The carriage stops so abruptly, I slam back against the padded wall. Eyes open and wide, I press my palms to my flaming cheeks. All at once, the reasonable and sensible parts of my brain are shaken loose. My good sense tumbles through my limbs, and I close up like a clam.
Expansion and autonomy…evolution and independence… Expansion and autonomy…evolution and independence, I remind myself. Although I really should have taken the hint a few minutes ago.
Kane ties Lord Ashwood’s eye patch around his head and glances out the window, unaffected, as if our interaction never happened.
We can’t get to the palace and out of this carriage soon enough. My cheeks won’t stop burning, now out of embarrassment instead of desire.
Commotion filters in through the broken glass, a crash of shouts and angry voices.
We’re in front of the palace. Its towering stone walls and spires capped with gleaming golden finials reach for the clouds. The front courtyard is paved with cobblestones worn smooth by years of footsteps and sealed off by wrought gates too tall and spiked to climb. Beyond the fence teems a mob of villagers, some with literal pitchforks in hand.
“How dare you feast while we starve!” shouts someone from the crowd.
I peek out through the curtains and brace myself. The townspeople cry out in agreement, their clothes tattered and dirty. Children with dirt-smudged cheeks cling to their parents, their eyes wide and searching with a mixture of curiosity and fear.
My palms are sweaty, and I have to press my hands into my knees to keep them from shaking. The last time I was here, these people branded me a witch and tried to kill me. But today, their gazes meet mine with a different kind of scrutiny. I’m no longer an outsider threatening them with evil magicks. I bring a different kind of pain—entitlement and wealth. The 1 percent who are clean and well-fed and wanting for nothing while having the means to help but not the willingness.
The jewels and velvets and silks will help me get into the palace, but it’s not where I belong. I don’t belong out here with them either. I’m from another realm entirely, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to help. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed out of college, I wanted to use my degree to benefit others, work for a nonprofit, make areal difference in the world. Then real life intervened and burst my bubble.
Kane draws the curtains together, leaving only a slender beam of light that stains the air between us. I shift, suddenly uncomfortable and all too aware of the fact that we’re in this dark and shadowed space alone together.
“Fawn—”
I interrupt him before he can continue, the words tumbling out in a rush. “That was a mistake. What happened before. Between us.”
“You don’t believe that.” His voice is a low hum that threatens to pull me back in.
“Kane, you have no idea what I believe or what I want. Or rather,don’twant,” I bite out, choosing anger instead of desire. “The only thing you can give me is a way into the palace.”
He doesn’t have a chance to retort, our exchange cut short by Briggs’s commanding shout from his seat outside on the elevated perch: “Let us through!”
There’s a surge of voices and a thundering of fists on the outside of the carriage. I wrap my arms around my middle as it buoys back and forth, creaking and swaying under the pressure of the crowd.
“What do they want?” I shout to Kane.
“To survive.”
Before I can ask more questions, the carriage lurches to one side. I grab onto the seat, my fingers digging into the leather. The carriage tips farther, and I close my eyes, feeling myself lose my grip and the ground slip away from beneath the wheels. Panic squeezes my stomach, and the sharp sting of bile claws up my throat.
“Hold on!” Kane wraps his strong arm around me. He pulls me close and braces himself against the shifting weight. The carriage shudders, the crowd growing louder, more frenzied. Fighting against the lurching carriage and the relentless push of the mob, Kane maneuvers us away from the shattered window and back toward the center of the seat.
The carriage finally breaks through the crowd. It slams back down onto four wheels and rolls unsteadily toward the palace. The noise fades, replaced by hooves on cobblestone as we pass through the wrought iron gates.
“The ambassador of Cups and his wife. The esteemed Lord and Lady Ashwood,” Briggs shouts over the diminishing roar of the townspeople.
“Are you ready, Lady Ashwood?” Kane asks, adjusting his eye patch.
A storm of doubt thunders between my ears along with the frenetic beat of my heart.
“Of course,” I say, summoning my polished and confident brand-management persona who won over the senior VP of Posh Pulse while shoving from my mind the fact that when it mattered, I completely caved. This time will be different. This time, my performance will be flawless. After all, I’ve come this far. I’ve survived being stabbed and an attempted carriage jacking. If I have any hope of getting back home, I have to get inside the palace walls, be the perfect Lady Ashwood, and find the Empress tarot card.
As I mentally prepare myself, my gaze betrays me and wanders over Kane—along the bow of his lips, down his chiseled jaw, thick shoulders, and muscular arms.My body remembers his touch and aches to be molded beneath his strong hands. I wet my lips and swallow the last taste of him.
Shit, I groan inwardly. Hannah, there’s no way you’re getting out of this in one piece.
Twelve
The warm glow of candlelight envelops us as Kane and I step through the palace’s towering wooden doors, my stomach churning like I just downed a can of whipped cream. My satin slippers whisper against the polished marble inlaid with a golden pentagram as wide as the grand entryway.
