“That would be nice. I wish I didn’t have to go through it at all.” With a frantic wave, she adds, “No offense, Your Highness, I am certain people would line up to marry you.”
Cyrus smiles into his cup. “Nothing so orderly.”
“I was…forgive me, but I was looking forward to falling in love one day.”
“Well, that’s not out of the picture yet, hmm?” I say curtly, holding out my hands. “Come on, let me see.”
Nadiya lays her hands over mine. Knowing what I saw last time, I steel myself for the grisly scenes that will appear. Shutting my eyes, I plunge into darkness. Distantly, threads of the past call to me, but I ignore them. In the future…
In the future, I see nothing. Not even the blur of threads being coy.
There is only emptiness. A void. A lack of what should be here.
My lips are pursing into a pout, but then I remember I’m supposed to be reassuring Nadiya. “Hmm,” I murmur encouragingly, while my mental self would like to screech aloud. This has never happened before.
But my past few nights have been oddly dreamless. The last time my Sight stirred on its own was during that fitful fever earlier this week, when the witch taunted me….
I open my eyes and meet Nadiya’s gaze without blinking. “The wedding will go smoothly,” I lie. “Keep your chin up, don’t drink too much, and stick by the prince’s side. I recommend some glamour, but not enough to enchant people with. Not enough to look suspicious if the glamourdoeswear off.”
“Oh—oh, okay.” She sits back hesitantly, smile more polite than genuine.
I grip her hand a second longer to add, “Highborn folk are all talk, no spine—take it from someone born penniless.You might not know how to bargain with a king, but you can stand your ground and be better than one. You’ve come this far, Nadiya Santillion. The future isn’t always kind, but you haven’t let that get in your way.”
A brighter smile lights her face. “Thank you, Sighted Mistress. I’ll try my best.”
Maybe the confidence boost will change the future in a small way. It’s all I can hope for. My thoughts wander back to the void of my magic, and dread slicks my stomach. What is happening to me?
Camilla’s humming and the sound of running water echo from the bathroom. The clink of the porcelain cup is particularly loud beside me when I know its owner is Cyrus. “I should get going,” I say, as the cheerful decorations become claustrophobic.
Cyrus stands up after me. “I’ll walk you back.”
I shoot him a look. “I know how to get back to my tower, Princey.”
He presses a hand to his heart, all innocence. Gods, his charm really is ridiculous when he uses it on me. “You’re still recovering. What if you faint?”
“Then may the arms of a rosebush catch me.”
As I leave, I hear him say his goodbye to Nadiya behindme.
The two of us walk out of Camilla’s rooms in step. As soon as no one is around, Cyrus asks, “Did you lie to her?”
“Of course. You owe me, hypocrite.”
“Times may be too desperate to rely on the truth,” he relents, hands skimming down the gold trim of his coat. “We have Felicita’s prophecy of ruin, a hapless girl in disguise formy betrothed, the dukesandmy father to corral—and then there’s you.”
Me. The one he wants. The one he wishes was never in his life.
“But when have you ever been anything but a problem?” Cyrus sighs. A few noiseless strides later, he pivots in front of me, fingers tugging at his collar. “Violet—”
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” I say, before the sweetness can seep into his voice. “I’m making sure some prophecy doesn’t kill us all. That’s it.” And I’m not even doing a very good job of it.
He smirks. “Is that why you dressed up for me?”
“It’s arrogant to presume.”
“Will you come to my study?” His question is a proposition—there’s no mistaking it.
I open my mouth to refuse when Cyrus adds, more softly, “Just this once?”
