Chapter Twenty-Six Felicity

Chapter Twenty-Six

Felicity

T HERE IS NO SHORTAGE OF balconies with beautiful views at Castle Craige, and the grand balcony jutting out over the mountain just off the courtyard is no exception. Only it's lousy with partygoers with their faerie wine and fake smiles.

My head is spinning, and I need a bit of privacy, so I slip away from the ball through the servants' hall back into the castle. I weave through the kitchen where the staff is preparing trays of sparkling wine and desserts. On the other side, I find a narrow staircase and take it up two flights. I don't know where I'm going, and I'm not sure I care. I just need to be alone. I need to be away from that crowd and the idea that somewhere among those females might be the one Misha will love. One who deserves his love.

Off the stairwell and down a long hall that takes me away from the cacophony of the ball, I find Misha's favorite dining terrace—empty tonight but for the breeze and the starlight. I take in several shaky breaths of night air before finally feeling my muscles relax.

I feel like I just walked away from a gift, but what could I do? Tell the shadow queen that, yes, I want to be with Misha? Stay here and allow him to think he's courting Jasalyn only to drop the real princess in the middle of this once Erith is dead and I can go home? Or worse? Allow Misha to get close to me simply because I can't resist and have him realize the truth before I'm safely back home?

The wind picks up and lifts my hair off my shoulders. I lean my forearms on the carved wooden rail and close my eyes, letting the breeze dance across my skin.

"How did I know you'd find a reason to sneak away from the party?" Misha's deep voice asks behind me.

Turning, I give him a gentle smile. I can't help but be glad he's here. Can't help that my heart unclenches and my blood hums in the warmth of his presence. "How did you find me?"

A caw echoes through the sky, and his hawk lands on the opposite railing.

"Good evening, Storm," I say to the bird before turning back to Misha. "I forget you have eyes everywhere."

"Not quite everywhere," he says, looking me over slowly. "I haven't had the opportunity to tell you how lovely you look in that dress."

My cheeks heat, which is ridiculous. He probably wouldn't find the real me attractive at all. Plump figure, white hair, blue eyes—Jasalyn's opposite in nearly every way. Not that I have the right to feel bitter about such things. "Thank you."

"I'll admit, I was surprised when you didn't want to make it yourself. I always loved your work. I know your sister's favorite items in her wardrobe are the ones you created as well."

I shrug. "Just a little burnt out on it."

He nods and steps up to the rail. The sun has long since set, but the moon is bright and the streetlamps in the valley beyond make for a lovely view.

I shift to stand by his side. I feel natural here. Safe.

"Brie said she talked to you about what's happening in the Seelie Court. The pressure their king is under."

Does that have anything to do with the Sebastian she mentioned? "Briefly," I say, hoping we can move on before I say something damning.

"I think the advisors are grasping at straws. Marrying you off to the golden king won't appease anyone, but your sister is in an awkward position, given her history. If she shoots it down, it will look like she still harbors feelings for him."

Does Abriella call the golden king Sebastian? "Wait—shoots what down?"

"She didn't tell you that part." He flinches. "There are advisors in this realm who think all political woes can be solved by a wedding. Some of my advisors default to the same problem-solving, but personally, I don't agree. Those in Ronan's court who are questioning his legitimacy as king are the same ones who would balk at an Unseelie princess as their queen."

I cut my eyes to him. "Then why push the idea at all?"

"Because they're fools. Devious fools." Misha shakes his head. "I can't decide what's worse, that his advisors may really be so foolish as to believe a marriage to you would quell any unrest or the more likely reality."

"Which is what?" I ask.

He swallows. "That they know very well that it wouldn't work, but they prefer to have you be the object of any political ire rather than their king." He slaps the rail. "Lunacy either way."

"Do you think King Ronan wants to marry me?" I ask in a squeak.

Misha cocks a brow at me. "King Ronan, huh? Are you practicing for your day at court now?" He huffs out a breath. "In truth, I think he's still in love with your sister."

"But she's bonded to Finnian."

"Of course, and we all know that's never going to change so long as they both live, but what he felt for your sister? That kind of love doesn't fade so easily."

I'm reeling. If Hale knew the depth of the connection between the courts' rulers, he would've found a way to send me to the Court of the Sun instead of the Wild Fae Lands. I have no doubt the queen would've allowed her sister to spend this time there instead, had she—had I —asked. I'm glad that I'm standing here instead.

"Would you..." He turns and studies my face, as if he's trying to memorize every inch. "Politics aside, would you want that? A marriage to the Seelie king? A life as queen to the Court of the Sun?"

It's always dangerous territory when I have to answer questions of the heart as if I'm Jasalyn, but Misha isn't asking what Princess Jas, the girl he knew before, thinks of this. He's asking about me . Maybe I'm fooling myself to believe there's a difference. Maybe my deception is all the worse for it, but I dismiss any thought of how Jas would answer and answer for myself. "No. I wouldn't want that."

Misha looks down at our hands next to each other on the railing and moves his pinkie finger to rub against mine. "Am I selfish to want to keep you here?"

"Am I selfish to want to stay?" I ask, and my breath catches on the swell of emotions in my throat. I wish I could hide away here forever. I wish I didn't have to face the horrors that await me in Elora. I miss my family, but so long as Erith lives, I will never be able to return to my life as I knew it.

Misha's face falls, and he pulls me into his arms. I don't try to stop him. I curl into his chest and breathe him in. He smells like clean pine and a new day, and with his warmth against my cheek, I don't feel so scared of what the future brings.

He rests his chin on my head and toys with the baby hairs on the back of my neck. "You can stay as long as you want. As long as this kingdom is mine, you'll always have a place here."

I close my eyes and flatten my palm against his chest. "Your new wife may feel differently."

He grunts. "I'm in no rush to find a new wife, Jas."

At the sound of that name and the reminder of what I'm doing here, I push away and straighten. "You need an heir, and you're not getting any younger."

He smirks. "Well, I am very old."

Laughing, I look up at him through my lashes.

His expression goes serious as he studies my face. "I can't decide if I love or hate that you won't let me into your mind."

My smile falls away. "Misha . . ."

"I understand," he says, settling a hand over mine on the railing. "And I respect it. But since I can't poke around and figure it out for myself, tell me what you think about tonight—about the ball. About the pomp and circumstance of it all."

I arch a brow. " That's what you'd want to know if you could get in my mind?"

"Not really." His gaze dips to my mouth and holds for long enough that I feel breathless. "If I could choose, I'd want to know if you thought about me after I left your chambers last night, and what, exactly, those thoughts entailed." The corner of his mouth lifts into a roguish smile. "But I'm trying to be a gentleman."

My cheeks are burning now, and I want him to kiss me so much that my heart aches. Want it so much that my lips tingle. I have to focus on taking my next breath. "The ball is beautiful." I give a coy smile. "As are all your guests."

He gives a grunt that is half laugh, half begrudging agreement. "It's a spectacle. My court isn't as regimented as the Court of the Sun and the Court of the Moon, but the people want to see that I'm at least looking for a queen."

"Perhaps you should be in there, letting them see you look," I say, finding my gaze on his mouth this time.

He notices, and the air between us goes taut. "Perhaps I should."

When he lowers his mouth to mine, every thought leaves my head and every word leaves my lips. I know nothing but how much I want to feel his kiss again.

His big hands sweep up my sides, cupping my breasts through my dress. I want it gone. I crave the contact of last night—with nothing but the thin, wet shift between his hands and my skin.

I grab fistfuls of Misha's hair, and he deepens the kiss. Our lips and tongues speak a language of their own, a call and response that feels like part sacred ritual and part forbidden pleasure.

He drags his mouth down the side of my neck, then lower, and I hear my own gasp. His hands are everywhere—behind my neck, sweeping over the exposed skin of my back, dipping to grip my rear. When he scrapes his teeth over the swell of my breasts—hot and wet and promising so much more—my body shudders.

I might be whimpering when he straightens again, pulling my body flush with his and bringing his mouth to my ear. I'm definitely trembling.

"I know," he murmurs. One of his hands is in my hair, and I can feel the artfully pinned curls falling. I don't care. "Gods, I know." He's clinging to me like he might fall off the world if he lets go. I'm clinging to him the same way. "I don't want to go back to the courtyard and dance and play nice. I want to take you to my chambers and get you out of this dress."

I curl into his chest. Yes. Please. That. "But you have to go," I say.

"You told your sister you weren't interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with me," he says. "And then you say you want to stay, and you kiss me like that, and..." He retreats a step and scrapes a hand over his face. "I don't know what to think."

I see the hurt in his russet eyes. I didn't expect that information to make it to Misha—at least not so quickly.

"Is it because of your baker's son or because I'm fae or—"

"No." My sinuses burn with the tears I won't let free. "None of that."

"I know what Lark said, but she's not always right. I promise you she's wrong about this. I won't break your heart. Not when it's so precious to me." He clasps my hand in his and brings it to his chest. "I'm not just a king looking for a queen. I'm a male who's found himself falling for the last person he expected. I know it's scary. If I'm terrified, I can't imagine how you must feel but... Give me a chance. Jasalyn, give this a chance."

Jasalyn.

Her name is the hammer that breaks my heart. Lark was wrong. Misha didn't break it. I did. And I have to leave. Not just because I'm running out of time, but because I couldn't live with myself if I hurt him.

"Go back to the ball." I touch my falling curls. "I'm going to go to my chambers and put myself back together."

"Is that a yes?" he asks, searching my face.

I press my hand against my chest as if I can hold my heart together with pressure alone. "If you still want me after tonight, then perhaps..." I know I can't hold a smile, so I let it shake, let my fear shine through. "Then perhaps tomorrow I will try to convince myself a male like you could truly want a girl like me."

"You have no idea how much." He skims trembling fingertips down the side of my neck, then tucks his hands into his pockets and turns back toward the castle and the party.

Goodbye, Misha. I'll miss you.

I don't dare say the words out loud, but he turns toward me, a question on his face as if maybe the thought found its way to him.

Then don't make me wait long, Princess.

The words are as clear as day—as if he spoke them aloud—but I know he spoke them into my mind. My heart races as I watch him heading back to his party, back to his guests.

How did that happen? Why did it feel so right ? And how do I make sure it never happens again?

I push my worries aside and rush back to my chambers. Leaning against my door, I press a palm to my chest, where it feels like a demon is trying to claw its way out.

How did I let this happen? How did I fall for a male who doesn't even know who I am? How did I let him fall for a lie?

I don't have much experience in the ways of romance, but I'm not so na?ve that I don't understand what's going to happen between me and Misha tonight if I go back to that party. I'll end the night in his room, or he in mine, and having to walk away after that might break me forever.

But even if I could handle it? I can't risk spending the night with him—or even a single dance—if he's suddenly hearing my thoughts. If my shields no longer work on him and he sees the web of deceit I've drawn him into, I won't have the chance to wait until tomorrow to search for the portal.

I need to end this all now. Tonight.