Chapter 22
Chapter
Twenty-Two
NISSA
The dress I selected for tonight is beautiful and perfectly suited for me.
Sage green, with a romantic, flowing silhouette, it sweeps to the floor in a way that’s formal enough for the occasion but still comfortable.
The floral embroidery around the neckline and lace bodice is whimsical and adds just enough detail to make it stand out.
I’ve pinned my curled hair to the side and let it fall over the front of one shoulder, exposing the delicate leaf-shaped earring, dangling from the tip of one pointed ear.
I summon a smile at my reflection, feeling confident, but it doesn’t reach my eyes.
I’ve been eyeing this dress since they put it in my closet, and I love how I look in it.
That doesn’t mean I want to go through with tonight’s dinner.
I can’t shake the feeling that Caspien is just using me.
A stepping stone he’s dusted off to get what he wants.
I know the witch said to trust him, but it still feels wrong.
Nova and he had time to form a relationship, no matter how distorted it may have been.
They knew each other, maybe even loved each other on some level.
It’s conceivable that they would want to bond their lives together.
But Caspien just needs me—the other twin born on the same day as him—so he can be crowned and replace his father as king.
Otherwise, I suspect I would already be back at the Homestead with Ophe.
Taking a deep breath, I steel myself to meet him in the private dining room.
But when I get to the break in the hallway, I hesitate and turn towards the studies instead.
It’s one hundred percent because I’m a few minutes early and have decided to kill time, I assure myself.
It’s not because I’m hoping to run into Cillian.
What reason would I have to want that?
I flex my hands and rub them over the skirt of my dress. Cillian’s study door is cracked open with light streaming into the hallway. The click of my heels slows as I remember Isolde’s warning.
If Cillian really does have feelings for me, they’re pointless. I shouldn’t encourage him. I take a step backwards. I need to turn back the way I came.
Just as I do, he slowly pushes the door open, expression on alert. His features soften when he sees me. “You look beautiful.” His blue eyes darken as his gaze rakes over me. He takes a slow step in my direction.
“Thank you,” I almost whisper. I try to sound a little more confident. “I’m on my way to dinner with—” I choke back Caspien’s name.
Cillian’s jaw tick as he realizes why I’m dressed up. I didn’t bring up the dinner to hurt him, but we both need to be realistic. No, I don’t plan to go through with the coronation, but he doesn’t know that. And I’ll be gone either way. There is no us in the end.
“Right. Well, enjoy.” His face is an emotionless mask as he turns back towards his office.
My feet are rooted to the spot.
When he realizes I haven’t moved, he leans against the doorframe. “I assume you were in the archives because of the prophecy? Niko told me what the witch said to you. If you need help figuring it out, I’m here.”
My eyebrows rise so high they may very well be in my hairline. Would someone trying to hide something offer to help? Maybe if they were trying to keep me from finding something.
“Could you help me get in touch with that young priestess? She may know about any prophecies.”
He immediately nods. “I’ll wisp her. It may take some convincing. Gaia wasn’t happy about the last time. I was thinking there may be something in the ancient archives,” he adds.
“I’ve been looking in the archives for days.” I tilt my head at him.
“The ancient archives are different. They have some of the more sacred accounts, more in-depth histories of Castara. I’ve been intending to go there myself to look into any history about the storms and the elemental lands. I could take you.”
Every fiber of my being wants to accept. “Thanks for the offer. I’ll let you know.”
“I know you think everyone is lying to you right now. I have no doubt that some are. But I’m not. I promise you, you can trust me, Nissa.”
It feels like his words wrap directly around my heart and squeeze, making it hard to breathe, much less respond. I give a tight nod before reluctantly turning away to hurry back down the hall.
Caspien is there when I round the corner, and he doesn’t seem happy to have been kept waiting. Arms folded across his chest, he’s scowling.
“Hi.” I try to smile through the pit forming in my stomach.
After a moment, he gives an answering smile. Dropping his intimidating stance, he leans forward and briefly brushes his lips across mine.
Ice fills every crevice of my being. The pit in my stomach turns into full blown nausea.
“Hi,” he says, still smiling down at me. Like he didn’t just kiss me for the first time, no matter how fleeting it was.
Still in shock, I let him grab my hand and pull me into a private dining room.
He pulls out a chair for me, and I sink into it, regretting everything about this night already.
But I know I have to pull it together and remember my goal.
First, I need to feel him out, see if I get the sense that I can trust him.
And second, I want to ask about the prophecy. See if he knows anything.
He takes the seat next to me, and I feel his hand on my thigh under the table. His touch feels wrong. The soft fabric of my dress is the only thing between him and my skin. Even with the thin barrier I feel naked, and all I want to do is cover up.
“You look beautiful in this dress,” he says, giving my leg a light squeeze.
Goosebumps cover me, and I shift away. Trying not to shudder, I take his hand and place it on top of the table. I summon a faint smile, hold it for a moment to avoid being completely obvious, give his fingers a gentle squeeze.
His mouth tightens, but he doesn’t call me out. I’m relieved when a servant interrupts, placing two elemental experiences in front of us.
“I hope it’s okay. I ordered you verdant dewdrops,” he says as he inhales the black smoke of his experience.
I lift the cupful of tiny glowing droplets to my lips. The rich taste of moss and honey fills my mouth, instantly calming me as it hits my tongue.
We spend the first course of the meal, a golden nectar bisque, discussing my lessons with his mother. The conversation moves smoothly, his charm and charisma clear as he focuses on me and my life since moving into the castle.
After we both finish the perfectly seared moonfish and spring root vegetables, I take advantage of the slight lull in the conversation. I sit up a little straighter. “How did your meeting with the council in Varethiel go?” I ask, steering the topic in the direction I want.
He takes a slow sip of his second elemental experience, a small flame-filled cup that smells of cinnamon and ginger. “It was uneventful until your return.”
I’m unsure if he’s referring to Cillian’s reaction to me or what happened on my tour of the city. But the one thing I do know is that the last thing I want to discuss is my relationship with his brother.
Summoning an encouraging smile, I muse, “I don’t suppose Aiden gave you a full confession the moment I left the room?”
“Considering the fact that he left with you, no.” His voice is flat
I shift in my seat.
He takes mercy on me and continues, “But no, he didn’t confess anything upon his return.”
“Is he always like that? Or did the way he was speaking confirm for you that he was”—the staff enters the room to drop off a blossom-flame tart—“involved?” I choose the last word carefully. I don’t want to give away what we are talking about to any humans.
I dip my fork into the vanilla orchid cream that fills the pastry.
“Aiden has always been an arrogant bastard. I can’t be sure if he was just trying to mess with me or if he was gloating. I’m continuing to look into it though.” His dark eyes track my fork as I lick the cream off.
My cheeks warm. I blurt, “Do you know anything about a prophecy that refers to me as a ‘mirrored princess’?”
He leans back in his chair. “I’ve never heard of any prophecy that includes that term.
” He thinks for a second longer. “The High Priestess reviewed the history and prophecies after our births. I’d think she would have mentioned something like that.
Why do you ask?” His burning gaze sweeps back to me.
His question throws me off. I’d assumed Niko filled him in about the witch. “Just something I thought someone called me.” I return my attention to my plate, moving the dessert around.
He places his hand over mine. “You seem nervous, Nis.”
The name sounds wrong coming from him—forced. I swallow the instinct to tell him not to call me that. We’re supposed to be bound together in a matter of days. I can’t afford to make him wonder. The touching, the nickname… he’s using this dinner to build intimacy between us.
It’s exactly what I implied we needed not so long ago at the memorial.
So why does the realization make me want to run and not stop until I’m—where? Back at the Homestead with Ophe? Out of this world all together? Heat fills my stomach when I realize where I want to run. Or rather to whom.
Caspien leans forward and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “What am I doing wrong, Princess?”
I fight back a guilty wince at his use of my title. I look up to the ceiling, shaking my head. “You’re not… I just…” I take a breath. “It’s just all happening really quickly. In my head you’re still Nova’s betrothed, not mine. This life was never mine.”
The words may not be the whole truth, but they are true.
“I understand.” He nods to himself. “The mate bond will take away all these thoughts.” He runs a knuckle down my cheek to my jaw, giving me a knockout smile certain to work on any other female.
But it’s doing nothing for me. In fact, it’s having the exact opposite effect.
I’m supposed to be bound to this man in a week, and my body wants nothing to do with his touch. My chest tightens, and it’s hard to breathe. My mind flashes to the one person who does make my body react. If I weren’t already planning on leaving Castara, this would lock the decision in stone.
“We’ll get there,” he soothes, his features soft as he reassures me.
After that he shifts the subject to something lighter. We spend the next hour trying to get to know each other better. Which only solidifies for me that I have nothing in common with this male.
Once the plates are cleared, he insists on walking me back to my room. With each step, he subtly brushes against me. With each touch, another chill slides over my body. I’m glad when we reach my door, eager to make a quick escape. Instead, he grabs my waist and pulls me towards him.
I freeze as he snakes his hand around me to the exposed back of my dress. The heat of his hand feels like ice on my chilled skin. Before I can react, he leans down and presses his lips to mine. It’s forceful this time, not the soft brush of the earlier kiss. His tongue pushes against my tight lips.
Shocked, I gasp, wriggling to free myself from his touch. Ice is spreading through every nerve of my body. He steps us backwards into my door, his wet tongue sliding across the seam of my lips, demanding entrance.
The cold is seeping into my bones now and snaps me out of the shock. I shove his chest. He doesn’t budge. Instead, his hips press into me, leaving no doubt how aroused he is.
I push again, this time wrenching my head to the side. “Please.” The word comes out shakier than I want.
He moves his lips to my neck.
My body begins to shiver uncontrollably, but I can’t form words. I push harder, and he finally pulls his head away. When I look up at him, there is no denying the frustration in his eyes.
He must feel the tremors because after a few blinks, he asks, “Are you okay?” Tilting his head, he runs his hands up and down my arms.
“I th-think I’m s-sick,” I manage, shivering harder.
His eyes narrow, as if he’s trying to decide if I’m lying, but he must believe me when the shaking gets worse.
“M-maybe it was th-the food.”
“I’ll call a servant for you.” Interest gone, he takes a large step back.
I just want him to leave. I shake my head and mumble, “I-I just need sl-sleep.” I flee into my room, shutting the door in his face.