The prince did not respond. Decidedly so.
“You needed a princess. Had I not come, you would have taken any other with the same title. To overcome your battle with Westrende and destroy the barrier that is the wall? To unrend the kingdoms, unbind your power, and crush them beneath the terrible weight of fae magic. Is that why I am here?”
“You are here because you chose it.” Then, as if he could not quite seem to help himself, he snapped, “You think me incapable of any act but destruction? That I am as corrupt as the tales say?”
One of her brows lifted. “Would you want me to admit such a thing?”
“When I ask a question of you, I would want that you could say yes or no without fear.”
“You do not trust me. You shut me out the moment I inquire about the slightest detail. You want something, need something from me owning to my station, but you do not want to marry me.”
His jaw flexed.
“I did come willingly, as you say. And yet, you accepted the bargain. A bargain in which I have only the choice to become your bride or to break our agreement and end up your prize.” His eye twitched. “There,” she said. “I see you, Alder. I understand that you do not want me. Not as your prisoner and not as your wife. You will not tell me why. So how do I win in such a situation? How, before the next moon, do I choose correctly?”
He straightened, the action drawing him away from her in a way that made her aware just how near they’d become. “There is no winning. You have already chosen. When moontide comes, the wedding ceremony will take place.”
So, he thought making the bargain was where she’d gone wrong. Perhaps it was true. But Alder did not know that outside the protection of his palace waited a fate far worse than any she might face with him.
* * *
They werequiet as they walked back to the wing that held their suites. Unwilling to reveal their hands, unable to back down, they were resigned to their situation, and possibly a little sheepish about the weaknesses they’d just revealed. At least, Mireille knew she was.
It was time for a change in tactic if she had any hope of breaking through his façade.
There were no footmen, no courtiers, no other present in the corridors aside from Mireille and the prince. She wasn’t certain if the others were in another part of the castle, or out for the festival, but the halls felt strangely quiet and still. If she had her bearings correct, the walls they strode between laid directly below the corridor outside the prince’s rooms. She glanced at the prince.
“Ask.” His tone was polite, and after a few strides without a reply, he gave her his gaze.
Her cheeks did not flush to be caught staring so openly, but it was a near thing. She held his gaze. “I was wondering whether these rooms lay beneath my suite.”
“They do,” he said.
“Then, likewise, yours, since they are connect?—”
“One final stop?”
She blinked. Bringing up their connecting chambers more than once may have come across as an all-too-eager interest in his suite, or perhaps his staff had shared what they’d overheard in the library. But Mireille suspected she was being shut down anytime she strayed near the subject of the women whose betrothals had surely come before her own.
The prince only drew them toward a pair of tall, elaborately-carved doors. There was a moment of hesitation before he stepped away from her to push wide the door. It opened into a massive ballroom. The sight took her breath. Outside, the moon had risen. Pale marble limned by moonlight from a row of arched doorways on the far wall covered the entire space. The opposite walls were lined with tall mirrors, creating a silvery glow that shifted with Mireille’s every step.
Faint music rose over the balcony like a whisper carried on the cool night air. She walked forward, her reflection keeping pace on every side, and she was helpless to prevent the grin that parted her lips. She spun, a bit giddy with the delight of it. The moment was so perfect, so lovely, that it did not seem real. Of all the beauty she’d experienced in his palace so far, this was the finest, made ethereal by the light and the music and the mirrors in the night air.
She remembered she was not alone, and paused her swaying to ask, “It is breathtaking, is it not?”
The prince’s dark eyes stayed on hers, and though he did not answer, he moved slowly toward her.
“Come, won’t you dance with me, here in the moonlight while the palace sleeps?” she dared to ask.
“The palace is not asleep.”
Her smile widened. “Pretend. Imagine with me that we are not a prince and princess, that there is no bargain and that we have never been at odds.”
He frowned. It did not make him any less handsome.
Mireille held her hand forward, and he took it, if reluctantly. She drew him nearer, her voice dropping. “Do you never relish a private moment? With every day surrounded by courtiers, by structure and formality, rarely alone to just…”
“Dance in the moonlight?” His voice was even, but not cold. He did not seem to find the moment unpleasant, and a bit of his surliness faded away as they stood, fingers entwined.
