Blaise looked about ready to gag with revulsion, which kept me from mentioning the tiny detail about me being pretty sure a mating bond had snapped into place, but she motioned for me to continue.
“I don’t know, Blaise. Ever since Jerad…” I trailed off, still unable to say the words, as if they would somehow make what had happened a reality, rather than the nightmare I’d been trapped in for the past year. Blaise reached her hand across the counter and took mine in hers. Her hand was cold and trembling. For the first time today, I noticed the dark circles underneath her eyes.
My subjects were none the wiser, but my late-night rendezvous had only increased in frequency since the accident.
For her, that’s when the late night rendezvous had begun.
“I miss him too,” she whispered.
I cleared my throat. I could hardly get a word out about Jerad, much less admit out loud how much I missed him. How empty this eternal life felt without him. “All the women I’ve met since…” I took a breath, and Blaise squeezed my hand. “They’re always so quick to bring up that I’m the heir. What a glorious kingdom I’m going to run when it’s my turn to take the throne.”
Blaise nodded, understanding creasing her pale forehead.
“She didn’t bring it up. Not once.” My throat went dry. “She just told me she was sorry. That she knew what it was to…to lose someone very dear. To have a life thrust upon her that wasn’t the one she’d envisioned for herself.”
Silver lined Blaise’s brown eyes before the tears began to spill down her sleep-deprived, sunken cheeks.
“We should both get to bed.” Dying inside from the pain in her expression, I tousled her raven-black hair. “Some of us were up all night and are in desperate need of a nap.”
She swallowed and nodded, pushing herself off the kitchen counters. As we left, her eyes narrowed in question. “What’d you say her name was?”
“Cinderella.”
“You know that has to be a stage name, right?”
CHAPTER 7
ELLIE
I had to admit, I’d half expected Orvall to send me to the dungeons for that little act of defiance I’d pulled back in the prince’s presence. So when he brought me to a cozy suite with a soft bed and a smoldering fireplace instead, I tried to act pleasantly surprised.
You know, as pleasantly surprised as one can be when they’ve accidentally sworn their life away to a twelve-year-old in an immortally twenty-five-year-old body.
“I suggest you rest,” Orvall said as I examined the room. “There is parchment on the desk should you wish to write your family.”
I nodded, the motion more a reflex than anything. I mostly wanted him and the guard to get out. Thankfully, they cleared their throats and shuffled away, shutting the door behind me. I watched the door handle as they did, noticing just the subtlest of jerks in the wood.
Subtle enough to be caused by a key in a lock.
Great.
So it seemed I was a prisoner, after all.
What did they think I was going to do? Run away? I’d come here willingly.
All at once, the injustice of it all overtook me, and I collapsed onto the soft silver pillows on the bed. Salty tears soaked the pillowcases and burned my cheeks as I sobbed, hoping that no one outside was listening. How weak they would think I was. Just a little girl, barely an adult by human standards, weeping into my pillows like a schoolchild.
But the embarrassment only fueled my tears, and I sobbed harder. Just this morning, I had woken to the belief that today would be different—I would finally present my shoes to the world and strike the deal that would launch my business into success. That my work would be profitable, something that would truly make my father proud, not simply amused.
My father. My throat tightened at the thought of him.
Would I even see him again? I had no idea what betrothal entailed for the prince. If he was as rash as everyone said he was, as he had already proven himself to be, what lengths would he go to in order to free himself of this betrothal? Would he kill me just to end the bargain? Would that even work, or would the fae curse that forbade fae from lying keep him from sabotaging the bargain with foul play? I didn’t have high hopes in that regard. The fae boasted a reputation for being ruthless when it came to finding loopholes.
That was it. Either I would be made a reluctant princess, or I was going to die. If that happened, Papa would probably die inside too. Mother would keep him as healthy as she could. She’d put on a strong face for him, but in the end she would crumple.
And there was nothing I could do about it.
By the time I awakened, the sun drooped low in the sky, its rays shimmering through my window which, from the looks of it, had been supplied by none other than yours truly. If I squinted, I could make out the brand in the lower right-hand corner, the curves in the glass that spelled my initials.
E.P.
There might have been a time when I would have been ecstatic about discovering my initials inside the castle walls.
Today was not that day.
It must have been late afternoon already, and I marveled at what a capable sedative shock made, forcing me to sleep for so long in the middle of the day. My eyes were puffy and tired, but the cry and nap seemed to have drained some of the tension that had built up in my chest. Now that my head felt clearer, I examined my room.
Indigo wallpaper with swirling silver patterns that matched the color of the sheets on my bed overlaid the walls. There was a desk in the corner, the one that I remembered contained parchment that I should probably use to write to my family. The door to my right had been left ajar, and it led into a spacious bath with a large silver bathtub. I’d have to indulge in that before I was inevitably assassinated.
Or moved to the prince’s quarters.
My cheeks heated at the very idea, but I banished the silly notion. My parents might have shared a room, but that likely was not standard practice among nobility. I couldn’t imagine Prince Evander sharing anything with anybody.
Except for perhaps his bed.
My cheeks burned this time, and I tried, with great difficulty, not to think of that, either.
A white-oak vanity perched on the wall directly across from the bed, and I ignored my reflection as I walked past it. I had no desire to see how disheveled I must look after a long afternoon of napping and crying and sniffling and snotting all over my pillows.
