Not only from everyone here but from who she was. Otherwise, why the fae fucks would a human girl willingly walk into this ballroom knowing what she knows? My dark princess isn’t afraid of the Midnight court and meets my father’s gaze with her head held high.
My princess. . .
I must be what everyone says, spoiled, indulgent, rash, because suddenly I can’t stop the gears running in my heat that pull Cinder into my own plans.
It’s ill-advised and it’s wicked, yet my body knows with solid certainty it’s the only way I will get the support of the rebels.
The King’s last announcement is a signal. The orchestra and the festivities resume with a little more titter of interest than before. I lead Cinder off the floor before he can question her any further.
“Before I take another turn on the dance floor with a new partner,” I say loud enough for most to hear, as I lead her through the throng, “there is a piece of art of your father’s I think you will much appreciate seeing again.”
Now that she’s been ousted as a human, barely restrained disdain shows on the faces we pass by. Cinder is in danger.
I pull her down a hallway, past a set of guards. As soon as we are out of sight of them, Cinder rips her hand from mine. I reach for it again. Because I don’t think she’ll follow me, or because I simply want to cling to her hand, is uncertain even to me.
“I don’t like being touched,” she snaps, dodging my grasp.
“Noted,” I say, opening a door and ushering her inside.
Without light from a fire or candlelight, the drawing room is awash in blue hues of moonlight. It’s empty and even colder than the ballroom. Cinder is poised by one of the dozens of settees, her fingers clutched in her skirts.
That perfect cupid’s bow mouth purses. Cinder blinks twice, and I can tell she’s debating whether she should make a break for it and try to run past me, out of the room.
“What is the art piece you wanted me to see?”
There is an edge to her question I don’t quite understand. An almost fearful anticipation? Maybe she thinks I was lying, which I am. Or maybe it’s something else?
“I must return to the ball, but you’ll be safe here for now. I’ll be back as soon as I can. If anyone comes, well scratch that, no one will come. Just wait for me. We need to talk.”
I’m not done with her, but if I stay, they will come looking for me. I must perform my princely duties and dance with more eligible young ladies.
As I turn to go, Cinder makes a sound in her throat. I halt and look at her.
“I’m here for the Ember of Midnight.”
I don’t know what that is, but I damn well intend to find out.
“Thirty minutes,” I say, before slipping out of the room. Then to make sure she is extra secure, I pull a master key from my pocket and turn the lock.
First, I’ll entertain five—maybe three dances if I can manage it—and then I’ll come right back and find out how a very human Cinder got here, and what the Ember of Midnight is.
As the music swells and the dance floor blurs around me with a faceless partner, I let my mind drift to the seeds of a plan I’ve been nurturing in secret. It could change everything. It’s a gamble far greater than any I’ve made before, and I’ve lost millions at a poker table, along with the pair of pants off my ass.
But with Cinder’s unexpected return, I can’t help but think fate is trying to tell me something.
Do it. Push the envelope. Show the Mice you mean business.
And it all hinges on Cinder being part of my plan.
Excitement thrums through me like a live wire. Because I can finally get some traction or because it will result in spending more time with a woman who has me twitching with hunger in more places than just my fangs or pants?
Yes, is all my brain says back.
Something tells me persuading her won’t be easy. Cinder is different from everyone else, and not just because she’s human. The fact she was ballsy enough to sneak in here shows she’s not to be underestimated. So I’ll need to dangle something she desires more than anything else as bait, to rope her into my terrible, no-good scheme.
I have just the thing.
Chapter 4
