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“Mr. Wellington.” Alaric’s voice is dark and rich. “You look in need of feeding. I will keep your guest occupied until you get back.”
There is a chance Alaric approached us, not because he recognized me but mistook Cassius’s pallor caused by his injury for hunger.
Cassius hesitates for only a fraction of a moment. Yet there is only one thing he can do in this situation. He cannot refuse without giving our ruse away.
He releases me and dips his head in a bow—our dance ended before it could begin. “Thank you, your highness. I will not be long.”
I am frozen in place, not daring to face the man at my side as Cassius walks away. Either unaware or unconcerned by my unease, Alaric takes my hand and guides me into position.
No good will come of being in his presence before I can act. But there isn’t a single way to refuse him that wouldn’t blatantly give me away.
Protocol dictates I say something about this being an honor. And yet, if I speak, he will have no lingering doubts about my identity. Pulse erratic, I keep my stare pinned on a fold in his cravat. It is the best I can do to remain hidden behind this mask.
Alaric’s gloved fingers press against the bare skin of my lower back. He doesn’t press me to speak, and his touch is as gentle as ever, holding no irritation or anger at my lack of respect.
After a while, when there still isn’t any indication he recognizes me, my shoulders relax. The moment only lasts a breath before he leans in and whispers in my ear. “I never thought to see you again.”
He catches me as I stumble, disguising the misstep fluidly. My head snaps up. When I meet his gaze, I find his expression unreadable. Candlelight glitters in his deep blue eyes, like stars in the night sky through his mask.
There is no point in lying. “Will you tell her I am alive? That I am here?”
“No.” His answer is immediate.
I do not know what to say to that, because I am unsure what game he’s playing.
There are too many things to consider, too many things to predict, too many things it could mean if he is lying. The string of hope keeping my heart from breaking into a million jagged splinters, frays a little more.
“Why did you do it—tell her to kill me?” I ask, my voice is barely above a whisper.
Alaric’s brows furrow, as if he has no recollection of that day. “I—” he starts, then shakes his head. “Why are you here?”
“Because you are here.” The words are out before I can stop them.
“You have said that once before,” he says. The knot of his throat bobs. “I didn’t—”
Whatever he was about to say is cut short by the abrupt cessation of music.
I jerk my hands from his grasp and move back, pressing into the throng, keeping my head bowed and gaze locked on the polished floor.
Unnatural silence fills the room. Though the air is warm, a chill washes over me, and I am barely able to keep my body from trembling. Fabric rustles as the crowd parts. The slow clack of a single set of footsteps nears.
Despite what Alaric said, had I missed him sending her a signal? Or were we betrayed by someone else… someone pretending to be an ally?
I squeeze my eyes tight, begging the saints to let me go unnoticed but when I open them again, the hem of her blue-green dress stops within my line of sight. And I know the saints have not heard my pleas, or they have chosen to turn their backs on me.
I gather my fury and rage around me like armor, using it to strengthen my spine and keep the crushing weight of all Elizabeth stole from breaking me. Then I lift my head and face her.
Her lip curls. “I should have expected it, but I am surprised to see you alive…” Then her conversational tone turns venomous. “It would have been so much better if you’d died.”
Now is the time to be careful. I cannot fail. I must weigh each word and action, but I cannot bring myself to cower at her feet.
A large hand grabs me, twisting my arm behind my back, and shoves me forward.
Demon shit.There’s no way to reach the dagger fast enough to act without Elizabeth killing me first.
Nearby revilers shift away, not wanting to get between their queen and the human unfortunate enough to stoke her ire.
Keeping my head held high, I remain silent.
