And maybe it would be a good refresher for myself. I needed to learn to keep a better lock on my emotions. Letting anything slip could put us both—and our worlds—at risk. That was the problem with a secret plot; you never knew who was in on it, who could hurt you next. I hadn’t even told Tormin of our little arrangement, and Tormin knew nearly everything there was to know about me.
Squaring off with her, I began our lesson. “Tell me a lie.”
“Right now?”
“Right now. Anything.”
She considered the command for a moment, then said, “The sky is green.”
A ridiculous lie, which meant it was way too advanced for her. I could probably convince someone the sky was green, but as a beginner in the art of deception, she needed to stick with something less advanced.
“Something better than that. Something real. Something personal. Something you could actually convince me of.”
“I don’t have anything personal that I want you to know.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Obviously not.”
I didn’t care about what this human thought of me. So, why did knowing she didn’t trust me shock my system like I’d taken a curse right to the center off my chest? My father’s words reverberated in my head, bouncing around in my skull. In order to make peace, there has to be trust. Dammit. I was really going to have to do this, wasn’t I? Drinking in a deep breath for support, I caught her gaze and refused to let it go. There wasn’t any magical influence in the way I held her, but as it turned out, I didn’t need any magic to keep her slightly unfocused eyes directed upon me. In fact, I was the first one to flinch. Only when I reminded myself that this was for the people of Velkin did I toughen up, swallow my pride, and try again to say the words that I’d never before spoke out loud.
“Then I’ll trust you first. I never wanted to be King.”
“Really?”
“No. Before he was exiled, Adric and I had this plan. When my father ended his reign, I would step aside so Adric could be king. He always had the killer instinct, never let his emotions get the best of him.”
Almost all of our lives, I’d spent most of my waking hours envying everything that Adric was, wishing that he’d been the firstborn son so he could put his impenetrable emotional armor to good use. When we devised the succession scheme, I thought it was the perfect solution. I’d been wrong. I was starting to see now that perhaps not all humans were worthy of destruction. Perhaps.
She blinked. This didn’t seem the answer she was expecting. “You let your emotions get the best of you?”
“All the time.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“That’s why you came to me for lying lessons. I’ve had to become the expert at hiding everything I don’t want you to see.”
That was a deflection, and a weak one at best. I didn’t need her digging into what, exactly, I liked to hide and lie about, what emotions I took great pains to bury. She leaned back in her chair, and instantly, the air between us chilled. I wanted her close again.
“Are you lying now? Is that stuff about your brother true?”
“I swear it on the soul of Velkin. It’s the truth. I’ve never told another living being what I’ve just told you.”
The wind whistled through some of the weaker slats of the lighthouse’s second story; she shivered. It took all of my energy not to reach for my cloak and wrap her in it again. Last night, I’d dreamed of her in that cloak and nothing else...I wouldn’t give my wild imagination any other ammunition for fantasy.
“What were you going to do if you weren’t king?”
“I was going to run away to the hills and become the greatest painter Velkin ever knew.”
She laughed. That sound again. That damned, musical sound that played comfortably in my like the familiar bells of the palace. “Now I know you’re lying.”
This shouldn’t have been the humiliating part of the story. I should have been humbled by having to admit to a human that I didn’t think I would make a good enough king. As it was, I clenched my hands into fists as I revealed the softer side of myself, the one I rarely let anyone else ever see. “No. I’ve always loved art. It’s just not something a king can really do. I wanted to be free. Adric wanted to be king. It seemed like the best thing for the kingdom.”
“Are you upset that you have to see it through now?”
“We aren’t talking about me anymore. I’ve told you my secret.” I raised my eyebrow and leaned in closer to her, trying to draw her back in. If there was one thing that I knew captured her attention, it was my arrogance. “Now, you try to tell me your lie.”
“I can’t think of anything.”
It was my turn to laugh. When was the last time I’d managed to do that, really laugh in front of someone else and mean it? “Now, that’s the worst lie I’ve ever heard.” Rising to my feet, I offered her my hand. No gloves this time. “Come here.”
She recoiled slightly, her eyes brimming with fear. I had to remind myself that this was only the second civil conversation we’d ever had, and most of the talking we’d done was about how I thought she was a saboteur who needed defeating. In light of those circumstances, a little fear seemed healthy. “Why?”
“Sometimes, the best way to tell a convincing lie is to distract yourself. You can fiddle with your clothes or straighten a portrait on a nearby wall or count ceiling tiles.” I, for one, usually let my hand fall to my sword hilt when I needed help occupying my mind through a lie. How she hadn’t noticed that by now, I’d never understand. “Let’s try something a little more extreme and see how it works for you. Do you remember the dances from last night? The Leron?”
Now, her eyes were less fearful and more suspicious. “...Yes.”
“Good. Dance it with me.”
This was a gamble, one that could ruin everything between us. But I’d started now, and there was no going back without looking like a coward too afraid to dance with a beautiful woman. She didn’t move from her chair.
“There’s no music.”
With a snap of my fingers, I conducted the wind through the trees and the glass to compose us a soulful Leron song. The tune was more beautiful, more rich, than even the one that had played our dance last night. “Now there is.”
Once again, I offered her my arms. Dreaded moments of stillness yawned between us as I suppose she weighed out her next move. Of course, I could see that it was a difficult choice in her mind. On the one hand, if she backed down, then perhaps I would think her a coward. But if she threw herself into my arms, she was giving herself over to the beast.
What a dilemma.
Eventually, she took three painfully slow steps that closed the gap between us, and put her right hand in mine while placing her left hand up on my shoulder. I answered by slipping my free hand around her waist.
Oh, no. We were too far apart. That simply wouldn’t do. I tugged her closer, drawing a shocked, delicious gasp from between her lips as every inch of her pressed against every inch of me.
This wasn’t like the dance we shared last night. There was no crowd around to gawk. No barriers of propriety or decency separating us. Even my clothes, of which I had far fewer layers now, brought us inches closer together. Instead of the heavy, resplendent military dress and furs I’d worn to the ball, now I was dressed only in a pair of tight breeches, boots and a light tunic. She was similarly underdressed, having shed the long fur cloak she wore on her walk over here in favor of a light walking dress that very easily gave away the fact that she wasn’t wearing much beneath it.
The muscles in my body coiled, tightening as her every inch met mine, begging for even more closeness. Leaning back on my training, I distracted myself with the dance.
A distraction that nearly proved too distracting, if that was even possible. Unlike toying with a sword or brushing imagine dirt way from one of my jacket cuffs, I wasn’t alone in this. And every time I tried to distract myself, she was right there, answering that distraction wit
h some of her own.
I lowered my voice, hoping she could feel the reverberations through her chest. “Tell me a lie.”
“I can’t think straight with the dancing.”
“Yes, that’s the point. What kind of questions was Madame Dede asking?”
“I don’t know. Personal stuff. Asking if I thought I was special.”
“And do you?”
Now that I knew she was incapable of lying, asking questions came so much easier to me. There was no jockeying around the truth, no deciphering little codes and clues to decide what was real and what wasn’t. So, when she rolled her eyes and shrugged in my arms, I knew that she meant it.
“Don’t be stupid. Obviously I’m not special.”
“I don’t think that’s obvious at all.”
“It is to me.” Her voice was smaller now. I held her tighter. She cleared her throat and clearly tried not to notice as her swinging hips ran against mine like hot spring water over a desperate rock. A groan rose up in my throat. I fought, unsuccessfully, to hide it. “Just ask me something and I’ll lie.”
There was only one question on my mind that needed answering in this moment. One question that I knew I couldn’t ask. And yet, despite my better judgment, it was the question I offered.
“Are you attracted to me?”
Her steps, which until now had been easy and intuitive, as if our bodies were performing a call and response together, faltered. Her skin paled in the moonlight. “What?”
“That’s the question. Are you attracted to me?”
She opened her mouth once, twice, and a third time before blurting, “That’s the most ridiculous question I’ve ever heard.”
“Good. You’re trying to distract me. That’s a good start.” I was playing with fire now. I couldn’t help it. The blush I’d ignited upon her cheeks awakened the hungry beast inside of me. I wanted more, more, more of her. Dipping down, I let my lips brush her ear. She rewarded me with a sinful shiver. “But I still don’t believe you.”
“I am not attracted to you.”
“Sure,” I said, sarcasm dripping from my lips.
“I’m not.”
“I’d sooner believe that the sky is green.”
Her delicate heartbeat pounded against our touching chests, so fast I worried it would leapt out from the prison of her ribcage in a daring escape. But before I could press my lips to hers and give her the breath of life to save her stammering heart, she shoved away from me, violently pushing me away as she flew into a cold, calculating speech.
“Anatole. I am not attracted to you. You are cold, arrogant, and unfeeling. You have no idea how your cruel attitude has made these first few days miserable for me. Get this through your thick skull: You are the last person in Velkin I could ever allow myself to feel anything for.”
She was breathing heavy, her chest rising and falling with the effort it took to keep herself from falling over from the inertia carrying her away from me. The errant moonlight through the warped glass of the lighthouse gave her an otherworldly, ethereal glow, like one of the angels of the dead who travelled between our life and the next. An avenging warrior. A moon goddess who’d come to tell me that I wasn’t worth standing in her glow.
All that, and still, I saw through her bluff.
“I almost believed you that time.”
“What gave it away?”
“You looked down at my lips. And I knew you wanted to kiss me.”
That was a lie, and proof that I was masterful at creating them. The small deception was a gimmick, a trick to see if what I suspected was true. She hadn’t glanced at my lips. Nothing of the sort. But her response was confirmation enough. If the roles had been reversed, I would have asked if the feeling was returned. But she didn’t ask or even deny it. She made for the door.
“I think I need to go.”
“Why? Because you might give in?” I asked, more daring than I felt.
She paused at the top of the stairs. A heavy breath rattled her shoulders and sunk her chin downwards, but still, I caught the tugging admission of a smile pulling at her lips. “You know I’m not a good enough liar to answer that yet.”
And just like that, she was gone, leaving me with only one thought dominating my mind...How was I going to convince everyone that I hated her when my heart was racing for her now?
Chapter Fifteen
Carolyn
There were three things, currently, that were very low on my list of priorities. One: Interacting anymore with the humans in my Compatibility Seminar, considering that they all thought I was either sleeping with or about to murder Anatole. Two: Facing Kyra and her hurt, lonely eyes again. And three: Ever running across Anatole ever again.
Sure, the visions of the future said we needed to save the world together, but did that mean we actually needed to see each other? Because after last night’s fiasco—admitting my desire to kiss him and my body’s reaction to him—I wasn’t so sure we ever needed to cross paths, much less spend any time together.
Unfortunately, I’d used all my luck escaping Anatole last night when I ran out of the lighthouse before he could catch up with me, so when I woke up the next morning, it was to the sight of Kyra, floating near my bed as an angry, self-contained wind fussed her skirts.
“I cannot believe you didn’t tell me!”
“Kyra, it’s really early in the morning and I was up really late. Can you just tell me what I did wrong so I can apologize and we can move past it?”
“I know you were up late! Because you really are seeing Prince Anatole! You stood right in front of me and swore that the two of you weren’t going out, weren’t doing anything, and that was a lie! You didn’t just not tell me. You lied like some kind of cheap rug!”
Having basically had no friends for the majority of my life, I had very little experience in the accidentally-betraying-them department. Why did she even care who I was going out with anyway? What was the big deal?
But then I remembered that everything was a big deal to Kyra. She cared about me, and part of caring about me was caring about who I ran away in the middle of the night to go see. If she was the one slipping away into the night to rendezvous one of Velkin’s dark princes, I probably would have been upset that she didn’t tell me, too.
On the one hand, it was slightly annoying to have someone so interested in all of my secrets. On the other hand, it was nice to know that if this whole thing went south and Anatole kidnapped me or something, someone would care enough about me to go hunt me down. Small comfort, sure, but one I clung to all the same.
“It’s complicated,” I croaked, moving down towards the foot of the bed despite the bedroom debris flying all around her. “And how did you find out about it, anyway?”
“Nothing is so complicated that you cannot tell your best friend,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Fine. I’m sorry. It’s just...I don’t know if I can tell you.”
“Why? Don’t you trust me?” Slowly, the magic rising up around her, lifting her up off of her feet, subsided, until she drifted back down towards the floor and her Victorian-looking goth boots landed on solid ground once again. Her magical fury had subsided, but sadness still tainted the air.
“Of course I trust you. This is just...it’s big. It’s bigger than me and I don’t know—”
“Oh, is this about that end-of-all-civilization-as-we-know-it thing?”
My jaw dropped. I replayed what she’d said several times over in my head, trying to confirm that I’d actually heard her right. “You know about that?”
“Duh.”
In the blink of an eye, she’d gone from Pixie Rage Monster to Soft Pixie Princess. Helping herself to a seat on the edge of my bed, her voice returned to its usual light, airiness. Totally at ease, like we were just chatting about the weather instead of the entire world ending, she couldn’t have been more different than me. I was a nervous wreck. My hands shook, My stomach ached. My head pounded.
I’d been keeping
this secret from my one friend in the world and I didn’t have to?
“How did you find out?”
“Tormin told me.”
The Bells of The Academy rang out in the distance, signaling the start of the day. I leapt out of bed and rushed into some clothes so we could make our way to class. I’d totally slept through breakfast. “And how did he know?”
“His parents told him that you and Anatole were the key to saving everything.”
“You knew about this and you didn’t tell me?”
“Why would I want to know about your stupid world saving plans?” Kyra asked. Her confusion confused me. Were end-of-the-world scenarios so common here in Velkin that tawdry romances were more interesting? “I just wanted to know if you were—what’s the phrase—baiting up?”
“Do you mean hooking up?” I nearly choked.
“Yes! I wanted to know if you were hooking up so I followed you last night. Dancing the Leron in the most romantic place on campus doesn’t seem like doomsday prep to me!”
“I needed him to help me learn how to lie,” I said, buttoning my dress up to the neck. Didn’t want to give anyone an excuse to think I was trying to dress for attention. “That was his idea of a good lesson.”
“Well, did it work?”
“It worked, but not on my ability to lie.”
Even after I’d gotten home last night, I wasn’t able to sleep. I’d been replaying the dance, his body against mine, the music and the moonlight, over and over again until my head swam and my heart raced all over again. I don’t know what game he’d been playing. I don’t know what he wanted from me. All I knew was that something had changed last night...for better, or for worse.
Once I’d gotten ready, we headed out the door for my first class of the day: Human-Velkin relations. Only the royal-blooded Velkin and the humans were enrolled in this one, so Krya wouldn’t be in the class. Still, I was grateful when she decided to take the walk with me. Slowly but surely, I was learning the ways of the campus...just not fast enough.
Magic Exchange: A Supernatural Academy Romance (The Velkin Royal Academy Series Book 1) Page 12