"I don’t give a fuck. Payback is still going to be a bitch."
When we arrived at the stables, the servants looked genuinely shocked to see us. Their eyes and mouths went wide as they took us in, and they all faltered as if they’d possibly seen a ghost... or five.
Cal spouted off the spiel about purchasing me an extra horse, and as that servant worked on corralling our steeds, he flagged down a different stable hand to run an errand for us.
"Tell the servants inside the palace to have our rooms ready for us. We’ll need ballroom attire, a quick bath, and probably a few snacks as we prepare—since we haven’t eaten all day. And above all else, do not tell our father that we’ve returned. We want it to be a surprise when we show up at the ball."
The servant smiled and bowed his head. "Yes, Your Highness. Right away." And with that, he ran from the barns.
I turned back to Cal. "How much of a head start do you think he needs?"
He grinned. "Blackwood servants are the best in the land. We can start moving right now, and everything will still be ready for us by the time we reach our bedroom doors."
Both of my brows rose. "Impressive."
As we exited the stables, I scanned the stalls for any servants that might’ve looked familiar, but I found none.
That’s all right. Gemma’s not a stable hand. Of course, she wouldn’t be here.
By the time we all reached our respective rooms, the doors were open and the requested items were lying on our beds. I glanced inside my room and gasped with glee. "Goodies!"
Tray after tray of cakes, pies, cookies, puddings, crepes, and pastries sat neatly on my silken purple sheets. Beside them rested a gorgeous gown that seemed to be woven out of fine strands of silver and gold. It was thin, possibly even transparent in places, and shimmered like sparkling metal in the candlelight.
"Meet us out here in the hallway in a half hour," Cal said, leaning casually on my doorframe.
I stuffed a cupcake into my mouth and groaned at the delicious vanilla flavor, then nodded my understanding. "I’ll be there."
"Don’t be late," he pressed.
I crossed my eyes in his general direction. "Don’t be bossy."
He grinned and shook his head, patting the bag that hung at his side, the one that held our fake chimera egg. "Moment of truth. Time to see if this plan of ours works or not."
I took a deep breath and swallowed another bite of cupcake. "Don’t do that to me. At least allow me to enjoy my sweets before you have my nerves forcing me to puke it all back up."
"Gross," he said with a grin.
"Your fault."
He shook his head and exited my room, shutting the door behind him.
That final half hour was a whirlwind of chaos. One minute I was splashing rose-scented mineral water all over myself, and the next I was gobbling up crepes. One minute I was attempting to do my hair—rather unsuccessfully, I might add—and the next I was throwing on makeup. One minute I was nibbling on cookies, and the next I was shimmying into my new dress. The shoes that went with it were flats, which I appreciated, but they were absolutely covered in gold and silver beads. Not jewels, I’ll admit, but they were still made of a material that I’d mined day in and day out, albeit inadvertently.
The guys were ready and waiting by the time I entered the hall, stunning visions of black and white and gorgeousness. They ranged from blond to brunet, peach to tan, tall to taller, and they all tied in the sexy department. I had a bad feeling I was ogling them all rather inappropriately, so I cleared my throat and smiled brightly. "I’m ready!"
Dan quickly turned to Cal. "Surely the egg can wait?"
Cal sighed and rolled his blue eyes. "No, you cannot have a quickie before the ball. We’re already running out of time as it is."
"Damn." Dan shook his head, eyeing me like the icing on a cupcake he very much wanted to lick off.
And fuck if I didn’t want to lick him off too.
"Speaking of the egg," Ben began, glancing at Cal. "Do you have it?"
Cal patted the messenger bag at his side once more. "Right here and ready to go."
I looked down both sides of the hallway, wondering if I’d find Gemma or my mom roaming the corridors, but I found neither.
"Have you seen anyone I know?" I asked the guys in a nonchalant tone despite the obviousness of my words.
"The queens are probably already at the ball, Jewels," Rob said, trying to reassure me.
"And the servants are no doubt working the kitchens," Ben added. "You’d be surprised the amount of drinks and hors d'oeuvres your guests go through during a ball."
I smiled, but my heart wasn’t in it. Something felt... off.
"You ready?" Dan asked me, a little unnecessarily. I mean, I was standing out there, wasn’t I? Obviously, I was about as ready as I was ever going to get.
Instead of allowing my nerves to turn me into a smart-ass, I simply nodded and avoided opening my sarcastic mouth.
"All right," Rob said with a devious grin. "Let’s do this shit."
Cal smiled sympathetically and offered me his elbow.
I put my hand on his arm, and as we walked to the ballroom, my stomach twisted into knots.
I couldn’t put my finger on one particular thing that was bothering me—I mean, pretty much every detail of this harebrained plan was a risk anyway—but still I knew, in the pits of my soul, that something was about to go terribly wrong.
Chapter 27
CHRISSEN
A few days ago, I cut my hair.
My life had changed so abruptly, I now felt like a completely different person. May as well look like a different person too.
I told the dead servant girl with the scars that the Storm King had made me do it, but that was only half true. He didn’t tell me to cut it; he didn’t hold me down and shave it himself. He just showed me his true colors, and by doing so, altered the very fabric of my being. I could never be the same again after watching him torture my mother in front of me. Never. So, I cut my hair—a symbol of who I was now, in stark contrast against the man I was before. It seemed fitting.
I still couldn’t believe the girl had died.
He’d beaten her that night when she accidentally knocked the armor down; I was sure of it. I knew in my heart I should have stayed, should have helped her clean up the mess, should have saved her from whatever punishment she had coming by saying it was me who ruined the armor... but I didn’t. Afterward, she’d wandered out into the gardens, leaving a trail of blood behind her, consequently drawing the keen nose of a wolf. A fucking wolf.
The king said it was her own fault for sneaking off to whore around—there’d been two sets of remains found the next day, one of which was a man’s—but I knew it was his fault and his alone. If he hadn’t hurt her so badly over something so stupid, if he hadn’t drawn blood, she never would’ve attracted the wolf in the first place.
I was a guilty fucking mess.
I sat on a throne to the right of the king—I refused to call him father anymore, unless he made me—watching the dancing crowd of partygoers with listless eyes. We were at a ball, a ball thrown in my honor, to celebrate my newfound status as a prince of Blackwood.
I’d never felt more depressed. More ashamed.
The ballroom was elaborate as ever, all decked out in diamonds that reflected the candlelight, lending a champagne-colored tint to the very air around us. It was beautiful and intoxicating, like something from a fairy tale, but I knew better than to let it sweep me away. I knew what this place really was, and beauty had nothing to do with it.
"You should be dancing, Chrissen," the king said, a merry smile lighting up his face. He was so good at faking innocence it was sickening. "This is all for you, after all."
I did my best to smile back. "I don’t enjoy dancing anymore."
His smile brightened, crinkling the outer corners as if he were happy rather than homicidal. "Allow me to amend that statement. Go dance, now, or I’ll have no choice but to speak with y
our mother on the issue of your insubordination."
I stood in an instant, bowing my head to him with a steely glare. "Yes, Your Majesty."
I adjusted the decorative purple jacket I wore, complete with silver tassels and badges, and smoothed down my bright white pants. It still felt foreign to be wearing the royal colors—even more so now that I despised them. I made to smooth down the locks of my hair, then remembered in a listless instant that they were gone, never to return. I paused, midreach, and lowered my fist to my side.
When I was sure I was presentable, I waded out into the crowd and grabbed the first woman I could find—a pretty blonde who practically threw herself in my path.
"Oh my gods," she gushed, clinging to my shoulders tightly. "I can’t believe I was the first woman you chose to dance with! My friends are going to be so jealous."
"No need to be jealous," I muttered as the music began and we started to sway. I was no one special. But then her smile fell, and I realized she must have taken that the wrong way, that she was nothing to be jealous of.
"Shit, sorry. I meant, dancing with me is not that exciting." I glanced down and noticed she was wearing a gaudy pink dress. "You look lovely, by the way."
Her smile returned, almost as if it’d never left. "Thank you! You know, it’s not every day a girl gets to stand hand in hand with a prince. I feel so lucky tonight."
I smiled slightly and rolled my eyes. "What about a prince who was raised as a commoner up until a few weeks ago?"
"Beggars mustn’t be choosers, Prince Chrissen," she said with a sly grin.
If only I’d taken that advice sooner. I could have been tucked peacefully in my bed, awaiting another new day at the forge. Instead, I was keeping my every move in check, hoping I wouldn’t somehow sneeze wrong and get my mother flayed.
"You know," she said as we breezed across the dance floor, "I’m in the market for marriage."
I almost tripped over my godsdamned feet.
I tried to swallow, but my mouth was suddenly dry. "Trust me, miss, there’s not a woman alive who couldn’t do better than a Blackwood prince."
She patted my chest before slipping her hand back onto my shoulder. "So humble, Prince Chrissen. But I believe you have that the other way around. No woman could do better than a Blackwood prince. You’re the top of the food chain now, Your Highness."
I sighed, realizing there was no way to warn her off without getting my mother raked through the coals. Besides, it’s not like she stood a chance in hades of ever becoming a princess anyway. This was all just for show, to keep up appearances. I wasn’t interested in any of these girls. I was only interested in...
I sighed in frustration and pushed the image of Alexis out of my head.
"Regardless," I said, gazing out at a sea of faces that bled together like watercolors, "none of the princes are all that eligible at the moment."
She giggled as if I’d told a lame joke she was pretending was very funny. "Of course they are! Only Prince Calvin is married. That leaves his three brothers and you wide open. The king has already hinted about the princes taking wives soon, now that they’re approaching their thirties."
I blinked. Well, that was news to me. Very bad news.
"We’re only twenty-eight," I managed to choke out. "That should give us at least two more years to decide."
As the dance ended, she slipped a piece of paper into the front pocket of my suit. "And when that time comes, you know exactly who will be waiting for you."
I honestly hoped I never saw that woman again. Not because I didn’t like her, or she wasn’t attractive, but because I wouldn’t wish this life on anyone. The people of Blackwood didn’t know what horrors lay beyond the palace gates. They didn’t know how good their lives truly were. And it needed to stay that way.
As the songs continued, I was forced to deal with more and more ladies, politely turning down their advances after each and every dance. After a few hours, my arms and back were tired from holding my posture, and my legs and feet ached from gliding across the floor in shoes other than boots. Gods, I missed my work boots.
I glanced up at the fancy crystal clock that hung on the side wall above the musicians. It was almost midnight—almost time for this shitshow to finally be over.
My current dance partner and I twirled around the room with a little more pep in our step, but only because I was anxious to get the ball over with. We spun and swayed, making our way from the thrones over to the musicians, to the grand staircase where everyone had originally filtered in from.
And that’s when I saw her.
An angelic vision in a thin, gold and silver gown. Her dark hair flowing in some magical breeze that clearly didn’t blow by me. I loosened the collar of my dress shirt to try and cool my suddenly heated skin.
As she climbed that final step at the top of the stairs, I gazed from her sandaled feet up to her slim and shapely legs, over her tiny waist and plump breasts, up to her delicate throat and her kissable lips.
Fuck, she was beautiful.
I barely even registered that her husband and the other three Storm Princes were behind her. And for some reason, I didn’t even care. I held my current dance partner out at arm’s length and let her go, making my way toward Alexis at the top of the stairs.
I bowed to her, having the honor of watching her lips part in surprise and the guys glare fucking daggers my way. Then I turned to Calvin. "You won’t mind if I steal a dance with your lovely wife? It is, after all, a ball in my honor."
Calvin’s eyes narrowed, taking Alexis’s forearm as he scanned the ballroom with suspicion. "And why the hell are we celebrating you? Least of all at the palace."
I cocked my head, feigning an arrogance I didn’t even feel. "Oh, you haven’t heard, brother? I’m the newest Prince of Blackwood."
Chapter 28
ALEXIS
No fucking way was this actually happening.
My mind went completely numb as Chrissen’s words played over and over in my head on repeat. I’m the newest prince of Blackwood.
Had we read that sneaky servant Frederick’s clues all wrong back at Nightshade Castle? When he’d told me the story of the king’s sterility and the possibility that the princes were immaculately conceived, I thought that meant the Storm King was onto the fact that the princes weren’t really his sons, and neither were any of the bastards. But if the king believed Chrissen to be one of his sons, then... maybe we got something backward or confused?
I put my hand in Chrissen’s and stepped closer.
"It’s all right, darling," I said to Cal, trying to sound cool and collected. "It seems to be the final dance of the evening, and I have a few questions for the new prince anyway."
Before any of my guys could protest, Chrissen was gliding me across the dance floor in a delicate waltz. Our movements were slow and fluid, the tune almost sad.
"How are you, Alexis?" he asked me with a grin.
I was surprised to find three dimples on his face: one in each cheek, and one in the middle of his chin at the base of his broad jaw. It was a strong face, but one that also somehow looked innocent.
"I’m okay," I said, unsure of how to actually address him. Prince Chrissen just sounded all sorts of wrong, but then, I supposed that’s who he was now. The Storm King didn’t fuck around with insignificant details. He wouldn’t be throwing this ball in Chrissen’s honor if he wasn’t truly an official heir. "And you?"
"Never been better," he said with a smile. The only hint of sarcasm came from his eyes, which visibly darkened when he spoke the words. Plus, I could literally feel the malice radiating off him. He was emotionally wounded, and we all knew damn well who to blame.
I nodded. "As a prince of Blackwood, you’ve no doubt already learned how wonderful it is to be here."
"I dare say, I have."
His words were hollow, and my heart broke for him. No one deserved the torture, the manipulation, and the overwhelming guilt and responsibility that came with being a Blackwood r
oyal. No one.
"What did you need to ask me?" he questioned, floating us around the room while the guys glared and made their way closer to the king.
I swallowed hard. "Have you felt anything... strange lately?"
His eyes sharpened on mine, and I knew in an instant that he had. "Why?"
"Was it like..." I continued curiously, "a blood-curdling pain in your chest, stemming right from your heart? Did it make you feel like you could die at any moment? Or did it keep you from dying when you probably should have?"
He’d all but stopped moving, so I had to tug on his muscular arms to keep the dance going. We moved sluggishly as his brain matched my words to the events of the past few weeks, and something like relief washed over him.
"Was that... you?" he asked.
I glanced at my Storms as they approached the king. The latter stood up and held out his arms as if he were genuinely pleased to find his sons alive and well.
"It was all of us," I admitted, dragging my eyes back to Chrissen. "We forged a bond of blood and magic, and we’re pretty sure you got included in that."
"Me?" His blue eyes went wide, and for the first time, I realized there was a hint of green and yellow in them. "How could this happen?"
I closed my eyes and shook my head, opening them back up with remorse. "We weren’t as careful as we should have been during the ceremony. Your blood... it was on Rob’s hand, and..."
His body went suddenly rigid, and his gaze turned hard and cold as stone. "So, you mean to tell me, if I hadn’t been punched in the face for no good reason, then I wouldn’t have been magically bonded to you guys and none of this shit would have ever happened? I could have been living my life in peace back in Blackhaven?"
I shook my head. "No. The pain we felt coming from your end of the bond a few weeks ago was excruciating. You would be dead right now if you hadn’t been bonded to us."
His jaw ticked. "And the pain I felt coming from you guys was equally as terrible. So, I assume it’s safe to say we all kept each other alive... thanks to this bond."
Stormy Nights (Storms of Blackwood Book 2) Page 23