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I spin on my heel and spruce up a wide smile. “Princey. I was looking for you.”
“Princey?”someone hisses behind me.
Cyrus dresses on the formal side for Council meeting days; his hair is slicked back and his shirt is buttoned to his neck, where a jabot frills. He fishes out a pocket watch and snaps it open and closed. “Looking for me for what?”
“We should discuss in private.”
“If this is a waste of my time, I’m busy today.”
“Why would you assume—” I grumble. Behind me, there’s tittering. This is embarrassing. “I dreamed something, all right?”
He stares at me a little longer. Heaves a sigh. “Fine. Make it quick.”
“Your Highness!” Mirabel shoulders past me to gripCyrus’s arm. A few of his guards rustle with their weapons. “I know the Thirteenth Dominion is far away, but you’re welcome to visit for as long as you like. My uncle hosts balls that are as splendid as this one will be.”
Cyrus wears a new face suddenly, quick as the flip of a coin, his long lashes fluttering. “Thank you for the invitation, Lady Mirabel.” Gods, his tone changes, too—sweet as honey. “I’ve already expressed my, ah, personal gratitude to your uncle for his contributions that are allowing such a lavish, evenoverlavish,Masked Menagerie.”
“Anything for you. Do you think you might travel anytime soon?”
“I don’t—”
“Not a big deal, if the answer is no. There are plenty of splendid things to do in the Sun Capital, too….”
Mirabel begins rambling about the beauty of the riverfront and parks, and I can see Cyrus’s smile cracking. His leg twitches like the reflex of prey, and I feel the hunger of the other girls encroaching at my back. Like decorative armor, the prince is polished and pretty, but unsuited for war, which is what this bride search is. Only this once, I’ll offer him a reprieve, becauseIneed to get on with my day, too.
I grab his other arm and start hauling him out of the room as Mirabel squawks. Cyrus stumbles before he finds his footing, rounding toward me with shock.
“You can’t be rude but I can, solet’s go,” I hiss to him, pulling hard enough on his cuff that the buttons snap apart. He finally falls in step with me.
An offended “Ugh!” from Mirabel echoes in our wake, and any further chatter is muffled by the sound of busyservants. Only laughter remains when I pull Cyrus into an empty vestibule.
His laughter.
It’s bright and sudden and stops as soon as our eyes meet.
“Was that necessary?” Cyrus’s smile curves into something sterner, just for me, and—gods—it makes me angry all over again.
“You’re such a two-face,” I snap before I remember I’m supposed to be establishing trust through our cease-fire, not dropping it like an expensive vase.
“Is the chronic liar telling me what to do?”
“You’re ahypocrite.”
“Our situations are different. The courtesy that I extend to my subjects—”
“Oh, for the love of stars,shut up.” I could strangle him by the ruffled nonsense around his neck.
Cyrus leans against the patterned wall, arms crossed. “Fine, Violet, tell me about your dream. But Iambusy.” He’s not taking me seriously at all. Ishouldwaste his time.
I exhale. Just get this over with. “I dreamed of you.”
He stills, a curious look in his eye.I’veonlybeen dreaming about you,I’d say, if I told him the full truth.
“I saw you dancing with this one girl,” I continue. “She arrives at the ball around eleven o’clock, wearing a butterfly mask made of jewels and dragonscale. Her dress is covered in butterflies, too—and fayflowers. She steals your breath away on sight. You kiss her and it looks like you justknow.And I thought you should be aware that—well, you’re finally going to find her.”
“My true love?” he murmurs, oddly quiet.
“Good thing, because I think I’m dreaming signs of Felicita’s prophecy.”
