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He doesn’t so much as look down at the flickering golden blaze that licks against his suit jacket, his trousers, everywhere our clothing touches. He simply trusts they aren’t burning him.
“I could never be afraid of your fire,” he says, each word pointed. Heavy. Carrying a deeper meaning hidden between the lines. But his next words leave no room for interpretation. “I missed you.”
My heart thuds against my ribs, a tempo that threatens to pull me out of synch with our waltz. Yet it’s a far more tempting beat, one I don’t think I want to ignore for a second longer. “I missed you too.”
His hand slides lower down my back, the pads of his fingers tightening against my gown as if he’s fighting not to pull me flush against him. “What happened between you and Albert just now?”
I swallow hard. “I told him I can’t marry him.”
He stumbles, catching himself before anyone but I could notice. “Why?”
The melody begins to slow, initiating the end of our dance. In a matter of seconds, it will be time for us to part, and I still have one more truth to tell.
“Because I don’t love him,” I rush to say. “And I…I know now that I deserve love. I don’t want to live without it. Nor do I want to live without—”
Say it, I urge myself.Tell him you want him to stay.
But my words won’t come. A darker part of me taunts that I should keep quiet. The last time I confessed feelings for someone, I became an accomplice in starting a war. Worse, I…I became consumed by violence. Revenge.
The song rings out with its final note, and the couples around us separate to dip into curtsies and bows. My pulse quickens with urgency. It’s now or never.
We step apart like all the other couples, but Dante won’t release my hand. “I accept you, Amelie, no matter what it is you want to say. So please say it.”
I accept you. It’s a simple phrase, but it means so much to me, more so as I stand before him in my bold gown. If he accepts me, then he acceptsallof me. My human and fae sides. My fury and flame.
I can do this. I can say what lingers just behind my lips—
Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I nearly jump clear out of my skin. I expect it to be an inquiring dance partner, but when I whirl to the side, ready to bite off their head if they even try to ask me to dance, I find someone unexpected—not to mention unwelcome.
Mrs. Vance meets my gaze with narrowed eyes. She wears a forest green ballgown with a matching velvet domino mask. “You and I should talk, Miss Fairfield. The two of us have unfinished business to discuss.”
Dante takes a forbidding step toward the woman, his posture rigid. I place a hand on his chest, halting him in place. “No, Dante,” I whisper. “I’ll speak to her.”
I certainly don’t want to talk to the woman, but if today is a day for truth telling, then perhaps Mrs. Vance deserves an honest explanation too. Not for her husband’s actions, but for my own. I won’t apologize, but I can explain my perspective when I took her husband into a dressing room.
Ignoring my companion completely, Mrs. Vance says, “Meet me on the south terrace next to the gardens.” Without waiting for my reply, she turns on her heel and disappears into the crowd.
Dante scowls after the woman. “You’re certain you want to be alone with her?”
“I’ll be fine. But first, there’s something I need to tell—”
“Albert,” Dante mutters, spine going straight as his eyes sweep the room. “Damn it, where did he go?”
My heart sinks. Of course the prince has Dante’s full attention. It probably won’t even matter what I say to him. His loyalty lies not with me.
I force a smile. “Go ahead and find him. I’ll be all right. Thank you for the dance.”
I don’t wait to hear his reply or see how quickly he darts after his charge. Instead, I head across the ballroom toward the south terrace, dread weighing down my feet while unspoken confessions poison my tongue.
* * *
Maureen Vance standswith her back facing me at the far end of the terrace, where the paved marble stones give way to tall garden shrubs cloaked in shadows and moonlight. The walking paths beyond the shrubs appear empty, as most guests are indoors enjoying the dances and company of others.
At the sound of my footsteps, Mrs. Vance turns to face me. She looks me up and down with clear distaste. “Are you going to make me look at those ridiculous flames?”
I give her an overly pleasant grin. “Yes.”
She huffs a mirthless laugh. “Then let us make this short. Miss Fairfield, I want you to end your engagement to Prince Albert.”
