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“And I’m not engaged to him. Not yet, anyway.” I get up from my chair, smooth my hands down the bodice of my gown.
“Selina…”
“I’m not seeing anyone else. Now stop worrying. I have to go or I’ll be late.” I take a deep breath. “We don’t want to leave my future husband waiting.”
“Well,” Iason’s father says, stroking his short, trimmed beard. “You can’t claim she doesn’t look every bit a woman now, son.”
The look in those older eyes is sharp and hot, and I don’t like it. I’m not sure what it means.
“Yes.” Prince Iason rubs at his mouth. “You look great, princess.”
“Thank you.” I’m sitting there, regally and stiffly in my gold and lace, the earrings too heavy on my earlobes, my shoes too hard, my bodice too tight, pushing up my breasts, cinching my waist.
Curves. He wants curves, he’ll get them. He wants a woman, here I am.
“We were supposed to come sooner,” Iason’s father says, accepting a glass of wine from a maid who makes the rounds before disappearing once more though the door. “But it seems that a Faerie gate opened on our way here and we had to wait until the army went in and cleared the path for us to pass.”
“Were there Greater Fae?” I ask.
“Greater or Lesser, same evil. They infected two soldiers and a few of their mounts. Carried away some of our provisions.”
“The accursed Fae,” Prince Iason mutters, his jaw clenched.
“Not all of them are bad,” I whisper.
A silence spreads around me. I can feel it, as if I’m a pebble falling into a lake—the silver lake, hands pulling me under, dragging me away—and a ripple opens around me.
A ripple splitting the water, heading straight at me…
Iason laughs. It’s a short, curt sound that brings me back to the present. “Princess, you’re joking, surely. Is this one of the newer trends in the court of Kyrene? To joke about the Fae?”
“It’s a joke,” my mother says, also laughing, a little breathlessly. “Though I find this trend to be of bad taste. Let’s get back to your plans, Prince Iason. We were waiting impatiently for your return.”
“It is a pleasure to be back,” he says solemnly. I realize what is bothering me about him, something I hadn’t realized before. His eyes are flat, devoid of emotion. His face doesn’t express what he’s thinking. He’s like a closed book.
I like my books open and full of words. That’s how I am, unable to hide anything. That’s how I like the people around me. It unsettles me, this imbalance.
This is dangerous.
Maybe as dangerous as venturing into the haunted woods on my own. What am I doing with a man who can hide what he thinks and feels, while knowing every single thought and emotion going through me?
But if I talk more with him—alone, without our parents rushing this, then maybe I’ll discover what he really thinks and feels. I just need more time—
“What are your intentions with my daughter?” my mother asks.
“We have time,” Iason’s father leans back in his chair. “Don’t we? Let’s not pressure our children.”
“Pressure them?” My mother cocks her head to the side. “Let’s put our cards on the table, Prince Iason. You gave my daughter your token and a ring. She is waiting for you to move forward with your proposal. It’s not proper for a young princess to be kept waiting.”
Cards on the table. A crown. A gate. A merman.
A pair of bright blue eyes.
A wound.
“Mother, please,” I whisper, reaching for her hand. “It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right,” my mother hisses back. “If the young prince is not interested, then he should take his tokens back and let you seek another suitor.”
