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Riot looks past me to Bash, who’s captured Andra’s attention again. She leans into the hand on her cheek, enamored by the prince and every dissimulating word he utters. The longer I watch them, the more uncomfortable I feel.
“He won’t like it.”
“Does it matter? I’m not here to be queen. As soon as I find Ezra free, we’re gone.” I shudder once. I can’t explain the chill that dances down my spine. It’s not a warning from my magic, those are warm tingles. This sensation is different like the icy fingers of death himself taunting me. Reminding me that he’s inching closer to taking my friend’s life.
Riot’s brows pull together into a tight line. He looks out beyond the glass to the cloudy scene of white where snow falls in soft tufts that areanxious to join the blanket covering the grounds. “Let’s get you into something warmer first.”
“We didn’t buy a coat this morning.” Or boots suitable for snow.
I only have the ones Bash gave me. Their leather exterior will be helpful but not immune to the wet kiss of frostbite. If we go out there my toes will ache for hours, but I don’t know when I’ll get to see the grounds again. We aren’t supposed to go outside and the chance to learn the lay of the land with a guide is too good to pass up. Besides, once the sun rises to mark a new day, the pain will be gone.
“I took the liberty of adding a few things to your wardrobe while you were at brunch.”
“There you go, acting like you care again.”
Riot holds the atrium’s door for me and, for a split second, I think he might’ve smiled. “Don’t get used to it, princess. This was more about me than you.”
“Oh?” I laugh. “Do you have a kink for dressing women?”
“Only your mind would go there.” Riot shakes his head and this time I catch his smirk before that steeled mask of his is in place again. The quick quip of his lips makes my stomach flip and I’m reminded that Ezra’s love curse still has its teeth in me. Hopefully in another day, two tops, it should set me free.
Thank the stars.
We take the stairs side by side, neither one of us speaking, but I’m keenly aware of how close Riot is. How his arm brushes against mine when we walk, and how he can climb four steps without taking a breath.
A strange sense of déjà vu washes over me and my mind races as I try to recall the encounters I’ve had with Riot. The feeling of familiarity is maddeningly elusive, like a puzzle piece on the tip of my tongue; the threads of memory just out of reach, dancing on the fringes of my consciousness.
“Sir,” a soldier says when we reach the top step. He stands at attention, his fingertips touching his eyebrows, until Riot relieves him.
“At ease, soldier.”
“There’s been a…” The kid’s gaze flicks to me. He’s young, barely eighteen, and so thin his gray uniform pants hardly stay on his hips. He looks less than a meal away from death, but there are worse jobs to have when you’re hungry. As much as I hate the Crown and what it represents, they feed their men which is more than I can say for the other jobs in Arcane. “You’re needed in the war room.”
“I’ll be there in two minutes.” Riot places his hand on my lower back and guides me to my door. The urgency in the soldier's voice lingers in the air and I can't help but feel a knot of unease tighten in my stomach.
“This could be a while,” Riot says with a frown.
“It’s fine. I’ve got things to do.” I reach for the doorknob and frown when it twists. “Do you know when that locksmith is coming?”
“No, but I’ll look into it.” He glances behind him, his brows knitting together with concern. "Stay in your room. I'll be back as soon as I can."
I nod, shut myself in my room, and set my webs free. My magic slithers beneath the door and into the hallway, anxiously searching for threats. It finds the kid who stole Riot from me at the corner with four men surrounding a large oval table down the hall in the war room. Without letting my powers run at full strength, all I see are flickering bursts of red as each heart pulses.
But with Riot my webs coil, casting a shell of threads around him. The longer he stands outside my door, the clearer my picture becomes, to the point where I can almost see the huff of amusement that lifts his lips as he turns toleave.
Riot and I don’t explore the grounds. When it becomes clear he isn’t coming back, I push my wardrobe in front of the door and nap until Sasha wakes me to dress for the evening. She listens this time, only knocking twice and then waiting for me to clear a path for her to come in.
Her eyes flash with curiosity when I block the door again, but she refrains from prying, a silent understanding passing between us. In return, I let her pick my gown for the night and style my hair, even though I can do both myself, but I dress on my own in the bathroom.
When my hair is fashioned in a braid and my dress, a dusty sage-colored gown with a plunging v-neck and an A-line waist, is tied tight, my replacement guard escorts me to the great hall. He’s a stuffy man with a thick white mustache who barely glances at me. He walks with stiff steps, as if he’s afraid to get too close, and then retreats into the castle the moment we’re at the dining hall’s entrance.
I’m relieved he’s gone. I don’t trust that man to tie my shoe, let alone have my back. Riot may be a nuisance, but I know where his loyalty lies—with Bash—which means that even though it goes against everything he’s been trained to do, he will keep me safe. Well, as safe as a Cerise can be within the castle.
Or as safe as I can be with Graves lingering about.
The mere sight of him in the ballroom sends shivers down my spine. Every instinct screams at me to run and even my magic, usually vengeful and defiant, recoils at the thought of being in the same room this evening.But fear is a weakness, and weaknesses are vulnerabilities that can be exploited.
“Khiara!” Jinx squeals when she sees me. Her arm links with mine and the innocence in her naivety warms my soul, a stark contrast to the cold reality that we are technically rivals vying for the crown. “We’re sitting next to each other.”
