“That’s quite all right,” he said. “Just try not to cause too much drama this evening.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“Why doesn’t that comfort me?” Folas grunted.
He joined my side as we rounded the corner leading into the main hall filled with guests drinking from pewter goblets.
“Prince Lark,” several of the older females called with throaty laughs.
This appeared to be the gathering place of matronly Fae. Surprisingly, Kenzie Maglen stood among them in a dark blue gown with a tight waist and wispy layered skirt that clung to her legs. Her long red hair was loose and curled at the ends. A shimmery blue mask was pulled atop her head like a headband. An elderly Fae in a tweed suit spoke at her side, encroaching on her space with each wobble of his cracked lips. The skin beneath his chin hung loose and wrinkled. The countess stood on Kenzie’s opposite side, her smile looking forced. Kenzie wore a glazed expression of boredom until she noticed me heading straight for her.
“Prince Lark,” she said, waving.
“Good evening, Miss Maglen. Look at how well we match.”
I wore a deeper blue, but my comment made her giggle. The wrinkled piece of Fae leather narrowed his eyes, shooting me a withering frown.
The countess looked me over with a forced smile. “Welcome, Prince Lark. Are you here alone?”
She looked past Folas as though he didn’t exist. Folas ignored her as though she didn’t, either. My smile faltered. Folas was more than a guard. I’d grown up with him. He was like family. Gayla felt like a little sister to me.
“My aunt will be here momentarily.” I turned to Kenzie, able to smile again when I looked into her bright face. “May I escort you into the ballroom?”
She reached for my arm, then stopped and blushed. “Oh. Wait.” Long, delicate fingers pulled her mask over her face. She grinned once it was in place. “Ready.”
I held out my arm, and she took it. Her hand was so gentle I could hardly feel the press of her fingers. Such a difference from the females who squeezed and pulled at me.
We walked in to classical symphony music. Sky, these things at Ashcraw were stiflingly formal. The young dancing couples moved in an orderly fashion that made my eyes feel like bleeding.
“What would you like, Miss Maglen. A dance? A drink?”
“Um.” Kenzie chewed on her bottom lip. She looked from the refreshment tables to the dancers. Her eyes lingered on a particular male wearing a white-and-gold suit with a mask to match.
“Easton Olaro looks dashing this evening,” I noted with a wry grin.
Kenzie’s cheeks flushed. She looked away from him, taking a quick interest in the measured steps of couples dancing nearby.
Not only was Kenzie refreshingly sweet, she also had good taste in males. I’d seen Easton treat servers with the same polite respect with which he addressed the nobles.
“We should dance,” I said.
Kenzie’s smile was cut off by a fox-faced Crispin pulling her away from me. His jaw was tight beneath the curved cheeks of the mask. The eyeholes were cut into slits. It was difficult to make out his eyes behind them. It gave the appearance of black feline eyes peering at me. Silky brown hair swept loosely over his shoulder, beckoning for my fingers to grab hold of his fine locks.
“What is this?” Crispin demanded.
“Prince Lark just arrived.” Kenzie frowned at her brother, sounding confused.
“Why are you with him?”
“Crispin,” Kenzie hissed. She darted a glance my way and blushed. I took it as embarrassment over her brother’s rude behavior. Her pinkened cheeks made Crispin jerk his fox face at me.
He released his sister. “Lark, may I have a word with you . . . in private?”
“Crispin!” Kenzie turned wide, beseeching eyes on her brother.
We both ignored her. My heart hammered, out of tune with the harmonic pitch of the violins. I knew Crispin’s idea of getting me in private likely involved threats, possibly violence, but it was an offer I was helpless to turn down.
“In private,” I repeated, turning the word over thoughtfully. “So that you can slap me again?” I asked with an edge to my voice.
Kenzie sucked in a breath. It was difficult to make out expressions behind the masks.
“No. I just need a moment of your time.” It sounded like he was gritting his teeth.
“Do I need to bring along my guard?” I pressed.
“Just come with me,” Crispin growled. He spun on his heel, sending his coattails flying. I caught a flash of black beneath his red threads. He looked gorgeous, as usual.
I liked pretty males. Well, one specifically. Any time I checked out other guys, my mind began a litany of comparisons in which Crispin came out on top. No one had his arrogant lips or delicate cheekbones. He was slender without appearing slight. I could listen to the distinguished inflection of his words until I was old and gray and still never tire of his voice. I was dying to run my fingers through that shiny, silken hair, especially when it was unbound. Fuck it all. I had it bad.
“If you’re leading me to the parlor, I suggest finding a different location. My aunt is there with your father.”
Crispin made a choking sound. Then he was storming out of the ballroom without a backward glance to see if I followed. He strode past the old crones drinking and gossiping in the hall and disappeared around a darkened corner.
After making my way through the crowd, I slowed and turned to find Folas trailing me. I met his gaze and shook my head. He stopped and pursed his lips. I raised my hand before turning to catch up to Crispin. Several times, I turned to make sure Folas didn’t follow. He stayed put. Didn’t move an inch. Kept that glowering face aimed my way in silent defiance. He wouldn’t follow me, but he’d be waiting.
Taking a deep breath, I hastened my steps along the shadowed hall. Was Crispin taking me to his chambers? Keep dreaming, Lark. I snorted to myself.
The sconces were fewer between the farther I walked down the hall as though to signal that guests weren’t welcome in this section of the manor. Shadows spread as I neared the corner. Fire simmered beneath the surface of my skin, and unease prickled over me. What if Crispin jumped me and tried to toss me headfirst into the stone wall?
I slowed my steps, moving stealthily around the corner. It was no use. The moment I rounded the bend, Crispin grabbed me by the collar and threw me against the wall.
Crispin
My sister and Lark. It was my worst nightmare.
Bits of smooth blue scarf and wool bunched in my fists. He was at least an inch shorter than I was, but even though I had him backed against the wall, I knew he easily could push me away.
“Stay away from my sister,” I snarled into Lark’s face.
He lifted his chin, running his eyes through his black mask up my face, and scoffed. He probably took this as a challenge. I should have shut up about Kenzie, but I wanted him to keep away from her—her and every other female in the kingdom.
From this close, I could smell the intoxicating scent surrounding him. It was warm and spicy, woody and aromatic. Unable to help myself, I inhaled him like a spring bouquet after winter.
Lark’s nostrils flared. “Maybe you’re the one I want.”
His words were so unexpected that they took several seconds to register. I released him as though he’d scorched my fingers. I took a step back to break free of his heat. But no flames licked his skin. The only fire to be seen was in his blazing blue eyes, locked on mine.
My heart caught fire on that gaze. It scorched my ribs like an iron brand shoved straight through my chest.
He was taunting me, of course. His even tone made it torturous, like he was speaking in earnest. All part of the mind fuck, I knew that much for certain. Still, I breathed a little deeper.
“A halfling and a liar,” I said in disgust. It wasn’t too difficult to sound revolted with all the unwelcome feelings churning inside my gut. I stepped closer to show I would not be int
imidated. “You get your tongue pierced like your father?”
Lark was glaring at me now. Good. Back to usual.
“Why don’t you kiss me and find out?” he challenged.
A wave of longing crashed through me. My traitorous eyes studied his lips, considering it before my brain caught up. But it did catch up. Thank Sky.
I straightened my spine and lifted my head. “I am not playing your games.” I sneered at him the way I had when he’d asked me to play ball when we were kids. I spun on my heel, nose in the air, and strode away.
My mother and her friends were a blur down the hallway. Their chatter gnawed through my eardrums like termites chewing through rotten logs.
He’d been toying with me. He hadn’t actually said he wanted me. He’d said “maybe.” Maybe was one of those trick words in Faerie, as useful as a “perhaps.” A suggestion without weight.
Maybe you’re the one I want.
Nice try, princeling.
Kiss me and find out.
No. Didn’t need to do that. Clearly, his tongue wasn’t pierced. If it were, he wouldn’t have needed to use the “maybe.”
It meant nothing. But maybe it did.
His blazing blue eyes blistered across my mind. That intoxicating smell of him still lingered in my nostrils. (Probably cologne from the mortal realm.) His voice had softened when he first spoke.
Maybe you’re the one I want.
Maybe played on repeat, drowning out the symphony as I reentered the ballroom.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Until it turned into a soft suggestion.
Maybe.
Kenzie stormed up to me, hands on her slender hips. “What did you do to Prince Lark?”
“I told him to stay away from you.”
Kenzie lifted her hands to her face and groaned. “Crispin, how could you? He was being nice, which is more than I can say for the majority of this gathering.”
“Quite the flatterer, I’m sure. A skilled flirt,” I said sourly.
Kenzie huffed indignantly. “It wasn’t like that at all. He rescued me from Mother. I think he just wanted me to join the group inside and enjoy the party. Now he’ll never speak to me again.” Whirling around, Kenzie stomped off in the direction of the refreshment tables, leaving me watching with my mouth agape.
Could it be true?
For once, were Lark’s motives pure?
Had I fucked it all up yet again?
The music and conversations drifted into the distance. It was all starting to feel like a dreamscape. Like I wasn’t really there.
I wanted to join Kenzie at the wine table and drink myself into a stupor.
I wanted to wake up.
I wanted to travel back in time and do things differently.
Nearby guests gasped in awe. The dancing couples all stared at me. No. Not at me. Past me. I turned and saw Pervinca sweeping through the doorway resplendent in a pink silk ballgown. The full skirt spilled from a high waistline beneath her bosom. Embroidered flowers, leaves, and vines covered the entirety of the gown. Light pink gemstones glimmered around her neck and from a gray and pink mask, catching the light with each measured step she took.
Pervinca was followed by her parents . . . and mine.
My heart sank to the floor. This was it, then. My cold, bitter destiny wrapped in pink silk and sparkles.
My palms sweat with the urge to run. Damn it all to the seven hells. I should have kissed Lark Elmray when I had the chance. Even if he’d laughed at me, at least I would have tasted those taunting lips just once.
The sound of the violins faded away. Every servant we had on hand, including those lent to us by Aunt Eletha, descended on the ballroom, carrying silver trays with bubbling wine flutes. They might as well have handed out stones to cast me down.
My heavy breaths threatened to suffocate me behind my mask.
Not the worst way to go.
With Mother’s hand on his arm, Father walked toward me with a pointed stare. I joined my parents in the middle of the ballroom. Everyone hushed without having to be told.
“Honored guests, we are delighted you could join us this evening,” Father announced. “Tonight’s ball is extra special because we are celebrating the engagement between our son, Lord Crispin Maglen, Earl of Ashcraw, to the lovely Miss Pervinca Peppercuff.” Someone whistled. Cheers went up. Father smiled. “Raise your glasses with me to toast this auspicious union.”
Bubbling wine lifted over heads before dropping to lips. The orchestra began playing.
“Dance with your fiancée,” Father hissed in my ear.
But Pervinca had been surrounded by her jeweled friends, all smiling and laughing. She didn’t spare me a glance.
I looked around, frantic until spotting Lark near the doors.
He ripped his mask off as though he wanted me to see his pain. Deep grooves lined his forehead and cut into his cheeks. There were no tears. Lark was no longer that boy playing in the castle courtyard. He was a grown male. Hardened by life and yet blindingly beautiful. He didn’t need fire magic. He glowed all on his own. He was a bright star. A brilliant comet of light. A golden prince.
Mask clenched in his hand, he stormed out of the room.
My heart gave a lurch. I knew this was it. If I didn’t stop him, I’d lose him forever.
Fool! I lashed out at myself. He wasn’t mine to lose. That didn’t stop my polished shoes from clipping out after him.
The hall outside the ballroom was clear now that Mother and her friends had joined the toast.
Lark headed in the direction of the parlor, his guard right behind him. I hurried in pursuit, becoming breathless before I ever caught up. My heart thumped up my throat. I felt lightheaded, like I might pass out.
In the parlor, Lark stood with his back to me, facing his aunt.
“So soon?” I caught her asking in confusion.
“You can stay, of course, but I’m leaving.” Lark’s words were desperate. Frantic. His words tugged me forward.
“You can’t go,” I said, hardly recognizing the pleading in my voice.
Lark’s body went rigid. The black mask was still crushed in his fist. He turned slowly, facing me, yet avoiding my eyes. I removed my fox mask, held it in front of me as though in offering. His aunt and guard stared at me.
Fuck! This wasn’t how I’d imagined things. I needed privacy, not an audience.
With a scoff of disgust, Lark circled one arm in the air. The blue ripples of a portal began to appear.
“Wait!” I yelled.
The portal only grew bigger. If I didn’t say something soon, he’d be gone and I would lose my chance forever.
“I don’t want Pervinca. I’ve never wanted Pervinca. I want you. It’s always been you.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Crispin
“I want you.”
Oh, Sky. The words spilled out of me. Not maybe. Not perhaps. I. Want. You. It couldn’t be unspoken.
Emotions scraped raw over my throat. He could still mock me. Laugh in my face. Or he could step through his portal and leave me with my heart on my sleeve.
The portal continued to shimmer beside him. Lark’s expression was unreadable. Well, I mean, other than the fact that he still looked furious and hurt, as though deaf to my confession. His extremely intimidating personal guard regarded me with pursed lips, as though assessing a threat. Princess Sarfina smirked from beneath her blue-and-black-feathered mask.
“Well, well, well. You do have remarkable taste, Crispin.” She sounded delighted.
The portal closed, and Lark’s shoulders sagged. “Give us a moment, will you?”
“Of course,” Princess Sarfina drawled seductively. She eyed me up and down, smiling the whole while. Finally, she sauntered away. “I’ll be in the ballroom making my grand appearance if you need me. Folas, come along.” The guard clenched his jaw and made no move toward the door. “Folassss,” Princess Sarfina beckoned.
The muscled guard dragged his feet every
step of the way. At the door, Princess Sarfina insisted he leave the room first, then closed the door behind her. It clicked into place, leaving me with Lark. I’d wanted to be alone with him, but now that we were, my heart beat erratically.
What the fuck was I supposed to do now?
I mean, I had some ideas. I just didn’t know where we stood. Maybe he intended to reject me and had decided to do me one kindness by sending our small audience away first.
Blue eyes raked over me from head to foot and back up. His gaze blazed a heated trail from my neck to my groin. I suppressed a shiver of pleasure at his open perusal.
“Want to get out of here?” he asked.
“What?”
His lips twitched into a smile right before he reopened a portal. He winked at me then stepped backward into the shimmering ripples. I hurried after him without stopping to think of the consequences. I was running away from my own engagement ball, but all I felt when I entered that portal was freedom.
The garish parlor lights disappeared, pitching me into a dark retreat. I recognized the room at once. It was Lark’s darkened bedchamber in Dahlquist Castle. The portal had barely closed behind me before Lark grabbed me by the lapels and crushed his lips over mine. Our masks dropped from our fingers. I took his golden head into my hands with a gentler touch than he showed me.
Lark was passion ignited. His tongue stroked mine in fiery licks. He fisted my waistcoat as though I might disappear if he loosened his grip.
I’d imagined something flirty playing out, not this frenzied hunger. We kissed and stumbled our way to the bed, pulling at one another’s clothing.
“Not taking it slow then?” Sky, I sounded arrogant. Hazard of growing up in an ancient, old-fashioned manor and raised by stodgy aristocrats. Sometimes, I felt like Lark and I were from different centuries.
Lark breathed heavily over my face, blue eyes bright and alive. “I’ve waited eight years for you, Crispin Maglen. So shut up and kiss me.”
Eight years?
“You’re not saying you’ve had feelings for me since you were, like, twelve.” I pulled away and studied his face.
The Golden Prince Page 6