Chapter 54
When I take Desmond’s hand, his touch jolts through me. His familiar calluses slide against my palms, an anchor in this sea of tittering nobles and swarming guards. My heart flutters as if I’m leaning over a cliff.
“You don’t need to be nervous,” he says, even though there’s no way he should know with the bond gone. He walks me to the outer ring of dancers. “I’ll lead.” His other hand rests on my back, steady and comforting.
“That won’t stop me from stepping on your toes.” I mirror the other couples. Then I do my best to memorize the slow box step. “People will know I don’t belong here.”
“They won’t. Trust me,” he says with so much sincerity that it startles me.
He pulls me a step closer, and I’m too aware of the lack of space between us.
My breath catches as I gaze up at him. His hazel eyes used to be so cold and calculating.
Now they’re blazing with heat behind the mask.
They lure me in, trapping me with a desire stronger than any magic.
I want to dance with him. I want to feel his warmth, to dare to step closer until his firm chest presses against mine. Earlier today, I feared I’d never see him again. Now, all I want to do is prove to myself that he’s alive, to feel every hard plane of his body underneath my hands.
Swallowing, I force the thought to quiet. We haven’t escaped yet, and I can’t afford to lose my focus, even if he’s gazing at me like I’m all that exists in the world.
“What do I need to do?” I ask him. I pretend I don’t notice how his thumb rubs slow circles into my hand, sending currents of content through me.
“Loosen your limbs. Stay light on your feet. It’s not so different from combat. The moves are only more repetitive.”
I stumble, and he tightens his grip on me so I don’t fall into him. A couple nearby snickers. I fight the urge to snap the heels off her shoes with my magic. I can’t risk drawing attention to us.
I sigh. “I feel a hundred pairs of eyes on me.”
“Don’t look at them. Look at me.” He lets go of me long enough to lift my chin, and his touch lingers, trailing down the sensitive path of my neck to the hollow of my collarbone.
My skin lights on fire in the wake of his gentle caress.
I shiver. He smiles, having noticed it. “Maybe if I’m lucky, you won’t slap me by the end. ”
I laugh as I remember that remark I made at Norwynhald. “It’s a shame I never followed through on that threat,” I tease, not meaning a word of it. “What did I call you, again? Incorrigible?”
“Intolerable,” Desmond answers. “How could I forget such glowing praise? Or our first dance?”
My face flushes. I had never considered that jig in Grimulf Square to be our first dance because I had never considered there might be another. Now, my feelings are nothing short of desire, ignited by the thin space between our bodies and the nearness of his lips. I wish we were alone.
“You’re not intolerable anymore.” I smile, warmth fluttering within me.
I spend the first four rotations fumbling over my feet, but he’s patient as I search for the rhythm. When he spins me, I see Finnian with his hand extended to Min, but Desmond spins me back around before I see if she takes it.
A grimacing guard weaves past us, reminding me that we’re still in danger.
“I forgot to ask earlier. What happened to Olin’s arrow?” I whisper.
“The guards left it in Auri’s quiver. They didn’t know what it was. It’s hidden within her dress by Nog’s magic.”
“What will you do with it now?” I swallow thickly with guilt. “I ruined your plan.” I’m still selfishly glad that I didn’t lose Desmond, but the cost was losing his deal with Eldon. Now the treaty is broken, and the gods only know how many horrific battles will come.
Desmond frowns as he glances at the balcony. “I wouldn’t say the plan has failed yet.”
“You don’t seriously mean. . .” Dread flares within me.
I dig my fingernails into him so he’ll look at me again.
The heat that was pooling in my body cools like ice crackling over water.
“We just broke you out,” I hiss. “You will not do something as reckless and idiotic as attempting to go through with it again!”
He meets my gaze, regret etched into his grimace. “I can’t abandon my people.”
No. My stomach drops, and my next breath is stuttered as horror churns within me. This can’t be happening. I want the fae to be free, almost more than anything—almost as much as I want him.
“Don’t abandon me,” I beg him. I’ll kneel or clasp my hands, anything to change his mind. I know it’s the most selfish thing I could ask of him, but there has to be another way.
Desmond startles, the whites of his eyes flaring.
“You said words should speak louder than violence. Queen Orla is right there. What if I try to convince her?” I squeeze him, desperately hoping it might work. When I freed him from his cell, I thought I wouldn’t lose him again. I thought we were free from that nightmare.
His surprise gives way to sorrow. “We both know you can’t, Cynthia. No one can. Deitra and I have already tried.”
“Then promise me that you’ll escape. You won’t let them catch you,” I whisper.
If he has to do this, if there’s no other way, then he can at least vow that he’ll survive it.
“When the dust settles, you can come with me. We’ll explore the continent together, even if we have to hide who we are.
That’s your dream, isn’t it? I just got you back and the thought of losing you again—”
“What kind of king would Eldon be if he let his mother’s murderer go?” Desmond’s lip curls, but he continues. “The terms he set were clear that he’d need someone to punish.”
“That person doesn’t have to be you,” I beg, even though I know Desmond would never accept anything else. “Please—”
He cups my cheek, surprising me. He leans toward me until we’re so close that his curls brush against my forehead. “Don’t say it.” The words are a low plea. “Or you’ll have broken me just as you promised, body and soul.”
As I remember my own words, I inhale a tight breath. When we first sparred, I told him there were plenty of ways to break a male. I never meant for it to be like this.
I memorize the way his dark hair shines gold in the light. I map the calluses that caress my jaw, the rhythm of the scar on his chin. The tension between us is a precipice between pain and desire, sanity and madness.
I swallow, struggling to keep my voice even. “Please, Desmond. Explore the world with me.”
The war inside of him is visceral, his teeth grazing his bottom lip as he holds my gaze. My heart beats so wildly that I’m afraid to know what he’ll say next.
He kisses me.
Lightning coils through me as the softness of his lips gives way to a demanding heat, as if he can’t hold himself back. His tongue tastes and takes as he holds me against him.
I moan into him, gripping his doublet to pull him closer. He kisses me like he needs me more than air. The world could burn around us, and he still wouldn’t let me go.
This feels like fate—a moment that I’ve always wanted, even before I knew it could exist. The yearning between us pulls stronger now than the vow ever did. I never want to let him go. I’ll die if I do.
Dancers swirl around us, but we still kiss, even as the music dims and blossoms into another waltz. Even as the crowd murmurs, perilous attention surrounding us.
Then Desmond pulls away. He looks at me with what I dare to think is love, as though I’m his entire world.
I already miss his lips. My cheeks burn, and my chest is tight, but I hold his gaze. “Was that kiss your answer?”
His silence is as sharp as a dagger to the throat. The light in his hazel eyes dims like dusk kissing the earth.
“It was goodbye,” he says, his voice cracking.
I let go of him. My heart wrenches as I step away, as if distance might lessen the pain clawing through my body.
My ears ring, drowning out the music. Something within me screams, then shatters until I’m gasping for air.
He’s still going through with it. After everything, he’s going to sacrifice himself. He’s going to—
My stomach twists so tightly that tears sting my eyes. They seep underneath my mask, and I wish I could throw the thing off and cry until my voice breaks. I turn away, forcing myself to breathe, but my lungs are too tight, the dress suddenly a vise squeezing my ribs.
It would hurt too much to look at Desmond, so I stare out at the ballroom. Prince Ronan dances with his partner, the other guests giving them a wide berth. My body trembles as I watch them, desperate to distract myself from Desmond. He’s still waiting for my reply.
Ronan’s partner is shorter than I am, but a height that’s too familiar.
A glittery, golden sheen winds up the bodice of her peony-pink gown, and delicately wrinkled layers fall like petals from her waist. Her blond hair is tied into an elegant bun with a matching ribbon, and as she turns, I stare at her masked face.
Metal fashioned to resemble lace frames her delicate nose and dark brown eyes. My stomach hollows, but the look Ronan gives her is what damns it all.
It’s just how he looked at her from the carriage on her birthday. Yet the dark veins in her neck are gone, as though that day in the barrow has been erased from time.
“I need to go,” I murmur. I’m so hollow inside, as if someone’s carved out every bone from my body.
“Should I come with you?” Desmond asks, his voice tight.
I don’t look at him. I don’t want to see if he’s stricken with guilt. I don’t want to lose my threadbare control and give us all away. How could I have been so stupid to believe that I was his world when he already has one? A world that needs him more than I ever could?
That thought doesn’t make it hurt any less.
“No.” Then I walk away, not looking back once. My hands shake. I clench them tight.
Desmond doesn’t follow.
I walk the outskirts of the ballroom and wait in the shadows until a dignitary calls for Ronan. He politely asks the woman in pink to excuse him and then joins the other noble. The woman smiles demurely and stares about the room in wonder in a way no frequenter of Avedor’s court ever would.
This is my chance. I weave through the crowd, not letting her out of my sight. Her blissful gaze drifts past me, then swings back. Her lips part, brows knitting in confusion.
I grab her arm and pull her toward the windows, far away from the prince. She follows me without protest, but as soon as I stop, she wrenches her arm back. “You left me again to attend a ball?” she snaps.
“I left to save my friends from execution. The execution you sentenced them to!”
She sniffs and turns her head, both dismissing me and looking toward Prince Ronan.
I swerve to block her view. “Is this the reward the crown gave you? An invitation to Ronan’s ball? Was it worth betraying your sister?” In my heart, I know that’s not all he gave her. I just can’t bring myself to say it aloud.
Evie glares at me. “This is exactly what you wanted me to do, isn’t it?
” The angry flush of her face travels even past her mask.
“If I became a vapid lady with adoring servants to watch over me, you could leave without thought or care for your family. You betrayed me!” Her voice shudders with resentment, and her fists clench.
I reel back. “Evie. . .”
“You said you’d take me to a healer. You said you’d help us choose a house in Mythos.
And then you left again, and we all figured you wouldn’t return this time.
Why would you want to when all that waits for you in Nettlerock is a drafty house our great-grandparents built stone by stone, loving parents who stink of slop and sod, and a doting sister who’s always looked up to you? ”
Every word mercilessly cleaves into me. “Evie, I—”
“You wanted me to climb above our station and care for our parents! You wanted me to find a suitor who’d love me! Well, here I am, Cynthia, doing exactly what you wanted of me!” A frustrated tear rolls down the edge of the mask, dripping onto the floor. “You have no right to be angry with me.”
Nothing she said was a lie. The realization is even more brutal than Desmond’s goodbye. I don’t want to lose the man I’ve fallen for, but how could I ever stomach losing my sister? We didn’t need a vow. Our bond was formed the day she was born. It was supposed to be unbreakable.
I did this. Not Evie.
“Are you alright, Miss Evangeline?” someone asks behind me.
I spin around to find Ronan watching us, shockingly concerned.
“I’m fine. This woman is pestering me out of jealousy,” Evie says, already stepping around me.
Despite myself, my face screws up in anger. “You’re just going to—”
A scream pierces the crowd, and when another follows, the music falters.
“Look out!” someone yells.
A guard falls from the balcony and splats onto the pink marble floor with a sickening crack. An arrow juts out from his eye, black liquid dripping from the wound.
Oh gods. My body seizes with fear that I’ll find Desmond on the balcony, but I force myself to look up.
Gashil.
He stands with one foot planted against the banister, looking down on us like a predator admiring his prey. He’s surrounded by fomorians with their weapons already drawn. They cut through the guards like straw, nullifying every ward and offensive Gift the guards try to stop them with.
Gashil pushes off the banister and follows them. When they reach the royal family, my heart leaps to my throat.
Because the first one Gashil kills is Eldon.