AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Not fall for him.
Not open my heart only to lose it.
Now I must marry a man I do not love—a concept that once gave me comfort when Evie first proposed it but now feels like a vise crushing me from all sides.
Dread and rage battle within me, boiling into a roar that surges from my throat. With it comes a spark of flame lighting each palm.
I lift my hands and stare at the red fire, witnessing my frustration made tangible. Fueled by my growing anger, I march over to the dusty rose gown and punch the air before it, sending fistful after fistful of my fire to douse the dress. It takes less than a minute before I’m winded, but it feels good to have channeled my rage, to have utilized my fire instead of suppressing it like I always do.
Catching my breath, I step back from the gown. Surprise washes over me. Even after all the fire I threw at the dress, only the dragon silk lace burns. It seems to have drawn the fire like a magnet, once again leaving the other materials unscathed. Like before, the color of the flames has cooled to a pale gold. They flicker over every inch of the lace, from the hem to the layered flounces, bodice, and decorative rosettes. My rage calms, allowing me to extinguish the fire in my hands, leaving only awe in its wake.
The dress, with its warm and elegant flame, is more beautiful than I ever could have imagined.
A knock sounds at my door, startling me from my reprieve. I rush over to the gown and smother the flames with a quick brush of my hands over the lace. Then, collecting my composure, I make my way to my front entrance. Only when my fingers brush the handle do I recall I’m dressed in only a silk bathrobe. Getting dressed seemed like too much effort this morning since I wasn’t planning on leaving the house. I consider running to fetch a shawl, but it’s likely just the post.
Arriving with more news of scandal, I’m sure.
With a deep breath, I open the door with as much poise as I can muster in a bathrobe.
I pull my head back as I find my sister and Foxglove on the other side of the threshold.
Evie rushes to speak before I can. “Foxglove says you haven’t been to the studio in two days.”
“And we saw the papers,” Foxglove adds with a grimace as he pushes the bridge of his spectacles.
I look from my sister to my friend, taking in their worried expressions, their eyes welling with sympathy. Part of me wants to dismiss their concern, to say I’m fine, and pretend my heart isn’t aching. But…but maybe that’s not what I need right now. Releasing my hold on my pride, I let a sad smile curl my lips and open the door wider for them.
“The good news is,” Evie says as she lifts her hands to reveal two glass bottles, “we brought a lot of wine.”
* * *
An hour later,I’m sprawled on my couch, crushing half-finished dresses and probably staining them with a hefty dose of Agave Ignitus wine too. In my wine-addled state, I can’t find it in me to care. Not after baring my wounds to Foxglove and Evie. Or as much of them as I’m willing to share.
I told them about Dante, confessed that he’s the one I’ve been seen with all this time, and that I’ve neither met nor corresponded with the real prince. I even told them about our kiss, although I didn’t go into much detail regarding what it did to my heart. From the pointed glance they exchanged, I suspect they know. Especially after my chin began to wobble beneath the weight of my suppressed sob when I described our bitter parting.
“So, they sent a spy into our midst during an act of peace,” Evie says, narrowing her blue eyes from the other side of the couch. Her legs are thrown over mine, and her long auburn hair spills halfway from its updo.
Meanwhile, Foxglove lays on his side across my tea table, his head propped up by his fist. He takes a long swig of wine from the bottle, then passes it to Evie. With a dreamy sigh, he says, “I love it when a guy gets violent on his lover’s behalf. Did you swoon, Amelie? Tell me you swooned.”
I cradle the second bottle of wine to my chest—one I’ve kept to myself and have every intention of finishing off alone. “I didn’t swoon,” I say, my words too thick on my heavy tongue. “I was mad at him.”
Evie takes a drink, then hands the bottle back to Foxglove. She arches her brow. “Mad because you thought he dallied with that actress.”
I lift my head from the dress I’ve been using as a pillow and cut her a glare. “I was only mad because he canceled our date and brought shame to our charade. He and Albert are free to dally with whomever they like, so long as it isn’t done in the public eye.” I say the last part too quickly, revealing the lie infused with my words.
Evie and Foxglove exchange another look, one that has them both smirking.
I sit up straighter and throw a ball of discarded silk at each of them. “I don’t know what has the two of you so amused. It doesn’t matter how I felt or what happened. I have to marry Prince Albert in three days, and he didn’t even serve his purpose. Dante ruined my life.”
Evie’s expression turns more serious. “Did he though?”
“How can you ask that?”
She purses her lips before speaking. “It just…it seems, from the way you described spending time with the spy that you…dare I say enjoyed his company?”
“Or his tongue in your mouth,” Foxglove mutters with a sly grin.
I scoff at them both but can’t summon an argument. They’d just see through it anyway. So I seek a different truth. “Dante ruined my career.”
