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I can’t tell if the gleam in his eye is from amusement at my shyness or his memory of last night.
Holy hell, last night. A spark of desire rushes through my middle, and warmth blooms over my chest.
Without breaking my gaze, he sets the teacup down on his nightstand, leans forward, and kisses me.
The kiss isn’t a morning-haven’t-brushed-your-teeth-yet kiss. It’s a full blown, sexy, third date kiss.
A knock on the door finally breaks us apart. Eclipsa peeks her head in the room. When she sees us in bed, her eyes narrow. “Time to go, Sylverfrost. I’ve been waiting hours for your ass.”
“I’ll be down in five,” he promises. She gives me one last look before leaving.
As soon as the door shuts, he prowls across the wood floor, oblivious to the chill, or the fact he’s completely nude, and dresses. He has to go to the Winter Court to speak with his father, he explains. Despite my newfound shyness, my body still burns with need for him. My throat is parched, my flesh feels feverish and tender, and my stomach aches with hunger.
I’m half sure I’m going to wake up and realize this has been another dream.
When he’s dressed in his Winter Court finery, he approaches me. For a moment, he just stares. I can’t read the emotions filtering through the mask he wears. Can’t break through to the person I connected with last night.
Then he leans down, a few wavy locks of his hair brushing my cheek, and whispers, “Valerian. My name is . . . Valerian Sylverfrost.”
52
Is it possible to become someone else in a single night? To transform so completely that you don’t even recognize yourself in the mirror? That every breath you take, every step, every laugh feels as if it comes from a stranger?
I meet this stranger’s eyes in the full-length antique mirror. Her face looks nothing like I remember: Mack’s golden highlight shimmers across my full cheekbones, my gold-flecked hazel eyes bright and clear. The amethyst dress cascades from my tall frame, showing off my healthier figure. My arms are badass, rippled with lean muscle. Even my hair looks shinier, pulled into a plaited concoction atop my head by Ruby.
She even surprised me last minute with miniature silver peonies she weaved into the strands of my pale blonde hair and the folds of my dress. The magic that makes them hold imparts a soft lily scent.
I wave my arms, just to be sure this is me and not some magical mirror that shows you a better version of yourself or something equally dumb. But there’s no denying it. The gaunt, sickly girl who entered the academy over nine months ago is gone.
Maybe I am a totally new person.
Ruby cat-calls from the corner of the room, giving her seal of approval the only way she knows how. “Kid, if you were a steak you’d be well done.”
I laugh. “Are you . . . hitting on me, Ruby?”
“Just saying, kid. My lips are like skittles.” She waggles her eyebrows. “Wanna taste the rainbow?”
“It’s true,” Mack confirms, coming up behind me. “You’re practically glowing.”
I meet her eyes in the mirror. The veiled accusation in her words matches her gathered eyebrows. She frowns, holding my stare a second longer than comfortable. I shift on my feet, digging the pointed heel of the amethyst pumps the pixie gave me into the wooden floor.
She exhales, her face softening into a smile, and touches my arm. Then she crosses the room and digs her Louboutin platform heels from the ever-growing clothes pile on the floor. They’re studded with crystals and spikes.
I watch her slip the platforms on, my shoulders sagging. When I came home this morning, Mack darted across the floor and wrapped me in a tight hug. She and Ruby were so worried about me that they were about to report me missing.
Worse, still, the headmistress had come by to talk about the ‘incident,’ as she termed it. Being out of the dorms past curfew was bad enough, but I had no idea how to explain where I was last evening.
Selfishly, I had totally forgotten about them—or anything—the entire night. This thing between the prince and me is so all-consuming that when he’s around, I lose track of everything else. Even those I care about deeply.
The thought makes my stomach clench with unease.
My guilt only multiplied as I fended off their questions with an excuse about the prince wanting to make sure I was safe. After multiple assurances that he didn’t kidnap me, I steered the topic away from the prince and to Evelyn. I didn’t spill her secret, though.
That’s not mine to share.
The others agreed that her recent moodiness was out of character. A quick search found her in her bed with the drapes closed. She said she was sick but was going to try to make it to the dance tonight.
If I didn’t know the truth, I would have believed her; she looked ill. Her skin was pale, clammy, and splotched with red marks, her hair lifeless and greasy, and bruise-blue shadows pooled beneath her dull eyes. And skinny—she had dropped like ten pounds in a matter of days.
