So his face could be close to mine? My heart stuttered at the thought.
“I’m not sure which is more terrifying: dying, or being forced to live out my days bound to you.” The words came out as I’d intended them, that perfect balance of teasing and meanness that my parents would have been considered a sign of affection.
But the life in Evander’s smile dwindled, even if it remained plastered to his face. “Would it be so awful?” The teasing was there in his voice, too. Just not in the corners of his eyes.
“Oh, come on. You said yourself you don’t love me. That’s a bit of a nightmare, you know—for a woman whose dream was to marry for love. You’d get out of it, too, if you could.”
Evander reached out and touched my cheek with his thumb, sliding his fingertips into my hair and cradling the base of my skull. “I intend to treat you as a queen. I hope you know that.”
The muscles in my back tensed at his touch as lightning flashed through his fingertips and into my bones.
“Like how your father treats your mother?” I asked, if only to dissipate the tension I felt in this moment. The tension I knew was only one-sided.
He frowned, but he stroked my cheek all the same. “No. You’ll be my partner, Ellie. My friend. And, if the time comes, you’ll rule by my side, not through social parties. My mother was always too smart for the limits of her position. You’re too smart for that. Truth be told, I was always terrified of inheriting the throne. But then you showed up and”—he slipped his thumb and grazed my earlobe, sending chills down my neck that I prayed he couldn’t feel on my skin—“and I’m starting to think that maybe I could be enough. Enough for this kingdom. With you by my side, at least.”
I swallowed, a desperate attempt to regain my breath, my composure.
I was on fire.
All of me was on fire, down to my toes. Surely he could sense that.
“I wasn’t trained to do any of this,” I managed to choke out. “I’m still not being trained to do any of this.”
“You will after the Trials are done. And I’m with you. I wasn’t trained for any of this either. But here we are.”
He went silent for a moment and cocked his head, like he was taking me in. I tried not to get lost in those sea-green eyes of his, tried to remember all the reasons I couldn’t fall in love with this male. Oh, and there were many. I knew that much to be true.
The trouble was, with his fingers stroking my neck and his mouth so close to mine, I couldn’t remember what any of those reasons were.
He leaned in and brushed his cheek against mine. His warm breath caressed my ear as he whispered, “Would it really be so bad?”
I shook my head. No, no it wouldn’t be.
And then his lips were on mine, warm and soft as he kissed me. The pads of his fingertips grazed the length of my neck and traced my shoulder before he ran them down my back and pulled me closer to him. I closed my eyes and allowed my limbs to go weak as the warmth of the kiss radiated through my toes, through my fingertips.
When he pulled away, I found myself leaning in closer, following him. Wanting more.
When I opened my eyes, he was smiling down at me. He ran his hand down my arm and locked his fingers in mine.
“We should probably get back to the ball,” he said, to which my heart took a disappointed plunge. But then the grin spread over his face once more. “I wouldn’t want you thinking your betrothed wasn’t a gentleman.”
CHAPTER 44
The plain girl was becoming suspicious.
It was getting to be a problem, which was why the parasite decided something had to be done about it. Tonight.
The night of the first ball, during which the parasite first danced with the prince, the girl had gone with the most reasonable explanation—the Madame had obviously scammed her out of her hard-earned coin and peddled her a sleeping draft instead of a beauty elixir.
But the girl had been so overcome with a flood of conflicting emotions—what with the prince’s engagement and her reluctant concession that Ellie Payne was not as awful as she might have imagined—her indignation with Madame LeFleur had effectively slipped her mind.
That had all changed the night she’d woken soaked in Ellie Payne’s blood.
The parasite hadn’t had time to wash off, to burn the plain girl’s clothes, to bury the evidence of what had happened like she’d intended. When Ellie Payne had screamed, she’d alerted every guard stationed within three floors. The parasite had done well to reach the servant girl’s room before the moon peaked at its apex and the parasite surrendered the girl’s body over to its host.
The plain girl had sobbed.
She’d at least had the presence of mind to wash the blood off herself, to throw the clothes that bore the blood of Ellie Payne into the burning hearth. Later that night, when the plain girl had gone to check on Ellie, she still stank of blood.
Thankfully, no one had noticed. Not with the scent of Ellie’s wound overpowering her stench.
She couldn’t remember what had happened before, but there was no questioning that she’d done this. Not once the girl remembered the night of the ball, the hours she’d lost, the waking up in the streets. Not remembering how she’d gotten there.
The girl was many things. Jealous and lovesick and desperate. But she was not stupid.
She’d had conflicting feelings when she heard the news: Ellie Payne would make a full recovery.
She lied to herself about it regularly, but she could not hide the truth from the parasite. Disappointment had dropped like a jagged mace through the pit of the girl’s stomach. She’d shooed the feeling almost immediately, but not before the parasite tasted it.
The girl hated herself for that, even now. She considered it a lapse.
The parasite knew better.
The reaction had aligned with the girl’s truest self, her utmost desire, though she tried to deny it to herself.
She was the most desperate thing the parasite had ever inhabited.
