Because that’s what it is.A manipulation.
He doesn’t love me.
He can’t.
We had an agreement and sure, we may be fucking, and the chemistry is blow-the-roof-off hot, and he’s worked his ass off to make me comfortable and trust him even though he possesses a set of fangs as lethal as his pierced dick.
And okay, so he’s helped me find the Ember of Midnight and shared gory personal details I don’t think he’s shared with anyone else while allowing me to do the same. But it’s all a play.
He said it himself. He’s using me to overthrow his father. To inspire the Mice to creep into the castle and take over.
That’s all I am.
It feels as if my heart is on fire and I’m struggling to tamp down my feelings of anger, outrage, and. . . and. . . something else.
Something I don’t want to admit, or even fucking consider.
That he means it? Or that I feel it too?
No. I have to focus on why I came here. And then I can cut ties to Midnight and all of Charming’s bullshit.
I’m still equally suspicious of the King and Marisela. Despite what she said about not having killed my father, I can’t trust her. And I certainly can’t trust what she said about my dad.
Sheis the abuser.
I hate the way my stomach roils whenever I think about what she said.
“All alone this evening?” Anastasia asks. Drusilla is behind her. A head shorter than her sister, her dark plaited back hair is a perfect contrast to her blue dress. She stares at me with those colorless snake eyes with a hunger that makes my skin itch and gives me a need to get as far away as possible.
“The prince isn’t feeling well,” I say for the twentieth time in half an hour.
“I think I have an idea of what’s making him sick,” Anastasia smirks knowingly.
“Yes, well he thought it’d be rude to tell you to lay off that skunky perfume, so he chose the classier route of staying safe behind closed doors from your stench and bad attitude.” The words flow easily off my tongue as I search the room for the Queen.
Maybe she knows more about my father. She's a resource I haven’t used before. And without Kai protecting her from every interaction threatening her little world, maybe I can get something out of her.
“You little bitch,” Anastasia hisses.
Drusilla’s eyes dart back and forth between us with an anticipatory grin on her face. As if she’s excited by the prospect of blood being spilled in front of her.
“Now now, is that any way to talk to your future Queen?” I ask, turning to look my older stepsister in the eye.
Anastasia is moments away from lunging at me and either tearing out my hair or my throat. I almost want her to do it. Let everyone witness what an uncontrolled animal she is.
Just like vamps detest the sight of red, they can’t stand uncouth displays that are considered uncivilized. My presence alone has nearly pushed them past their limits.
“Ah Cinder,” the half-elf ambassador calls out, coming to my side. “I wanted to ask you about your wedding attire. I know there is much pressure for you to adorn the black dress of a Midnight fairy, but I believe a white gown heralds the Common World values and would help cement this blending of cultures.”
I can never remember his name, but I always wonder if it’s a coincidence he smells like plums when his skin is a light hue of lavender up to his pointed ears. Either way, I let him lead me off to talk about the vapid details that somehow further hispolitical agenda of pulling power and influence in not one, but two realms.
An hourlater and I have to admit that as tough as I thought these gigs were before, without Kaison it’s fucking excruciating. He takes so much of the social pressure off me while making me feel like I’m not alone.
When I spot the Queen, I catch her slipping from the ballroom. It’s not unusual. She doesn’t seem to have the stamina for these things either and often retires before the evening concludes. I decide to follow her, leaving the murmurs and music of the ballroom behind to head down a corridor. I don’t see her, but I head toward where I know her chambers are.
When I turn the corner, I come face to face with Drusilla. Despite being a half-head shorter than me, the grin on her face would make the devil pee himself.
“I’ve missed you, sissy,” she purrs like the predator she is.
