Page 28 of The Stolen Crown

She was maddening. And every step she took leveled me with a sweet breath of the foaming sugars glamour fae used to cleanse their hair.

“What does it matter?” One side of my mouth curled in a forced snarl, tracking her pace as far as I could until my body was forced to spin again to keep up. “You are of the royal house; naturally your absence would be noticed.”

All at once, Mira stopped. The true slyness of the princess bled through her stormy golden eyes. “I think you’ve had an unpleasant interaction with my rather overwhelming father.” She barked a mocking laugh, clapping her hands together until her fingers laced. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

My teeth clenched, and my eyes narrowed. “Return to the revel, and I swear I will leave and be of no bother to you any longer.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t stand the thought of denying you an evening of merriment.” Mira clasped her hands behind her back, the parchment still crumpled tightly in one palm. “Now, you mustn’t take whatever Daj threatened too seriously. He has a great many reasons to be assertive when it comes to my well-being. If you’d like to understand him better, I’d be happy to tell you what makes my father…tick.”

“It’s no matter to me. Let’s return.”

The wicked, ruthless, nightmare of a woman did not comply.

No. Mira sighed with a touch of theatrics and leaned her back against the rail of the balcony, fanning her slender face with the crumpled parchment. “I’m afraid I was rather busy when you interjected yourself into my solitude. I can’t be bothered to return at the moment, Hearttalker. I’m frightfully sorry, but do return on your own. I’m sure my father will understand.”

I was going to throttle her.

My gaze kicked down to the slanted words scrawled on the missive. Before I could think better of it, I snatched the parchment from her fingers. “What has you so preoccupied?”

“Give that back, you ass!”

Ah, now this was the vicious little princess I recalled. Mira tried to reach around my shoulders to reclaim her letter. I was skilled enough at avoiding unwanted touch and managed to maneuver to the opposite side of the balcony, the parchment held high over my head.

Mira gathered her skirt in her hands and hurried her step until she stood chest to chest with me, jumping and fumbling to reach the missive I kept out of reach. “Gods, you’re…you’re—”

“What am I?” I said in a sort of snarl.

She let out a shriek of frustration, dropped her skirt from her grip, and leapt with a bit more might to reach the parchment.

For such an unassuming woman, she was rather feral. More than once, her palms brushed over my forearms, the side of my neck. At one point, even her fingertips tugged on the ends of my hair near the back of my neck.

I stiffened, anticipating the repulsive heave of sick that always tore through my gut when skin touched skin. It never came, but perhaps the anticipation of the bile in my throat, the stormy memories of hands everywhere, caused me to quickly put a greater distance between me and the princess.

I tossed the missive onto the stone floor between us.

Mira arched one brow when I took several steps back. If she wanted to ask about my abrupt retreat, she didn’t. Instead, she let out a furious huff and, in a frenzy, gathered her skirt in her grip.

The princess stormed to where I’d dropped the parchment, some of her smooth auburn waves falling in wisps around her brow, adding a touch of wildness to her features.

I buried my repugnance beneath a sneer. “Must be a rather important note for you to turn into a damn skarpr.”

Mira puffed a lock of hair out of her eyes and waved the parchment in front of my face. “I don’t know what a skarpr is, nor—”

“A ruthless creature who lives in sea caves. Some say it is so frightening to behold that one glance will cause a soul to drown themselves, all to be free of the memory.”

For a breath, two, Mira blinked as though stunned by my interruption.

Then more of her lovely malice flashed in her gaze. The princess struck my shoulders back and forth with the parchment, ranting and raving about my impertinence, insisting she was not horrid to behold. She groused over my arrogance, my aggravating features—even the tone of my voice apparently brought out her ire—and my nonexistent manners.

I held up my arms in defense, unable to stop the tug of a grin at the corners of my mouth. There was something to be said about riling up the heat and venom from Mira’s mouth.

I would never allow nearness to this woman to become commonplace, but in this instant, I certainly enjoyed rousing the flames in those eyes.

At long last, Mira stepped back, a heated flush shading her cheeks.

“Feel better, Vicious?”

“Stop calling me that.” She clenched her fists at her sides. “Why don’t you go and be bothersome elsewhere, Hearttalker?”