Chapter 33

S omeone sits down next to me, but I'm too embarrassed to look their way. Gods know what a mess I am, having spent a solid ten minutes crying. Even though there are no tears left to shed, I hide my face in the crook of my arm. It's like all of the liquid escaped from my body, leaving behind only an empty well of sadness. I fear that if I reach too far down, it might just swallow me whole.

"Tough night?" The man whispers, and my whole body stiffens. That voice, all warmth and charm, wraps around me like a blanket, warming me from the inside out. I look over and see that he's still wearing the silver mask from earlier.

"You could say that." I swipe my finger across my lower lashes to remove any smeared charcoal. It's a futile effort, but I do it again and again.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks, and for a moment I consider letting it all out, unburdening all of my worries, grief, and mistakes on this stranger. Though I only just met him, I know in my heart that he would listen and never tell a soul.

"No, thank you." The last thing I want to do is to speak to anyone else tonight - anyone but Guylita - but for some reason, I don't mind him being here. Somehow, the mere proximity to him puts me at ease. Gods, who is this man?

We sit in silence for a couple of minutes until I work up the courage to ask, "Why did you storm out of the room?"

"You noticed?" A note of humored surprise strikes in his question.

I nod.

The admission wracks through me. I did notice. But why?

"Well, Radya." He pauses. "Would you like the truth?"

I nod again.

"When Queen Eleanor announced that you plan to marry Prince Allwyn, I couldn't stand it." He's staring at me through the tiny slits in the mask, and I wish more than anything that he would remove it. I want to see his face. I want to know why this stranger seems to care so much when everyone else cares so little.

Sure, people have been clamoring to speak to me, but they don't care. Not about me, at least. This feels different. More real. Like a pulsing connection exists between us that lights up when he's nearby.

"Why would that bother you?" I ask as he glances at my hands.

"Don't ask questions that you're not ready to hear the answer to." He reaches his hand out and places it on mine, and I freeze.

If anyone saw me out here, cozying up to a man who is very clearly not their prince, then I would have hell to pay. Gods, if the invisibles were to catch me here…

I know that I should pull away, but I want to hold on for another second. Another minute. Hell, I could touch his hands for the rest of my life if it continued to make me feel like this. His leather gloves shift as he squeezes my hand. "Don't go through with it, please. Give me more time."

"What do you mean?" I look into his eyes, searching for an answer. They're a deep shade of blue. Looking into them, hidden as they may be, feels like drowning in a blissful sea.

"Don't marry him." His words come out as both a command and a plea.

"Who are you?" I know that his name is Bas, but that is all I know. How could a stranger expect me to abandon Olly and this arrangement after just a few minutes together?

He inches closer, so close that I see the ocean swelling in his eyes, calling me deeper. "Come with me."

Uneasiness settles into my bones. Not because he's being so forward. I worry because I want to say yes. Every fiber of my being wants to go with him. What does that say about me?

His attention shifts to something behind my shoulder. Disappointment fills the light that flickered there only a moment ago as he nods to someone or something in the distance. "I'm terribly sorry, but I have to go now."

He stands before I can respond and swiftly departs down the stairs to the garden. When he reaches the bottom step, he stops. With his body still facing ahead, he looks over his shoulder. "Will you do it? Will you wait for me?"

My heart shatters into a million pieces as I whisper, "No."

He tenses for a moment as if he's considering saying something else. But then he carries on, taking some small piece of me with him.

I watch as the dirt kicks up in his wake, leaving only the cloud of midnight dust to replace the space where the stranger named Bas just stood.