I doubted that. I doubted that very much. It couldn’t be a blatant lie, but trust a High Fae to drive a semi through a loophole the size of a pinprick.
“You can drop the lady,” I said. “Considering your House tried to have me killed at least three times that I know of.”
Silence.
Silence pregnant with a hundred violent possibilities, each one unfolding into death, destruction.
The silence of a male struggling to leash a temper rarely provoked becauseno onedared defiance.
I gathered my strength, what little of it there was in comparison to him, and—
The Prince laughed. Softly, a sliver of sound that nonetheless filled the courtyard, surprisingly warm for someone with winter night in his eyes, who stood so still he put the trees to shame.
“I didn’t realize I was a comedian,” I said, speaking evenly as if unaware of how close I hovered on a precipice, his hands poised to shove me off. “I must have missed my calling. Slaying enemies, telling jokes.”
Congratulations,Darkan said, managing to sound both weary and sour,you opened your mouth, with predictable diplomacy. Which is to say, none.
That’s what you get for leaving me alone.
You will have to grow up some time, Aerinne. I can’t always be here to save you from yourself.
Youareme.
Think that if it comforts you.
The dark tone of his mental voice hinted at secrets I feared, threads I shied from pulling. I didn’t want to unravel the carefully woven cloak of comfort he offered me only to find it concealed a monster. Or worse, a lie.
“Indeed,” House Montague's High Lord said, the caress in his voice silk and dripping candle wax. Pleasure and pain. “You may address me as Renaud.”
“No thanks. Though if you invite me to call you ass—”
“Mydaughteris honored,” Baba said. He glanced at me with a gentle smile, but the warning in his eyes made the expression a lie.
I shut my mouth, bracing to endure the train wreck of sepulchral amusement in the Prince's eyes.
“Lord Étienne,mayI takeyourdaughterin thedance?”
Those werethewrong words.The normal way to ask would be, MayI askyourdaughterfor thisdance?
I couldn't stop the rush of hatred that enveloped me. The Prince thought he could have whatever he wanted, and evidently he wanted me.
Fair warning. I mean for you to be mine. You may fight me if you choose—I would relish it.
But in the end, submission is inevitable.
Yours, Renaud
He'ddared.
I'd burned his letter. I’d burned his letter dreaming it was his palace.
My hackles rose. “I'm right here, you can ask me yourself.Ifyou manage to speak to me directly, I might say yes.”
Becauseyay diplomacy.
My father widened his eyes the way he did when he wanted to slam them shut and go bury himself in his darkened office forhours. I'd owe Babaseveralapologies for breaking my promise to restrain my natural impulses.
“Lady Aerinne, will you honor me with a dance?”
