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I hated the jealousy—it made me feel monstrous and out of control. She deserved better. I deserved it too. Our courtship wasn’t yet official; regardless, I didn’t believe in having rights to dictate to another. It was hideously outdated. I’d much rather she choose me.
“I closed my eyes and imagined I was dancing with you,” Audrey Rose said. Her green gaze was mesmerizing as she pulled me closer, tipping her face up. “It made it easier… acting. I don’t think I’m very good at it. The stage isn’t any place for me. But I wanted to try. I thought I could help those women.”
Missing pieces clicked into place. She wasn’t falling for the ringmaster; she was making it look that way. Hope rose and then crashed against the shore of my insecurity. I shoved it aside. She was here, edging closer, staring at my mouth like it was a work of art she’d love to study. I’d be a fool to ruin everything by allowing doubt to shove itself in.
“Perhaps you should stop acting and take advantage of me now.”
She arched a brow, feigning surprise, but the pleasant flush of her skin gave her true feelings away. “Fiend.”
I held my hand out, a genuine smile twitching across my lips. “My dearest, Wadsworth. I was talking about dancing with me. What were you thinking about?”
“Kissing you.”
I opened my mouth, a quip at the ready, then faltered. All hints of teasing vanished. I hadn’t expected such raw honesty. That was a trick I played. Her smile was slow and immensely self-satisfied as I blinked dumbly at her. She’d wanted to surprise me and knew she’d accomplished her goal. I couldn’t deny falling deeper under her spell.
She touched my lips with her fingertips, gaze darkening. “Will you?”
My heartbeat quickened. I wanted nothing more than to capture her mouth with mine, to kiss away the doubt that lingered in the depths of my heart, to give her the affection she deserved. As I leaned in to give her everything she asked for, I smelled the barest hint of spirits on her breath. At the last moment, I changed my mind. When I kissed Audrey Rose, I wanted to be sure she truly wished for me to.
Purposely misunderstanding her, I pulled her to me, and we danced—much too closely and yet not nearly close enough—while crystal flakes of snow fell. We waltzed down the promenade and back until her eyes drooped, and I lifted her into my arms and carried her into her cabin. I tucked her under her sheets and pressed my lips to her forehead. Somehow our evening dancing beneath the stars and snow was more meaningful than sharing her bed.
“Goodnight, Audrey Rose.”
She likely wouldn’t remember it in the morning, but I hoped she’d think it was a wonderful dream. A memory I might one day paint so I could look back on it long into the future and be filled with the same sense of warmth and peace.
Instead of being distracted by jealousy and bargains that ultimately didn’t matter, I wish I’d been paying better attention to the nightmare that was about to unfold.
In four short days, she’d be in my arms, bleeding out. And I’d finally become the dark prince my father knew me to be, as I unleashed myself upon them all.
Vintage stage and fog.
One
DINING SALOON
RMS ETRURIA
8 JANUARY 1889
Blood spilled over my hands in warm, rhythmic gushes. For one drawn-out moment, I was frozen, then my world narrowed to an equation. Sterile. Familiar. Calm. The exact opposite of my surroundings. Chaos reigned on stage, and I was semi-aware of a struggle raging behind us.
Jian, the mighty Knight of Swords, had joined Mephisto in wrestling Andreas to the ground, but the murdering fortune-teller wasn’t giving up easily. I watched as each of the Moonlight Carnival performers fought him, taking out both their rage and hurt on the man who’d sacrificed their troupe in order to exact his revenge.
A dark, seething anger boiled up. I’d never been particularly violent, choosing to use my talents for deducing the impossible in order to end violence, but a part of me wanted to jump into the brawl and unleash a feral attack on the man who’d hurled a knife into Audrey Rose. I also wanted to avenge each of the innocent women whose lives he stole—all in the same of his own fiancée’s death.
I stared at the knife in Audrey Rose’s leg, imagining how it’d feel to slash his throat open with it. I’d never wished for anyone’s blood to be on my hands before, but, as I clutched the girl I loved, her lifeblood emptying onto me and the floor, I prayed for the chance to return the favor on him tenfold. I would gut him while he still breathed and feed him his innards. Jack the Ripper would tremble at my ruthlessness, the brutality in which I carved him open and laid him bare.
Andreas managed to land a punch in Mephisto’s gut before Jian tackled him. He was so close I could almost seize him… but then Audrey Rose let out a quiet, sobbing breath.
I turned back to her. I needed to focus.
I set my jaw and surveyed the wound. There was too much blood, an indication her femoral artery had been hit. I couldn’t risk removing the blade until I stopped the blood flow. The knife was likely the only thing preventing her from bleeding to death.
At that, a sudden, rapid flutter assaulted my chest. Panic.
My mind shut itself down into a sterile, unfeeling weapon. If I thought about the girl lying still beneath me, her eyes slowly losing focus, I’d be consumed by fear. If I allowed terror into my heart, I might as well sign her death warrant. Logically, I knew this; emotionally, I was failing.
“Wadsworth,” I said, forcing my tone into a calmness I didn’t feel, “stay here. Stay here with me.”
