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Then, as he slid the ring onto my right middle finger, my eyes scanned the courtyard and I saw all the people watching. I remembered this for the spectacle that it was. The showman the Saints had made him. And I hated him all over again. I hated him. I hated us. I hated the life I was stuck living.
But I smiled. I took his hand. I let him kiss my cheek. I bowed and simpered and played it up for the applauding crowds because that was what Harlow Vanguard was expected to do.
“Happy birthday,” he whispered into my ear, his words full of love and admiration.
“Thank you,” I said, feeling more sincere.
He held up the hand with the ring on it and showed off to his worshippers.
“Thank you, Mr Callahan,” came a stern voice, preceding Sister Agnes. “If you are quite done, there are classes to be had.”
“Yes, Sister,” Apollo said, using every ounce of his charm. “Sorry, Sister.”
Her eyes dropped to the bling on my finger. She grew a disapproving grimace. “Because that is a gift and it is your birthday, Miss Vanguard, I will allow you to wear it for today. But today only.”
I nodded, wishing she hadn’t decided now to use up her once per term leniency. “Thank you, Sister.”
She looked around and we needn’t be told twice.
“I’ll see you later, birthday girl,” Apollo said, kissing my cheek again before rushing off to class with his Angels.
I noticed then, that Valen had been nowhere to be seen. Odd for him.
“This frivolous waste,” I heard Sister Agnes mutter as Florence and I headed to class.
Florence grabbed my hand and inspected the ring as we walked.
“This isn’t, like,it...is it?” she asked, sounding sceptical.
I shook my head. “No.”
“Good. ‘Cos, for a standard ring, it’s pretty and all, but it would make for a fucking terrible engagement ring.”
I snorted as I looked at her. “Awful,” I agreed.
At that moment someone turned into me and our shoulders collided. Well, I say shoulders... My shoulder hit his arm. I looked up to apologise, but the words died on my lips.
“Valen,” I said carefully.
“Princess,” he said disdainfully.
I knew he’d overhead us. “Don’t judge what you don’t know, Valk,” I warned him.
He put his arm out across my body so I couldn’t walk away, and it came dangerously close to touching me. My eyes flashed up and we glared at each other. My eyebrows rose quizzically, calmly waiting for an explanation.
“Most girls would kill for that bauble on your finger. Most girls wouldbegfor the honour.” His voice was venom.
“I appreciate the sentiment, if that’s what you mean.”
His eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I mean.”
“Well, I’m hardly going to drop to my knees in gratitude in front of Sister Agnes, am I?” I told him.
I kept a straight face.
Valen kept a straight face.
Florence snorted and tried covering with a cough.
