Chapter 57

57

Cassius

The song reached its crescendo, and I did my part, whisking Lady Marbury across the dance floor. Our movements mirrored the intensity and passion of the music, yet I felt neither.

I should've been captivated by the woman looking up at me. By every assessment, she was perfect. Beautiful. Poised. Well-mannered. A clever tongue to match her clever mind. I should be enraptured, hanging on her every word and subtle gesture, but I could barely focus.

My thoughts and gaze wandered through the room as we danced. Countless others watched as I led her in a series of turns—the men intrigued, the women waiting their turn to sink their claws into me.

The song ended and Lady Marbury looked coyly up at me. "You are quite the dancer, my prince. I'm afraid I came ill prepared."

Her voice was breathless and inviting, and I had no doubt she'd practiced the line a dozen times. Her fingers traced provocatively along my arm, not with desire but rather precision. She fluttered her eyes, trying to lure me in. She was a hunter, just like all the others.

Like me, and I respected it.

I pressed a kiss to her hand, my actions equally rehearsed. "Nonsense. You are perfect."

And it was true. There was no flaw in her. The flaw was in me and had always been.

The orchestra launched into another song, and the queue of noblewomen pushed forward like hungry vultures.

As if raising a shield against them, I lifted her hand in invitation. "I know I shouldn't be fixated on one woman so early in the night, but you're irresistible. Might I have another dance?"

Her expression flickered in triumph. "Of course, Your Highness. I would be delighted."

Couples swarmed the floor around us, their ridiculous outfits and masks doing little to conceal their true identities. Arrogant, conniving lords and ladies scrabbling to dip their golden-clad fingers into the royal coffers. Everyone's attention was on us—prospective queens, Aamon, the Triad.

Gazing down into Marbury's pleasant emerald eyes as we danced, I knew I would never—could never—love her. By the old woman's warning, that made her the perfect choice for a queen.

The beautiful lady spoke, and I responded, though our conversation was mechanical. I hardly registered the words. I doted on her, playing the part of a besotted idiot, little more than a marionette.

And then, something in the air changed.

The hair on my neck rose, and my senses flared. The woman in my arms became crystal clear, my attention sharp and drilled into the moment.

Something's wrong.

I scanned the room, no longer pretending to partake in conversation, my attention rapt.

There was a flash of color, and then it was gone. I dipped Marbury as I followed the dance, searching the crowd as we spun away. What was it?

Then I saw her—a woman drifting behind the sea of faces, drawing my attention like a siren luring a sailor. She was draped in a blue gown that skimmed her soft curves, the silver embroidery along her bodice shimmering in the candlelight. Her mask was unlike any I'd ever seen, a whimsical masterpiece of flowers and foliage that added to her devasting allure.

She was magnetic, pulling me like a burning beacon, and an impossible inkling gripped me. The wheeling dance brought us within a few yards of her, and the woman glanced my way. For a second, I saw a flash of lavender eyes and caught her tantalizing scent, hidden beneath perfume. Realization snapped through me like lightning, searing me from the inside out.

Then she was gone, lost among the churn as the dance carried on.

It couldn't be. Not her. Not here.

Marbury gasped as I spun her away, now moving against the current of the dance. I had to see. I had to be certain. I searched wildly, ignoring Marbury's protestations.

Even with the mask, I knew it was Ella. I could sense her with every inch of my flesh. The sweet scent of her skin, the taste of her blood, the drum of her heart, the short, rapid breaths slipping past those full lips…her presence thundered over the din of the room.

Then she was there again, standing at the edge of the crowd like a vision, one foot on the dance floor as if she were going to stride right out.

The song wasn't over, but I stopped in my tracks as the rest of the world spun by.

"What's wrong, my prince?" Concern flickered in Lady Marbury's eyes as some of the dancers stared at us.

"I'm sorry, but there's a problem I must attend to. We shall dance again later." I tugged her toward the edge of the dance floor and passed her off to Aamon in one quick movement.

"What the hell?" Aamon protested, but I was already stalking toward Ella. She was exposed and out of place.

I took her by the wrist and stepped close. "You need to leave."

Her lavender eyes flared behind the mask, and the delicate blue flowers outlining the eye holes only made them more mysterious and captivating. "Not until we talk."

Fucking hell. Everyone was watching. And listening.

I grabbed her waist and pulled her onto the dance floor, slipping into the throng of dancers.

"What are you doing?" Ella blurted, looking around wildly as the orchestra began a new song.

"Dancing, like everyone else," I growled, her lilies and rain scent igniting something deep and primal in me. "Now talk."

If she was going to dress the part, then she would play it.

She winced as she stepped on my foot, her body stiff and lacking any sense of rhythm. "I don't know how to dance!"

Impatience burned through me. "I can tell. Let me lead." I spun her around before tilting her in a low dip, my gaze level with her breasts. Blood pumping. Fear rising. A sheen of sweat feathering the plump curves of bare skin. "Couldn't this have waited?"

"Obviously not," she seethed as I lifted her, pulling her toward me until her chest was flush against mine.

She stepped on me twice more before the tension in her finally eased up, and she let me guide her across the crowded floor. I glanced over my shoulder. Aamon was dancing with Lady Marbury, whispering in her ear as he glared at me over her shoulder, hopefully repairing the damage I'd just done in spurning my future queen in front of the entire court.

His expression drew taut. Did he have any idea who was in my arms?

Taking Ella's waist, I lifted her into the air, mirroring the movements of the other dancers but subtly moving us away from him and my potential bride.

Her lips parted on a silent gasp, revealing the ivory tips of fangs.

I set her down. "False teeth? Are you serious?"

She bit her lower lip, the action exposing the tip of one ivory fang pressing dangerously into the rosy flesh. It shouldn't have been tantalizing, but it was. The vision of Ella with fangs sent heat straight to my cock.

I twirled her away, then pulled her back. "What in the name of all the gods did you hope to gain by this ruse?"

"I didn't have a choice. You're in danger!" She arched into me, her arms looping around my neck.

My breath caught as desire pulsed through me. The power the little vixen had over me was unnerving.

"No, my darling, you're the one who's in danger." I peeled her off me and guided her in a series of sweeping turns before pulling her back. "The Triad has been asking about you. We have to get you out of here before they unmask you and?—"

"I don't have much time so shut up and listen," she snapped, anger flushing her cheeks. Her eyes darted like a caged animal's, terrified and ready to fight. "There's going to be an attempt on your life tonight. You need to leave the ball, now ."

The intensity of her words lanced through me like a white-hot iron.

She was telling the truth, or at least what she believed to be the truth. I could see it in her eyes and feel it in her racing heartbeat. "You're serious…"

"Yes."

"Who?"

I had a dozen rivals, but the immortal who thought they could take me on was about to learn a very dark lesson.

Ella shook her head. "People who don't know the truth and think that removing you will solve all our problems."

"How do you know?" I asked, unable to steal my gaze from her perfect mouth. "Are these the same people you've been funneling information to?"

Her breath hitched, and she tripped over my feet. Her look betrayed everything, and my mood became dark.

"I knew you were a spy, but tell me, Cinderella , was everything a lie?"

"It's not what you think! I didn't know this was happening until I overheard it a few hours ago, but I can assure you, this is real, and you must leave immediately." She leaned closer, the urgency in her voice and the panic in her eyes sending a cascade of alarm signals through me. "The assassins are posed as servants. They're already here, and they're armed."

Humans? Did they really think they stood a chance?

"Impossible," I muttered.

"I need you to trust me," Ella whispered, the urgency in her voice on the verge of panic. "We can fix this."

The song had ended, and another began, but my attention was solely on her and the madness she was spewing.

Could I trust her? The Fates knew I shouldn't.

I scanned the room, reevaluating every face, immortal and human alike.

"Please, don't take revenge on my people. They're just desperate for hope." Her lavender eyes had deepened, the pale streaks of blue and red in them a chaotic frenzy, like oil paint splashed across a canvas. "I'm warning you because I believe in you. Because I know you're different."

"You know nothing," I snarled.

Ella's body tensed, her gaze locked on something beside us. Before I could turn, she threw her weight against me, catching me off guard and mid-step.

A dark shape whizzed through the space I'd just occupied, grazing Ella's shoulder.

The crossbow bolt ripped through the throat of the lord dancing beside us, and blood splattered against my cheek. The woman in his arms screamed as he gurgled, then tumbled to the ground. The clockwork of the dance collapsed into chaos.

Within the span of two heartbeats, I'd identified my attacker on the far side of the dance floor, dressed in servant's attire and loading a second quarrel into a small hand crossbow.

In one more beat, I crossed the distance and grabbed his throat. I rammed my fist into his chest, shattering bones and tearing skin, then yanked out his beating heart and dropped his twitching body to the floor.

His blood painted the marble.

My gaze locked on Ella, her masked face etched in horror as she saw me for what I really was—a murderous monster. Her sleeve was torn, blood dampening the scraped flesh of her shoulder, tempting me like some sweet, forbidden elixir, yet driving me into a rage.

The orchestra was still playing, and although the screams and shouts were rising, half the revelers still hadn't noticed.

Movement to my right.

I spun as a pair of servants lunged forward from the opposite side, twin blades plunging toward my heart. I ducked back and seized the hand of one of my assailants, then drove his knife into the eye of his friend.

The blinded man screamed and stumbled back, straight into the arms of Aamon. My friend grabbed the assassin by the chin and ripped his head off, sending a torrent of blood spraying across the rabid crowd.

I impaled the man in my arms on his own blade, ripping him across the belly and letting his viscera spill onto the floor.

The scent of fresh blood spread through the air, pungent and intoxicating. It took only another breath for the ballroom to descend into pandemonium, lords and ladies of the noblest houses morphing into their basest forms, hungry and blood-crazed and senseless. They turned on the remaining servants in the room, plucking them from the crush of bodies like ears of corn.

Fear coursed through me as I searched for Ella. She was isolated on the dance floor, spinning around, her face pale with terror as the bloody scene unfolded before her eyes. Her gaze caught mine, and she screamed, "Save the servants!"

I only cared about her, yet I leapt onto the platform where the orchestra had been set up, abandoned instruments now strewn hastily across the stage. "Stop!" I roared, projecting the full weight of my power into my voice.

It ripped through the crowd like a wave, and the violence halted. Utter silence crashed over the room, save for the shrieks of fleeing servants.

"Not another human dies," I growled. "And I will eviscerate the first person to defy me." Every immortal hung on my words. Marionette or not, I was not without power. Our line ruled for a reason.

The sheer curtain on the balcony above wrenched open, revealing the Triad—demons that watched over us in the place of angels. Horace strode forward, Thalindra at his side. His eyes scanned the room and settled on Ella, and he pointed at her. "Seize that woman! She tried to kill the prince!"

My blood iced, protective rage a wildfire in my blood. I wouldn't let them have her.

Aamon and the royal guard shoved forward, circling Ella like wolves closing in on a trapped deer. She looked around wildly, her panicked gaze catching mine.

"Stop!" I roared.

Horace's face went livid. "The prince has been deceived. She's an assassin. Take her now!"

Fuck him. I rushed forward, no thought in mind for what I was doing, only that I had to protect her.

She backed away and spun toward the window. "Help me!"

Her voice lanced through my heart, but to my surprise, it wasn't me she was calling to. I followed her gaze to the windows above.

There was an explosion of glass, followed by the woosh of what sounded like hundreds of beating wings. Broken glass cascaded from above, bouncing across the marble floor in a deafening peal.

I stopped short, my boots skidding on glass shards, as I stared up at the gaping hole in the towering windows. A billowing murder of crows descended upon the ballroom, a black thunderstorm, shrieking and cawing like banshees.

They circled Ella as a funnel cloud, swooping down and attacking anyone who drew near her. Immortals plunged to the floor as dozens of birds descended on them, pecking and clawing at the faces of anyone foolish enough to approach.

I froze, my limbs feeling like solid steel. What was happening?

"She's a whisperer!" Thalindra's voice rose above the discord. "A witch!"

She couldn't be.

Memories rose like steam from the sun-scorched earth after a hard rain. Ella's uncanny abilities with animals. The times I'd caught her speaking to herself in the forest or the stables. The way she'd nurtured my garden back to health.

Thalindra was right, and I was a godsdamned fool for not seeing it before. I'd fallen into her trap.

What would you do if you discovered a mortal with magic? Ella had asked me once.

I caught sight of her behind the storm of wings, regret and sadness filling her eyes. Then she turned and ran, the crows driving a path through the crowd. Her mask and its veil of leaves had been torn free in the chaos, and her hair cascaded down her back in loose waves like flashes of moonlight.

"Kill her now, you idiots!" Thalindra shrieked. "She's escaping!"

My sentries took up the cry and sprang forward.

Fucking meddling mages.

I grabbed Cassandra as she hurried toward me. "Take the royal guard and get the Triad to safety. There may be assassins coming for them."

Hopefully, the confusion would waylay both the guards and Triad and buy Ella some time.

Before Cassandra could respond, I flung myself across the stage and charged after Aamon. He'd made it out of the ballroom and down the great hall before I seized him. "Do not touch her!"

Aamon spun on me, grasping my jacket, and shoved me back. "She's trying to kill you!"

Anger scorched through me, searing my patience and pushing me past the brink of violence. I threw Aamon into the wall, plaster falling as I strode forward and gripped him by the throat. "She warned me, you asshole. She's the reason I still have my head."

"I watched her maneuver you and shove you right into position. It's a miracle you don't have a crossbow bolt in your neck." He bared his fangs as he pushed back against me. "She's a witch . This was her plan , and I won't stand by while she plays you."

Could it be?

The lying. The fake name. The spying. Hell, the hidden powers.

I fought against the notion even as the hairline cracks of doubt spread through my chest, splintering into aching fissures.

Aamon gripped my shoulder, the fire in his tone replaced with something bordering on remorse. "The rumors I've dug up say the leader of the resistance was once married to a silver-haired woman."

My voice scraped over my throat like sandpaper. "And what happened to him?"

"No one knows."

I'd asked her once about her father. He disappeared , she'd said.

I'd suspected she was working for them, but had she been more? What was I to believe?

I released my stalwart friend, and he met my eyes. "What is your command, my lord?"

I cast off my mask as I strode toward the door. "Get Cassandra and make sure no one else leaves or dies. I'm going to hunt Ella down. Alone."

The beautiful siren would answer to me, one way or another, before the night was through—but it would be my judgement, and mine alone.