They aren’t here.
They can’t be.
After my father's death, my stepmother and her daughters fell out of favor with the King. King Charming’s disdain for my stepmother’s naked ambition had swiftly removed them from the circles of power, their invitations to court revoked. With no one left to impress, she turned her frustrations and cruelty upon me with renewed vigor.
An unexpected brush from a passerby’s shoulder jolts me back to my harsh reality. The simple contact sears like a hot iron, slicing through the haze of detachment. My heart slams and batters my ribs, trapped within the confines of my corset as fear spikes through my veins.
My shudder is a visceral attempt to ward off the flood of memories clawing at the edges of my mind.Teeth, blood, pain, submission. Cold iron cuffed around my ankle. Lying on the ground, looking into the fathomless depths of a fireplace long burnt out.
The past must remain where it lies—there’s too much at stake tonight.
Despite my resolve, I can’t shake the crawling dread that tightens my stomach. Each step forward is like wading through treacle, fighting an invisible force that threatens to pull me into the nightmares I’ve struggled so long to escape.
Every part of me is on high alert. Not only am I avoiding shadows, I’m also avoiding Charming’s crazy scheme of a fake engagement.
Like I’d be engaged tohimin any universe.
Ha!
I skirt the edges of the ballroom, always moving, always watching. The women preen and pomp themselves up. They’ll all be vying to dance and charm the prince into a proposal.
Yet I’m the human girl he proposed to over any of them.
A strange slip of heat and smug satisfaction snakes through me. It's an unfamiliar warmth, a grounding force that pulls me slightly back into myself, towards the here and now.
I could be here playing the part of the doting fiancée right now. I could be on Charming’s arm, pissing everyone off with my general presence. Kaison would look at me the same way he did when we were dancing. As if he were intrigued and delighted, like I’m something truly unique and worthwhile of his attention.
The exact way I look at a pumpkin spice treat.
The memory of his words tethers me to the present moment despite my desire to flee. The way his voice turned rough when he promised no one would hurt me. . . my skin heats up as my belly flip flops.
With disgust. Definitely disgust.
The fact he grew up to be mildly amusing as well as drop-dead gorgeous means nothing. It means less than nothing.
That nothing is only made worse by the fact he’s tatted and wears heavy lethal jewelry.
And I have zero interest in finding more about that dangerous glint that passes over his face when his cocky playboy attitude drops for a moment.
I didn’t come back here to get tangled in his mess. I came for my family’s legacy. It rightfully belongs to me, not the Midnightfairies. The Ember is here somewhere, among all these gaudy displays of wealth and power. Ithasto be.
A hush falls over the room as the King makes another introduction like he did at the last ball. Everyone stills to listen, so I’m forced to slow my pace even as I back away from the dais where the royal family stands.
The Fairy Godmother dressed me again, and this time we used elaborate dark eye makeup under a lace eye mask to hide my features since the lace veil didn’t do the trick. Thankfully the narcissists in this room don’t give me a second glance despite my big reveal last time.
“—and I encourage as many of you young ladies to court my son. Take a turn about the dance floor to impress him with your most charming. . . assets.” There’s a leer in the King’s words even as his eyes scan some of the younger attendees.
Gross.
The Midnight Kingdom really needed to get thesmash the patriarchymemo.
Even as I think it, women pat their hair or adjust their breasts to push up further in their corsets.
Beneath my disgust for these outdated protocols, a dark coiling snake of doubt and anger begins to rise.
Is Kaison right? Was my father murdered? Is the killer here?
Is it the King?
