Chapter 52
CHAPTER 52
Caspian
W aking up with the Autumn Prince in my bedroom wasn’t something I ever imagined happening. Farron is curled on the floor beside my bed in a bundle of blankets. He didn’t want to share with me.
Misty light shines in from the floor-to-ceiling balcony, illuminating my room. My bedroom is one of the few places in the Below I can stand. A beautiful vanity sits against one wall, next to a large wardrobe overflowing with garments of deep purples, rich maroons, and black. I cross to it and throw on a sheer robe, knotting it at my waist.
The crystal-lit fireplace crackles with sparks of bright pink, blue, and yellow.
Opening my door, I find breakfast already delivered. Carrying the silver tray, I cross to my bed and remove the lid to uncover a platter of freshly baked pastries and a bowl of pomegranate seeds. A pot of hot coffee steams beside it with small cups of cream and sugar.
“What’s that delicious smell?” Farron mumbles sleepily. He sits up, yawning and stretching. His shirt rides up to reveal his stomach.
“Sorry.” I take a bite out of one of the pastries. “Only enough for one. I don’t usually have overnight guests.”
“No, you prefer to send all your friends to us,” Farron sneers. He reaches up and snags the bowl of pomegranate. “Yet somehow, you weaseled your way into becoming the overnight guest,” he adds.
My hands are still on the coffee pot as I flash back to that night. Not just the physical sensations—which had been exquisite— but sleeping beside them. Rosalina in my arms, Kel’s hands in my hair.
“Are you jealous? Rosalina is quite the work of art.”
“She tells me everything, you know,” Farron says, finishing the bowl and reaching for my half-eaten pastry. “No. I’m not jealous. Unlike you, I prefer to trust people. If it’s Rosalina’s heart’s wish, I will not stand in the way.”
It’s more complicated than that. I know why it doesn’t tear Farron apart. Because we’re all her mates. But I lied to Farron about that, or at least let him believe I wasn’t. It won’t matter. If the Queen makes me human, it might very well destroy my mate bond. Then neither Farron, Kel, nor Rosie will be burdened with me.
Ezryn will probably throw a fucking party.
“Right,” I say and stride to my closet, grabbing a few pieces and tossing them to the floor in front of Farron. “Our special event occurs in four nights, but it’s never too early to prepare to look your best. It will be a masquerade, so no one will see your face. Though, you can’t very well go in a cute little leaf-lined vest.”
Farron rolls his eyes but gathers the clothes and pads into the attached bathroom. Meanwhile, I take a seat at the vanity, arranging the small pots of gels and powders.
“I’m not coming out in this!” Farron calls from the other room.
“If you don’t like it, it means you’ll fit right in at a Cryptgarden party.”
There’s a long sigh, and Farron shuffles out. A smirk tugs at the corners of my lips. He looks positively delicious. My leather pants cling to the lean muscles of his legs. The silk shirt is cut deep enough to show the contours of his chest. A black velvet cloak drapes over his shoulders. As he stands before me, dressed in my clothes and bathed in darkness and desire, I can’t help but feel a surge of possessiveness wash over me. He’s going to be such a spectacle at this party.
“Sit down across from me,” I say, patting the second stool.
Farron groans, plucking at the pants, and sits down.
“There’s still a few days to the party,” I say, picking up a pot of black smoky powder. “But we should prepare your look.” As much as I’d love to get this whole thing over with tonight, we have to give Kel time to get through the labyrinth.
“I thought my face would be covered.”
“Most of it. Close your eyes.”
Farron does, and it seems a shame to cover his face with anything. He is so effortlessly beautiful—the splash of freckles across his nose, his thick lashes and brows, the parted lips, and his wild auburn hair that he hasn’t even bothered to smooth since waking up.
“Is this some sort of trick?” Farron asks. “Or are you using magic to make me look as enchanting as you?” His golden eyes flash open. “Not that I—”
“You think I’m enchanting?”
“No,” he says quickly.
“I don’t even have to add blush, Autumn Prince. You’re already red.”
He gives a low growl in the back of his throat and closes his eyes. “Can we just get this over with?”
I begin by adding some smoky black around his eyes, then bronze under his cheekbones.
“I didn’t take you for it,” he says.
“Take me for what?”
“A reader.”
I glance away from him to my overcrowded bookshelf in the corner. “Kel said the same thing when he first came here. When you grow up in the Below, there’s not much that can help you escape.”
A muscle feathers in Farron’s jaw. Maybe he’s thinking of escaping from his own world, but I can’t fathom what Farron would need to escape from. He grew up with two doting parents, loving siblings, and a realm that adores him.
Maybe he’s thinking the same thing because his next question surprises me. “What’s your favorite type of book to read?”
“Why are you even bothering asking? I already saw you checking out the books last night.” I sigh, rubbing gel through his hair, changing the auburn to a deep brown. I take to styling it as well because he’s practically hopeless. “When I was young, I liked to read stories of the four seasonal realms. They seemed so different from down here.”
Farron is silent for a moment, and I realize his hands are near on my waist, unconsciously playing with the tassels of my robe. “There’re some books in Castletree’s library I think you might like. I could find them for you after all of this is done.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
His fingers still as if he’s finally realized how close his hands were to me. But he doesn’t move away.
“But you’ll have to check them out properly,” he says, smiling. “Or else Rosalina will kill me.”
“We wouldn’t want that. Open your eyes. I’m done.”
He does, turning to the mirror. He was always beautiful, but now he looks devastating. Dark-lined eyes, rouge-stained lips. His hair brushed to one side, looking just the right amount of disheveled.
“Imagine if Rosalina could see you now,” I say.
The wave of desire that pulses off him is maddening. My breath slows to deep intentional rasps. His golden eyes look like gemstones in a black wall.
“I guess you’re good at some things,” Farron says, hand patting my thigh through the sheer robe.
Stars, I haven’t even gotten dressed. What do I look like? My reflection shows my hair is a mess, and my own cheeks are flushed.
“What do we do now?” Farron breathes.
There are a million answers I want to give him, but right now, there’s only one that matters. I lean forward and reach past him, grabbing the crumbled piece of paper on the vanity. “Now that you look like a dark prince, we write a spell befitting one.”