The panic returns and I rack my brain for a response.
‘A few of us headed down to the maze.’
This is true.
‘But I’d had a little too much champagne.’
Also true.
‘So I decided to return to my chambers.’
Lie. Lie.Lie.
I don’t know why I feel so desperately guilty. Kissing Fox was an accident. Besides, Hal is as good as betrothed. It might still be a secret for now, but when it is announced, when he is forced to marry Princess Mirade of Thaven, what then? He will be lost to me forever. Not that he was ever mine to begin with.
The music becomes louder and I welcome it. It fills me up until there’s no room for anything else. Stares bounce off me, whispers dissolve before they reach my ears. I’m spun from Hal, to Flint, to Zeph, and back to Hal again, until suddenly I find myself in the arms of someone new, someone tall and strong and impossibly,irritatinglybeautiful.
The Earth Cleaver grins down at me. ‘Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?’
I freeze mid-step as it all comes flooding back – the memory of his hands, his mouth, of running my fingers through his hair. Heat spills into my cheeks. ‘Let me go.’
‘Really?’ His voice is amused. ‘Because I will, you know. If you ask it of me. But I warn you, it’ll make quite the scene.What did he say to her?someone might ask.What did she say to him?another may wonder. What could have possibly happened between them to make the Storm Weaver flee the dance floor in front of the entire palace?’
I open my mouth and then close it again, furious. He’s right, of course. Meaning that there is no escape. Meaning that I will have to dance with the reason my heart feels as though it’s about to burst out of my eardrums and make a break for it without me.
‘Fine,’ I say. ‘But no talking.’
‘As you wish. Although I must say, you look particularly lovely this evening.’
‘I mean it.’
‘As do I,’ he says, dropping his gaze to my lips. ‘Positively bewitching.’
I glare at him. Fox is wearing a loose-fitting forest-green shirt, his golden chain tucked beneath the collar. His hand iswarm in mine, his grip firm. I can feel the calluses beneath my palm, from years of doing … what? Slaving? Trekking through jungles? His other hand rests on the small of my back, pressing me gently into his chest.
‘So, Storm Weaver. What were you speaking to my brother about? Only you seemed a little … tense.’
I bristle. ‘None of your business.’
‘Just think, depending on the outcome of the third trial, the three of us might soon be spending an awful lot of time together.’
I grimace, wondering whether Marina winning the third trial wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all. Then I remember what Elaith was saying moments before Hal asked me to dance.
‘Do you even want to be king?’ I ask bluntly.
Fox seems to consider this. He twirls me twice, then says, ‘I like winning.’
I don’t know how to respond to that.
‘And you, Storm Weaver? Do you want to be queen?’
The question pins me to the spot. I’ve spent so long convinced I was going to lose, that I never really considered what it would be like if I didn’t. Anyway, what is the point in speculating? Marina is formidable, ambitious, almost regal in her arrogance, and her ability to simmer gives her an advantage. And even if I could beat her, those men I overheard in the maze were right – the people would not accept me as ruler. I’m a Rain Singer. An outcast. And I summoned a storm that almost drowned an empire.
But what if I were to strip that all away?
Do you want to be queen?
I’m not much interested in glory, or status. But I’d be lyingif I said I wasn’t interested in power. Because I know what it is to feel powerful, and I know what it is to feel powerless, and I know which I’d choose, every time.
