Chapter 10
Night stretched its fingers, slowly pushing back the day’s burnt umber skies. Without pause, the ashes fell like rain, misting over the smoldering remains of the sun and disappearing into the swaths of night. At this hour, the world was a smog-ridden dream. In a strange way, it felt as though she could slip into its folds and disappear.
That was just wishful thinking, though. Elysia hadn’t even seen Topp yet, and her heart was threatening to explode. She rubbed her neck, her throat tight and hot with anxiety. She’d been dodging him more and more over the last few months. Easy enough when he’d been gone, working in other parts of Kava. But lately, he’d been home.
She’d done her best to see him during the day. Tried to keep her midnight escapes to a minimum. She blamed the unavoidable departures from his bed on early mornings with her father. But he wasn’t buying it anymore. His cunning green eyes had finally latched onto her bizarre behavior and he wanted answers. Elysia felt a chill run over her arms—she would just have to stay. Pick a day next week and stay. Stare at the ceiling all night and refuse to sleep. How in the world do you plan to marry him?
Fear gripped her chest. She was getting ahead of herself. All she had to do was get through tonight. She was an expert at hiding right in front of people, she reminded herself. The problem was, none of the people she hid from were him.
She swallowed and stepped in front of her mirror. Iron vines crawled and bloomed into the flowers that Kava could not have along the floor-length mirror’s edge. She stood, twisting this way and that to see her work. Wide straps met a sweetheart neck, the dark green silk flowing down and pooling around her feet. And the woman in the reflection stared back, eyes dark enough to hide the turmoil within.
Elysia let the door of her building fall heavy behind her, tugging on the bronze handle until the stubborn wood finally wedged itself all the way closed. Pulling her black cloak a little tighter, she stuck her face into the swell of frosted air and set off. Showtime.
Topp had offered to send a carriage, but she’d declined. She wanted as many people to see her as possible tonight. Hood down and ears stinging with cold, she lingered as she walked, making sure to stop for quick hellos and dropping empty promises for drinks.
By the time she arrived at the Boar’s Bones and slunk her way to the table, her nose and ears had been bitten a rosy pink. While the blush staining her cheeks originated from the ever present chill, the ruddy tinge high on Topp’s wide cheekbones was undoubtedly thanks to the dwindling gin in his glass.
The Boar’s Bones held the faintest reverberation of long lost magic. There was the magic that people once carried and then there was the magic that lived and breathed in all things. And in this instance, the culprit was both. Hanging from the ceiling were aged leather pouches filled with bones. Bones of the men, women, and children who had died when magic disappeared and Kava was almost overtaken. It was a Kavian tradition to keep a few bones of anyone who passed. Their people once believed that the spirit remained in the bones. Now, the bones hung as a reminder of all who died because of the fickle nature of magic. A visceral reminder not to trust magic or spirit in any form.
Elysia untied her cloak and handed it to the hostess, feeling the weight of Topp’s gaze as it followed her every movement. His head tilted. Green eyes glimmering as they traveled from the crown of her head to the silk that dusted the floor.
His eyes roved freely, studying—always studying—even if it never was the right thing. Her body, her breath. Oh, he loved to study those. And who was she to stop him? Especially if it kept him from turning those shrewd eyes where she did not wish for them to stray. By now, he was just as aware as her of the power of the lust between them and had no scruples about using it to his advantage.
But that wasn’t what made him dangerous.
What made him dangerous was that every single bright moment in her life had been a moment stolen with him. It was his loud ridiculous whispers that got them caught and her chaotic laughter as they broke every rule. It was squealing leaps from trees and forest chases that had grown from innocent to heart racing. It was his lips soft against her neck. And infinite locked, knowing gazes in rooms filled with people who were all pretending. It was the illusion that it would always just be them.
Standing here now, the sight of him made her ache—the fantasy of their love fading to nothing but a cold, hard crown.
Get your head in the game, Parker. She came here to find out what he knew. And that was exactly what she was going to do. She was on a schedule, for the gods’ sake.
Elysia let her eyes go heavy and a touch of a smile played at her lips, fingers dragging over the gentle line of her throat. “Hi, Topp.” His name was a barely there sound and yet his focus on her turned brilliant, as if she had spoken some truth he longed to hear.
And just like that, she was irrationally angry. So godsforsakenly angry. That he could look at her that way and still miss so much: the lost hours she couldn’t explain, the lies that fell like a veil over what had once been vibrant between them, the irrecoverable distance between who he was and the magic that would get her killed. She needed him to not notice, and yet, it killed her that he didn’t.
Topp lifted his chin, giving her a tempting sort of smirk. “You look good, Parker.”
Much to her fury, he was an expert at evading her frustration. Always defusing her anger in just the nick of time before she blew. It didn’t help that when he was in a good mood, he walked around with tricks playing in his gorgeous eyes. One look at them and a laugh wanted to bubble up like spring no matter how mad he made her.
If she was meticulous in her beauty, then he was unkempt perfection. Tousled and defiant, he always looked like he’d just been outside. She wanted to run her hands through his hair until it was mussed beyond all possible redemption. That was how she liked him.
He was magnetizing. An ax-wielding, forest-raised bear of a man with the brains of a fox who had been given a crown. And she was the fool who had fallen into his path, thinking she could outwit him.
He swiveled, his feet spreading wide and palms coming to rest on the smooth curves of her hips. His fingers pressed until she stumbled forward, her thighs now brushing his. He held her there, hands running up and down from thigh to hip as he stared into her wind-flushed face.
“You are such a curious thing,” he murmured, his eyes a vivid green spark in the low light.
The warmth of his breath ghosted over her, and she inhaled instinctively, pulling in the scent of him. Violent flutters rose within her chest and she cursed herself. Silent and ensnared, her attention was fully diverted.
“Tell me, why did you subject yourself to a thirty-minute walk in this unbearable weather?” His fingers trailed over the goosebumps covering her skin. Her responding shiver had absolutely nothing to do with the cold, and the wicked shine in his eyes said he knew it.
She pulled back against the loop of his arms, answering honestly. “Can’t stand being inside all day.”
He laughed, a short sound that broke the building tension. It was a sentiment he knew all too well. Always trying to hide such untamed blood behind a prince’s face.
“Ah, but you hate ruining pretty things even more.” He lifted the skirt of her dress to reveal her soft, practical leather boots. The silk fell back down, hiding all evidence of the sensible shoes.
She scowled, swatting his hands away and settling into her own chair. The server wisely chose this moment to step out of the shadows. Setting down a steaming bumblebee next to her, he departed without a word.
Elysia toyed with the cinnamon stick garnish, swirling it until the lemon twist swam through the drink’s amber waters. Taking the mug by its handle, she gingerly blew on its surface before taking a scalding sip. Eyes closed, a small sound of contentment slipped out of her. The spiced tea and gin was the perfect winter tonic, warming and loosening her frozen muscles.
She opened her eyes to see Topp’s face soften, his own eyes drinking in the sight of her melting—the day’s stress turning her languid instead of harsh. But then his eyes focused, narrowing the slightest bit as his mouth formed an unspoken question.
Her attention flared, seeing him lean back and kick his long legs out, crossing one ankle over another. She knew that face. It was the face of a man who was about to be a serious thorn in her side. Tap, tap. His fingers moved restlessly against his glass.
Oh, he was paying far too much attention this evening. She really had been hoping things wouldn’t have to go this way. She loved the food here, and now she wouldn’t get to eat it barely at all.
“You know,” he drawled slowly, “I seem to have been remiss in my duties to you, sweet Elysia, and I want you to know that the Crown takes this matter very, very seriously.”
She kept her face in her mug, hiding the stupid smile doing its best to take shape at his words.
“Is that so, Prince?”
He sat up straighter now, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward. “The servants whisper that the reason the Crown Prince’s woman looks so tired all the time is because the cold bastard never lets her stay. They say her heart beats anxiously with unrequited love.”
There was something in the shape, the glint of his eyes that had never seemed quite natural to Elysia, like there was a part of him that belonged to the woods and the trees and the hidden wild things that had no right or wrong, and she saw it there now, gleaming in the shadowed light of the flickering oil lamps.
It frightened her almost as much as it called to her.
Months of sliding out of his bed like a wraith in the night, and now he pinned her here without ever asking a single question.
One finger continued tapping the edge of his glass as he waited. Waited for the lies to spill off her sugared tongue.
But he knew lies as well as she knew secrets, and Elysia knew better than most when to hold her cards.
His hand stilled, the only hint of his frustration in the subtle work of his jaw when she didn’t respond to his subtle opening. “I knew I should have saved this conversation for after dinner.”
“And why didn’t you?” She kept her voice light, as if his insinuations meant nothing.
He held her eyes, his voice taking a heated edge. “Because I didn’t think it would be fair to ask you with my head between your thighs.”
He tossed back the rest of his glass, setting it down with a crack that made her jump. “If I was as cold or as ruthless as they say I am, then that’s what I would have done. What a smarter man would have done, since it’s the only time you seem to show yourself these days.” A short laugh rolled through his chest as his grin took a sharp twist. “But look at me. Being generous. Playing fair and giving you a chance before I lick the truth from your pretty cunt.”
Her eyes went wide and every last word choked in her throat.
Heat roared through her. Blood pounding and throbbing in inconvenient places. She should have known he would act out like this. Even on a good day, he loved torturing her in public. Seeing how flustered he could make her before he took her home and worked her over. His grin widened. He knew exactly what he was doing. And he clearly thought it would work.
Smug. Cocky. Bastard.
The waiter bravely cleared his throat and spoke dryly into the mounting tension. The tension Topp had so purposefully crafted. Elysia watched it all evaporate with four simple words.
“Your dinner, Your Highness.”
The server looked down his thin nose at the prince. His lips pressed into a smirk as he waited to be dismissed. Oh, he had definitely been listening . Elysia really couldn’t fault the man. Snooping was how she made a living, after all.
Topp stared as if he could light the man on fire with looks alone. Elysia raised a brow, watching him struggle to contain his blatant irritation. A feeling of airiness swooped through her as she bit back a grin. It was never fun having your plans foiled. But personally, she could have kissed the brash server for his interruption. His polished disregard for the crown prince was a delight that brought Elysia back into the room and out of the clutches of Topp’s filthy words.
“Thank you.” She gestured for the waitstaff to begin serving, shooting Topp a look that had him rolling his eyes and flopping back into his chair, his easy grin returning as quickly as it left.
She slowed now, basking in the ambiance of the candle-soaked room. Somewhere in a hidden corner, a woman poured herself into the keys of a piano. The rich timbre of her voice lamented that she was already one foot out the door while a man begged her to stay with the croon of his reply. Elysia sighed, sipping her drink and letting the music wash over her. There might not be a lot of restaurants to choose from within Relaclave—but the places that had survived the Fall sure did deliver.
She tore off a piece of bread, chewing and thinking carefully. Yes, she’d been worried. Worried that Topp might have noticed something was amiss. But the question was, what exactly had drawn Topp’s eye back to her? She needed to know just how fucked she really was before making any drastic decisions. He’d been distracted, content to let her come and go as she pleased. Months without comment and yet he struck now.
Somewhere there was sand running through a glass, and like animals closing in, those nearest and dearest to her were letting her know they were on her trail.
Elysia rolled a few pinches of herbs between her fingers, releasing the aromatics before dropping them into her soup.
“It’s funny,” she began. “I’ve been sneaking in and out of your rooms since you first came back to Relaclave after all those years away. And you know, I don’t think a servant ever once saw me.”
She stirred her soup leisurely and took a small mouthful of soup, musing on her own words. “It’s almost as if they were always sent away when I came over. Threatened, I would even dare to guess.”
She rolled her eyes at the unabashed expression on Topp’s face. Of course, he’d been threatening them within an inch of their lives all this time. Honor and propriety and all that nonsense. So ridiculous.
“Strange that they would now suddenly know my comings and goings, even though I have not seen a single face in these long months.” She kept eating as if this were their normal talk.
“Servants, guards, people in the street. They all watch you, Elysia, they watch you because who would not?” He crooked a grin, but then became deadly serious. “And they also watch you because you are with me.”
He raked a hand through his hair, the motion only serving to emphasize the thick muscle of his arm and make his hair even more unkempt than before. Elysia ripped her eyes back to his face. He was honestly trying to kill her. With looks and muscles. It was downright foul play.
Frustration bracketed his mouth. “Forget the servants. I don’t like you leaving in the middle of the night. I want to know why you’ve been slipping out like some one-night stand instead of the woman who’s been by my side for years. I’ve been busy, Elysia, but I have never been close to a fool. I don’t have to tell you that. You know exactly who I am. You know that I am many things, but blind and stupid are not on that list.” He breathed the last words, leaning closer over the table.
She choked, her spoon hovering in midair. “Topp... I just—” She should have planned better for this. She should have come up with something to say. Anything to say?—
The electric current that always seemed to spark like lightning on his skin, in his space, now viciously thrashed through his contained words.
“Didn’t want to tell me that someone threatened your life?”
Her spoon dropped, clinking and splattering soup on the table. The thunder that was his energy rolled over her, lifting all the tiny hairs on her skin. She lived for when he was like this—a raw, inhuman storm of emotion. She dreamed of being in the eye of that storm. Getting to see him unleashed and true. Maybe it was because no one here ever was and she was desperate for even a taste.
Elysia caught herself—her stomach bottoming out as reality crashed back in. It was too easy to see things where they were not when the heart was involved. It was too easy for her to want to believe the broken little girl’s dream that he would save her, protect her. That the man who had been her friend and lover would choose her in spite of her curse. She knew better than that. He will be your death.
She held still, her lips pressed. “Daphne. Daphne told you, didn’t she?”
Damn Daphne and her giant pastel mouth.
He took several breaths with his eyes clenched closed. “The problem, Elysia, is not that Daphne told me. The problem is that you didn’t.”
And then her gut rumbled on cue. A loud, painful cry from the pit of her stomach that made it clear what was to come. Sweat beaded on her brow and a fevered coloring blotched across her cheeks.
Call it a hunch. Woman’s intuition. The secrets that sung to her ears.
Or maybe it had been because he said they needed to talk , but she had come to this dinner prepared to make her exit from Topp Blatz. And because people did not often survive lying to their Crown Prince, Elysia had thought to make it real.
Just a pinch of zorela in her soup was all it took.
The person she got it from just called it pukeweed.
She doubled over in her chair with a gasp, her insides writhing. Gods, I hope I measured right . She had plans for tonight and really couldn’t afford to die. Oh, gods, she was going to puke all over at her favorite restaurant. Why couldn’t they have gone somewhere she hated?
Topp moved in a blink and was crouched at her feet, running a hand over her face.
“You’re burning. Are you going to be sick on me, Parker?” His voice, furious moments before, was now the voice that she knew few ever heard.
She nodded miserably.
He stood, sweeping her up onto her feet, and demanding her cloak. Top hat clutched in one hand and Elysia swaddled like a sweaty babe, he guided her, dazed and stumbling, outside.
Legs weak, and experiencing an altogether new kind of regret, Elysia held back a belch and swayed on her feet. This. Was such a mistake. She closed one eye, trying to steady herself and failing. Topp stopped in the alley of the Boar’s Bones, still holding her close and looking down with such concern that guilt rose up alongside her bile. The winds blew around them, tussling their hair, and a look crossed Topp’s face that she couldn’t distinguish. He buried his nose close to her as he held her and sighed, cursing more to himself than anything.
He didn’t say a word, though, just held her hair and stroked her back as she retched and heaved until she was limp in his arms, her eyes barely staying open.
She wasn’t sure how he knew she’d rather go to her flat than her rooms at the castle, but he got her home in a hurry, and rested beside her on the bed.
Her head pounded and her mouth was dry. He needed to leave, godsdamn it all, he needed to leave, or there was no point in her vomiting like she’d been exorcized of some putrid ailment.
“Topp.”
“Hmm?”
“Go home, will you?” Her voice cracked, and she tried to roll away from him. She must have puked more than just in the alley and simply couldn’t remember. It seemed like she could cross off healing and herbalism from the list of viable career options. There wasn’t a chance in the realms she’d dosed the zorela right.
Topp tugged on the blanket, rolling her back into his side. “And why would I do that?”
“Let me die in peace, for the gods’ sake,” she muttered into her pillow.
He paused. “If you hadn’t just lost your weight in fluids, I would properly let you know how I feel about you saying such things, sweet poison.”
Her eyes darted toward him nervously. Sweet poison? That was new. And a little too on the mark.
She’d willingly barfed her brains out in front of the crown prince. If the undead gods had an ounce of mercy in their bones, then he did not know what she had done.
But he stood from the bed, filling up the room with the crackling energy that was him, and made her flat suddenly seem a hair too small for them both, only to do something totally normal—he grabbed a cup and set about making her tea.
He opened her tea tin only to find it empty and sighed. “Seriously, Lys? You steal it from the castle, anyway.”
“Apologies, I’ll be sure to amp up my thieving as soon as I’m right again.” She shifted to sit up a little taller amongst the pile of pillows.
Elysia rested her eyes. “Thank you for getting me home.” She opened her eyes to find him looking at her intently, but she couldn’t quite hold his gaze. Not tonight.
He sat down beside her, the bed dipping with his weight, and brought his lips to her head, speaking against her hair. “You owe me a date. And about six months’ worth of sleepovers. I don’t care if I snore, or you have to work at the crack of dawn. I hate waking up and worrying about you.”
He kissed her hair and then he was gone. The door shut. And with its closure, all of their unasked questions slid back down to the unlit place between them—the place where all of their secrets lie with tangled limbs and eyes shut tight—never knowing the other.