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I straighten but force myself not to bark out,Fucking excuse me?My fingers knot into my dress. “Sorry?” I ask, trying to maintain decorum and poise, but The Prince’s eyes trail to the movement of my fingers. I force myself to relax my fists, my knuckles white from the way they curled inward out of reflex. I half expect to be found out right then and there, but instead, The Prince smirks.Smirks.
“Did you know the late King’s son wishes to marry?” The Prince asks. He looks me up and down for what must be the millionth time, before he adds, “I think he’d like you.”
I chill.What’s a higher bid than marriage to an Estal?I wet my lips and hold his gaze. Maybe a demure fawn of a woman would back down from the challenge in his tone. Maybe I should do exactly that.But job be damned, if there is a Fate on the line.“How do I reach him?” I demand.
The Prince’s dark brows fly up above his mask. “Eager, are you?”
“I asked you a question.” My words have a bite, but I don’t care. One of my two words of intention islies. There’s no better solution than the truth, and that can only be found from a Fate like Cristen Estal.
The Prince settles back into his chair. “It’s invitation only.”
“What is?”
“He’s holding a sort-of…contest.” The Prince shares a glance with his sister, but she only gives him a bored shrug. He blows out a breath and gestures to me. “You’d have to go up against some of the fiercest female Royalists in the kingdom. Fight them for your place at Prince Cristen’s side.”
“Easy,” I say with so much certainty that I inwardly curse myself.You’re not fucking violent tonight. Get a hold of yourself.
The Prince, however, gives me a broad smile. “You’d be surprised. Most of the women who’ve received invitations have been trained since birth to later go into battle. They’re warriors every second of their day, and their wealthy lineage led to years of access to the finest teachers. Prince Cristen doesn’t just want a bride. He wants a partner and protector.”
“Have you met him?” I ask, mostly because I can’t believe he has.
As a Fate, Cristen Estal has the rarest magical ability in the entirety of Mirror. He’s kept to the shadows all his life, forced to be hidden away from society lest someone kidnap him or murder him. People have done far more for far less, and Cristen can see Fate, itself. It’s never been clear whether he can see the future, the past, or something in between. There’s only lore that’s spread through Estal Kingdom and the other territories of Mirror.
The Prince traces a tattooed finger over the felt tabletop. “You will tell the Boss you came here for that I don’t exist,” he says, ignoring my question.
I narrow my eyes, about ready to tell him he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, but then he lifts his gaze lazily from his finger to my eyes, and I falter under the magnitude of his gaze. The more I look into the silver of his eyes, the more colors I find swirling within, as if the gray is merely a haze hiding his true irises.It could be an illusion. They could all be an illusion, I remind myself. It wouldn’t be out of a Boss’s reach to pay an entire thread for illusion magic.
The Prince considers me for another moment before he shares another look with his sister and nods. “You’re invited,” he says, and with those words, the room tilts.
I clutch the table and suck in a breath to steady myself, the swirl of my vision brief but enough to knock my confidence down. Magic latches around my ring finger, and I hiss as a long, purple thread seeps from that finger’s tip. It writhes and shimmers in the air as it pulls toward The Prince.
He reaches out and grabs it before he opens a pouch at his waist and shoves it inside.
“I didn’t say I accept your invitation,” I growl, “and you never said anything about me needing to pay my way in.”
The Prince cinches the pouch closed, then hands it to his sister. “Do you really think I’d do business with someone who isn’t going to pay for my time?”
“Don’t be a fool, Zora, because we know you aren’t one,” Talis says with an annoyed grimace.
The Prince and The Princess whip their heads toward Talis as my spine goes ramrod straight. “How do you know my name?” I ask, all pretenses leaving me.
“Talis,” The Princess sneers.
Talis huffs and rolls his eyes, trying to play cool even as he shoots an apologetic look to his Bosses. “It must have been a lucky guess.” Then he adds, “I’ve heard about you enough to know who you are.”
I bite my tongue.That could be true, but I can’t write off the Bosses reactions.I shove up from the table and turn my back on them, striding to the black curtains in immediate retreat. It’s that or fight them, and while I know I’m lethal, I don’t like my 3-to-1 odds.
“Wait!” The Prince calls after me.
I almost laugh at that, then take one last step into the curtain. The ground whooshes out from under my feet, and I bristle as I land in a deserted ballroom. The Royalist’s party is over, and my stilettos echo throughout the massive, empty room as I hurry to the exit.
“Zora.”
I quicken my pace at the sound of The Prince’s voice. “Keep following me and I’ll be forced to kill you,” I shoot back toward him.
His shoes click rapidly as he jogs to catch up.
My heart races, and I grit my teeth.Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I spin around and reach under the slit in the thigh of my dress to my holster. I rip out a knife and hurtle it toward him.
