. She saunters to our tense bubble, looking between Isaiah and me cautiously.

“Everything okay?” Her hands clasp in front of her as she squirms in place. “I can go if you need…”

I push from the wall and straighten, donning an emotionless mask once more. “Not necessary. Is was just mentioning how he’d like another dance with you.” Her face brightens, and she reaches for Isaiah’s hand as he threatens me with a look that says we will be discussing this later.

We certainly will not.

The high-pitched notes across the ballroom deepen, slowing to a calm, sensual song. My lip curls at the dozens of couples smiling fondly at each other .

I could leave…I’m sure it has been long enough that my head will not be blown from my body if I walk out those doors. The guests have all feasted their eyes on the Silver Wraith and her fellow competitors, which is all this absurd ball was for. I chew on my bottom lip, assessing the risks.

“Might I have this dance?” If I ever meet the Angel…I whirl to Bastian, pinning him with a dense glare. He bristles, though manages to keep his hand out. “Just one? You did say yes, if you need reminding.”

I take one step. “Did I?” He nods irresolutely. Pathetic, really. “And why is it you presume that because I said yes to some ridiculous fucking question days ago, that you’re owed the privilege of my company?” Another step. “As if my decisions cannot change? As if your desire for my attention is greater than my contempt for you?” His mouth gapes before he clears his throat and straightens his offensive gilded jacket. He studies me for a moment before scoffing, sneering to himself as his head shakes.

“Who knew you were such a fucking tease?” This—his anger, his retaliation…this is where I thrive. I smile, the darkened haze in my mind easing.

I unsheathe my blade and spin it lightly through my fingers, counting the number of veins bulging from his neck. “Truthfully, Bastian, you’d have to be the realm’s most daft person to not know that. I’ve hidden nothing…you just constructed a different version of me in your head. Likely because you wished to fuck me an d needed to delude yourself into thinking I am not the killer everyone believes me to be. That was your mistake—not mine.”

He laughs, his gaze darkening into something depraved. “You’re right. I am undeniably owed something.” Faster than even I can comprehend, his hand reaches up to squeeze my cheeks as he leans forward to slam his lips against mine. His grip is so tight, I’m certain I’ll need to heal bruises in the morning.

I bend my wrist to shove my blade through his palm, pulling the limb back quickly enough to spare my skin of blood. He screeches and jerks his hand off the blade as he pins me with wide, glassy eyes.

“What the fuck? You crazy bitch!” He stumbles back into the wall as I move forward to wipe my blade on his jacket. The irony of his blood soaking into the golden fabric is not lost on me.

I press the blade to his chest until his eyes focus on mine. “You took what you thought you were owed.” I soak the last of the blood over his heart before spinning to stalk from the ballroom. “So did I.”