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I shift my weight, feeling awkward as the women around us continue to stare. “What friend?” I whisper.
Just then, I spot Talis leaning against a pillar further up the banquet hall. His face is bruised, still swollen in some spots, but he’s alive and intact. He gives me a smirk, then a wiggle of his fingers in a wave.
Gretta pulls me toward him, but I stop her.
“He’s not my friend,” I say.
“Um, are you okay?” a woman asks to my left. She has her thick brown hair braided down her back and wears mostly leather. Her face looks like it’s somewhere stuck between disgust and concern as she gawks at me.
I ignore her and focus on Gretta. “Where are we?”
Gretta isn’t paying me any attention, however. Her gaze is latched to Talis, and –great, just great, she’s fucking blushing.
“Gretta,” I growl and give her arm a shake.
She finally looks at me and opens her mouth to say something, but trumpets blow.
Some of the tension leaves me as everyone in the room turns to face a balcony above, but a few continue to shoot me wary glances.
I fold my arms, the taste in my mouth sour as Gretta abandons me with a quick, “Sorry, Talis told me I’m not really supposed to be here for this, so I need to go stand with him.” I glare at her back as she retreats to the shadows, then I turn that glare to Talis.
He looks amused.Amused.
I grip my elbows in fury, ten seconds away from stomping toward him and demanding an explanation, but then he lifts his arm and points a finger up to the balcony as several women gasp and murmur in excitement.
My eyes flick up to the balcony, and my jaw falls slack.
“May I present,” The Princess says –but she’s not the fucking Princess tonight. She’s dressed in a stunning teal gown, her hair flowing down past her shoulders. She wears no mask, her blue eyes electric beneath elaborate eye makeup. “The Kingdom of Estal’s only heir to the throne,” she continues, but her expression tenses when she finds me, her eyes slicing with scorn at my appearance.
I smirk, because, well,fuck her.
Then the curtains behind her part.
“Cristen Estal, your Heir of Fate,” she announces.
Time slows. My heart thunders. My stomach twists. Everything in me fills with disbelief, doubt,distrustas The Prince steps into the light beside his sister.
But he isn’t a Boss. He wears no mask. His infinite gaze is on full display, along with a chest covered in a silken fabric, golden chains strewn across it and linking to a long cape. And as I stare at him, at this man I thought I knew, at least a little bit, I realize how terribly, utterly foolish I’ve been. I mean, his Gods-damn Boss name wasThe Prince, for crying out loud.
I’ve never been more grateful to be covered in blood, as it hides the blatant embarrassment reddening my face, the exposed parts of my chest.
Cristen’s eyes sweep across the crowd, his lips set in a small, practiced smile. Then he finds me, considering I’m pretty damn hard to miss, and that smile vanishes.
Concern etches across his face, as fury pools through me. My arms drop to my sides as my fists curl.
Every eye is on me or him or glancing furiously between the two of us. Cristen steps up to the banister and grips it so tightly his knuckles turn white. Outrage darkens every crevice of his face, which only fuels my own.
He doesn’t get to be angry at me. If anyone has a right to throw a tantrum right now, it’s me.Me.
I lift my chin. If this is the beginning of that stupid contest to win the Heir of Fate’s hand in marriage –Cristen’s fucking hand in marriage– then I’ve clearly lost.
I spread my arms out to the side, locking my gaze with his as I give him a lethal smile and dip into a low curtsy, extending my middle fingers out on either side of me.
Several of the women cover their mouths. Most of them, however, openly gape. Talis laughs, then slaps a hand over his mouth.
My smile widens because I don’t care.I don’t care.I stand and toss my bloody hair back, swiping it with my middle fingers for emphasis, before I drop my hands and glare at him. “Bastard,” I snarl before I spit at the ground and turn my back on him.
Chapter Nine
