Chapter 25

25

R hi

The food in front of me has more spice, more flavor, more depth than any food I’ve ever tasted in my life. It awakens every taste bud on my tongue and has my stomach rumbling and yet I pick at my food.

None of this makes sense, and this feast is simply delaying my opportunity to ask all the questions burning inside me, delaying my chance to finally, maybe, receive some damn answers. Unfortunately, those answers don’t seem like they’re coming any time soon because as soon as all the dishes of food are emptied, those meek servers appear and the plates are cleared. Then as if by magic – heck most probably with magic – the long tables vanish and an orchestra shuffles into the room, laden down with their instruments.

“Ahh, time for dancing,” the Black Prince says, taking a firm grip of my hand and leading me down to the heart of this great ballroom, the many magicals stepping aside to let us pass. At the center of the room, he halts.

“Loyal subjects,” he says, addressing his assembled audience once more as he squeezes my hand tightly. “Not only has fate returned the lost princess to us, fate has also rewarded our beloved princess with five fated ones.”

Almost immediately there’s a rush of excitement that seems to pass through the assembly – I can feel their magic bubbling with it, their eyes alight with it too. Much more excitement than seemed to be sparked by the announcement of my return.

I shuffle a little on my feet, wishing the Black Prince did not have such a tight grip of my hand so I could gnaw on my thumb. After my time at the academy, I should be used to people staring at me, whispering about me. Yet, I still find it unsettling, wishing all those eyes weren’t fixed on me.

“Five powerful magicals,” he continues, pointing to Azlan, Stone, Tristan, Spencer, and Renzo – all still sitting at the raised table. “Even the son of the republic’s Lord Protector himself.” There are several gasps, one or two amused chuckles. “And which one of these fated ones will you choose to dance with first, daughter?” he asks me.

Inwardly, I take a mighty big sigh of relief. I was half expecting him to dance with me himself, not something I felt entirely comfortable with when I’ve barely said two words to this man who is my estranged father. Or worse, I thought he might expect me to dance by myself for everyone to watch – like some sort of terrible anxiety nightmare. Not that dancing with one of my mates in front of all these people will be much better.

They must see the horror in my eyes because all five of them stand to their feet, offering their assistance .

“Perhaps, we could all dance,” I say with a hesitant smile, “all of us,” I add, signaling to the assembled magicals.

The Black Prince nods and then with another click of his fingers, the music starts and before I know it, there are magicals twirling in couples around me, their cloaks and skirts billowing and many faces flashing past me. My father is swallowed up by the crowd and I feel the press of bodies around me, arms and hands brushing against me.

My head spins. I feel dizzy, lost in a sea of people, a strange fear creeping up my throat, and then I’m scooped up into the arms of Tristan Kennedy.

“Okay, Piglet?” he asks, anxious green eyes sweeping all over my face.

I breathe. “I am now.”

He rewards me with one of his smiles – far more charming than my dad’s even. The kind of smile that had every girl at the academy dropping their panties. Several boys too if he’d given them a chance.

“I never did get an opportunity to dance with you at the Victory Ball and I was looking forward to it.”

“It’s probably just as well you didn’t. Summer freaking Clutton-Brock would have scratched my eyes out and yanked every hair from my head.”

“No, she wouldn’t have. You’d have blasted her to hell before she got a foot towards you. And maybe this time you’d actually have hit her,” he says, smile widening.

I shake my head. “I still don’t understand why she never told on me. She was so desperate to get me kicked out of the academy and that was her perfect opportunity.”

“She didn’t tell on you,” he says, spinning me around, his arms like a cocoon around me, “because I made sure she didn’t.”

I roll my eyes. “That girl would do anything for you, but still, she thought I was the one standing between the two of you and so–”

“She was jealous because she saw how much I wanted you – saw it long before anyone else did. In her twisted little world, she wanted us to be together and I knew she could hurt you because of it. And so I made her take the unbreakable vow. I stopped her from telling on you.”

“Oh,” I say, my feet coming to a stop. “You did that for me?”

He nods. “Anyway,” he says, the smile fading, “I guess in her eyes she ended up with a serious upgrade in the end – lost one Kennedy but ended up with the top one.”

I scoff. “Your dad’s an asshole. You’re a million times better than him, Tristan.”

“Sometimes I think I am – that my power could outmatch his.”

“I’m not talking magic,” I say, unaware now of all the magicals moving around us. “I mean in here,” I tap his chest, “you’re better than him because you’re kind – when you want to be.”

“I’m trying, Piglet. I’m trying to be a better person for you. Trying to unlearn all the fucked-up bullshit he taught me.”

“Don’t unlearn it all,” I say with half a smile of my own. “We may need it.”

“True,” he says, whispering in my ear, “I’d be as fucked up as Barone if it came to it, if I had to be.” He squeezes me to him as he says it as if scared I’ll be ripped away from him. But I’m not and I settle my head against his chest, let him hold me close as we sway together in the sea of people. Maybe it’s not the right way to dance – heck, maybe it might not be considered respectable. I don’t care.

I’m whisked right back to the Victory Ball, to how things could have been if we’d both accepted each other like fate wanted us to, if we’d allowed the attraction between us to grow, if we’d acknowledged how desperate our magic was to combine, if we’d relented.

“What’s wrong, Piglet?” he asks, sensing my sadness through the bond.

“Do you ever think about how things could have turned out if they’d gone differently?”

“You mean with your dad? You mean between your parents?”

“No, between us.”

He stops. “Every fucking minute of every day, Piglet.”

I look into those deeply green eyes of his and feel his sincerity, feel it deep inside me. I want to say more to him, but my dad’s hand lands on his shoulder and he’s being pulled away. I’m alone again, watching as the Black Prince demands his attention.

My mind’s a mess of emotions.

Because he’s right.

What if my mom had never taken me away? What if she stayed here with him? What if my aunt had never hidden me? What if he’d found me?

Is this what my life would have been like? Luxury. Beautiful dresses and gourmet food, servants and subjects and living in a palace.

I think of all those days of suffering, of fighting to stay alive, scrapping for food, racing to outrun those who wanted to harm us.

It could have been so different. All so different.

My head spins even more and that feeling crawls up my throat again so fast I can’t breathe.

I push my way through the tight-knit group of dancers, through the people gathered at the edges, past guards and servers with their bowed heads, out to the corridor and then on and on, going on instinct, crashing through the first door I find and then out into the night, the air cool and hitting my lungs with such relief I almost stumble to my knees.

The garden is quiet and still – blessed relief – except for one lone dragon – a golden-red one circling above.