“If I had to guess,” I said, “This arrangement here looks a lot like our positions in the selection.”

  “Smart girl,” Melina said.

  “Which means, you also failed… with the All Seers, I mean.”

  “Failed is a strong word. I would say I got a little overwhelmed. I heard you got stabbed, though.”

  Mentioning it made my stomach hurt, right where the phantom blade had pierced my abdomen. I winced; I couldn’t help it. It was a sharp, quick pain that bloomed, then faded… but not before it left me feeling nauseated—as if I needed more of that right now.

  “A little bit,” I said, grabbing hold of the table to help ground myself.

  “I’ve heard what they say about those mirrors. I heard about what happened after you got stabbed, too. You went right to the brink.”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “News travels. Royal Selection is all anyone talks about around here. It’s infuriating.”

  “Infuriating?”

  “I’m already in it, but do I really have to hear about it all day long, too?”

  “Well, if you hate it so much, why are you here?”

  She shrugged. “Same reason as you. Fate brought me here.”

  “I don’t believe in fate.”

  “Then you’re missing out.”

  Tellren cleared his throat again, reminding me that he was there, and reminding everyone else that he had witnessed the battle royale that had just broken out a moment ago. “Introducing, his highness, Prince Cillian Wolfsbane,” he yelled, his high-pitched voice rattling my already shaken brain.

  I shut my eyes against the noise, and when I opened them again… there he was.

  The Prince.

  He strode into the room wearing a black waistcoat over a white shirt; most of his thick, dark hair held in a top-knot, the rest falling by his shoulders. He had broadsword attached to his belt that clanked by his side as he walked into the room to stand beside Tellren. His eyes, clear and bright, surveyed the room from where he stood, starting at the top of the table and making their way down…

  … to me.

  I stared at him, daring this time to meet his gaze and hold it. Warmth flushed into my cheeks, radiating out of my chest. I wasn’t sure if it was him or the alcohol, but I didn’t have time to stop and figure it out. He was here, he was looking at me, and that was already doing way more things to my body than I thought it was capable of handling right now.

  Please move, I thought, please move. Go away. Go to your chair. Please, please, please—oh Gods, no, don’t come any closer to me. What the hell are you doing? No, don’t try to take my hand! Why are you—“Your high-hig-hic.”

  Fuck.

  I slapped my hand against my mouth, trying to stifle the hiccup, but it was too late. The damage had been done. The women around me were already giggling. Well, Mareen and her crew were. Aronia had a smirk on her face. Melina looked… surprised, and a little amused, but she didn’t seem like she was joining in the revelry going around the table like an infection.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said.

  “Not to worry,” the Prince said, “It could have happened to anybody.”

  But it happened to me, like it always did.

  He looked like he was about to start moving toward the head of the table, but he stopped, and looked at me again. “After breakfast,” he said, trailing off. “Accompany me for a walk?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you.”

  I was about to question him, maybe even object, but he’d already started moving toward his chair. Tellren was already waiting to pull it out for him. The Prince then sat down, and a moment later, the room flooded with servants carrying plates of food for us to eat.

  If I was lucky, I’d be able to soak some of the alcohol up with breakfast. If not, well, that walk of ours was probably going to be pretty short.

  Chapter 7

  Mareen was not happy. Honestly, I understood why. She’d probably feel better if I had the chance to tell her I absolutely didn’t want the Prince’s attention. Not right now. I was still drunk, I still had to pee, and I couldn’t eat fast enough to sober up because I was sitting at a table full of skinny supermodels who were barely touching their plates.

  Well, except for Aronia.

  I had to hand it to her; that woman knew how to eat. Her plate was covered in what looked like chicken, potatoes, and vegetables. They were little mountains of food, and with her fork and her knife, she was digging into them like a champion.

  It was impressive, to say the least. She didn’t give a damn what the other girls thought, and here I was, desperately eyeing up the bowl full of bread like it was a life-raft in an ocean. My stomach growled, I had to keep blinking just to focus my eyes on the plate in front of me, and there was no way I’d be able to excuse myself to find a bathroom anytime soon.

  The worst part was I knew—deep down I knew—that this was a trial just as much as any other. I couldn’t screw this up.

  I turned my eyes up at Mareen. While Aronia and the Prince were talking, she was glaring at me. I saw her nose flare, her eyes widen, and her lip curl. With her eyes fixed on mine, she picked up her knife, and aimed it at her neck; the message being, you’re dead.

  Really original, Mareen.

  I rolled my eyes and finally decided to reach for a piece of bread. I stared at it, hungrily. I was about to go in for a bite, when my rational mind somehow kicked in and reminded me, I was in the presence of the Prince.

  Carefully I set the piece of bread down on my plate. I then grabbed a knife and fork, I stabbed the bread with the fork, and cut a piece of it off with the knife. It looked as ridiculous as it felt. I’d never eaten bread like this before, but this seemed better than eating it with my hands.

  Melina nudged my shin with her foot, snatching my attention just as I was about to take my first bite out of something that could deal with the alcohol in my system. She had a look on her face like I’d just gotten up and started tapdancing for absolutely no reason. I looked down at my feet. Nope, still planted on the floor.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  I lowered the fork. “Eating. What are you doing?”

  “I’m eating. That’s not eating—that’s dissecting.”

  “Well, I didn’t ask for your opinion, so why… why don’t you go back to your meat or whatever it is you’re eating—actually, what is that on your plate? It looks yummy.”

  “Gods, you’re still drunk,” Melina hissed.

  “Drunk? I’m not drunk. You’re drunk.” I shook my head. “But wow, that wine really does pack a punch, doesn’t it?”

  Melina scanned the table, then looked at me again. “Eat that bread,” she said, “Stuff it down your throat, right now.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do; you’re not my mothers.”

  “Mothers? What?” Melina groaned. “They’re not looking at you right now. Eat.”

  I glanced down the table, confirming the intelligence I’d just received. The Prince was talking about some conquest or other, some fight he’d had with some giant—I wasn’t sure, I could barely hear him from all the way back here.

  “Now’s your chance,” Gullie whispered against my ear.

  “You need to be quiet,” I said, “Or they’ll hear you.”

  Melina frowned. “I need to be quiet?”

  I waved a hand. “No, not you. You’re fine.”

  Scanning the table once more, I reached for the bread on my plate and ate huge chunks of it with my bare hands. When the bread was gone, I plucked a couple of pieces of meat from the silver platter on the table in front of me and started wolfing them down, stuffing my mouth and chewing like my life depended on it.

  Stuff, chew, swallow. Stuff, chew, swallow—beat the alcohol, fight it back. I didn’t have much of a chance to savor what I was eating, but like the rest of the fae food I had sampled since I’d been here, it was delicious. Rich in flavor, easy to eat, and surprisingly, not all of it was frozen. Some of it was cold, sure, but they liked their hot food too.

  And their pastries and pies… I wanted to take some back to mother Pepper, to show her what she was missing out here. Thinking about her brought my spirits up at first, but it put me on a bit of a downer as I continued to eat. By the time the Prince had finished telling his story, I had eaten a full plate of food and was already starting to feel a little better.

  A little more human.

  Sighing, I settled back into my chair. “Okay, that was delicious,” I said, keeping my voice low.

  “Really?” Melina asked, “I couldn’t tell.”

  “Don’t you shame me for eating, too.”

  “Not at all. I’m eating, aren’t I?”

  “True…” I narrowed my eyes, “But we’ve already established you aren’t like them either. What I still don’t know is how different?”

  Melina shrugged. “I wasn’t born rich.”

  “What?”

  “Did you think the Royal Selection was exclusive to rich fae and those of high station? You’re looking at an honest-to-the-fates butcher’s daughter; low class rabble, and a bastard to boot.”

  “A bastard?”

  “I don’t know my father, and neither does my mother. My mother is the butcher, just in case that wasn’t clear.”

  “I’m sorry…”

  “Don’t be. It doesn’t bother me.”

  I paused. “I still don’t understand. If you don’t know your father, and you are… I hate saying it, but low class. How did you even know you were supposed to come here? I mean, you must’ve known, right? So, you could train?”

  Melina frowned, the glowing tattoo on her forehead dimming a little. “My… mother knew. Almost as soon as I was born. The fates made it clear to her that I would be taking part in this competition. Didn’t your mother know?”

  I watched her from across the table, my vision still swimming a little, my heart hammering inside of my chest. “I didn’t know my mother,” I said. “Or my father.”

  “Neither of them? Tough break…”

  I looked at my plate, because I was having trouble focusing my attention on Melina without her wobbling a little too much for my liking. I was about to ask another question, when movement at the head of the table stole my attention. The Prince had just stood up, having finished his breakfast. He turned his eyes on me, but before he could, Mareen stood as well.

  “Would his highness give me the honor of taking a stroll along the grounds?” she asked.

  The Prince turned to look at her, took her hand in his, and lightly kissed her knuckles. Insanely, watching that play out made my cheeks burst with angry heat that I absolutely didn’t appreciate. I was reminded of what I’d felt before the Prince’s reflection stabbed my… reflection.

  Jealousy.

  I was jealous of my own mirror image because she was about to be kissed. How crazy did you have to be for something like that to have an effect on you? And how crazy was I that I was starting to feel the exact same thing right now. Was I really jealous of that rich bitch, Mareen? I should get up and say something. I should—before I knew it, I was on my feet, staring at them both.

  The entire table turned to look at me, the eyes of seven other fae women and the Prince of the realm fixed on my humble self. I hadn’t been able to stop myself from shooting upright like this, but now that I was here, I also didn’t know what in the world to say, except…

  “I believe his highness asked me, first?” I asked.

  The Prince straightened out, released Mareen’s hand, and stared at me. “He did,” the Prince said, “His highness can also speak for himself.”

  I bowed as best I could, considering I was still stuck between the chair and the table. “My apologies. It would be my privilege to take that walk with you now.”

  Mareen’s eyes were daggers. If her looks had the power to kill, I would’ve been a bloody mess on the floor by now. Her entourage were appalled that I’d had the guts to speak at all, and the others were stunned that the Prince had even chosen me to go for a walk with first. Melina, however, had a smirk on her face, and Aronia simply picked up another piece of meat with her fork and went back to eating.

  And nobody dared say a bad word about her.

  The Prince walked around the table, pulled my chair back, and with a slight bow, extended his hand. “Dahlia,” he said, “Would you come with me?”

  Don’t say anything stupid.

  Don’t say anything stupid.

  Don’t say anything stupid.

  I took his hand and, much to my relief, I simply said, “Yes.”

  With a slight smile, Prince Cillian stood upright again and walked me toward the door leading back into the main villa. He offered his arm for me to loop mine through. I did that, and together we walked through the corridor, with Tellren opening doors for us until we reached a balcony on the upper level.

  That was where Tellren took his leave.

  The Prince and I walked to the edge of the balcony. It was long, running across the entire length of this level of the palace. From here, we had commanding views of the mountains in the distance, fingers of ice curling over their peaks. Of the city below us, gleaming like an island of diamonds. Of the rest of the castle, standing strong, and mighty—a bulwark against the cold.

  All was white, and shades of blue, and green; the only negative was the way the winter chill bit at the nose, and cheeks, and ears.

  “It’s beautiful up here,” I said, pulling the hood of my fur cloak up and around my head.

  The Prince turned his clear, sky-blue eyes on me, that half-a-smile still playing on his lips. “It is…” he said, “Beautiful, I mean. I often come here simply to walk, watch the city beneath me, gaze across the mountains.”

  “Why do I find that hard to believe?”

  “You doubt my words?”

  “You are the Prince of this city… I find it hard to believe a man with your level of responsibility has enough time to simply go for a walk.”

  “We are walking now, are we not?”

  “Yes, but this is… work.”

  “Is it?”

  “Isn’t it? I mean, it’s not a date.”

  “Would you prefer if this were date?”

  “Is that even allowed?”

  “I think, in the context of the Royal Selection, this is as close as we’ll get to a… date.”

  I sighed. “Shame.”

  He frowned. “A shame?”

  “Oh, yeah. A shame for you, I mean.”

  “For me…” he trailed off.

  “Absolutely. If anyone knows how to pull off a fantastic date, it’s me.”

  “That’s a lie,” Gullie whispered.

  “I mean, I would blow your mind.”

  “Another lie.”

  “Would you?” the Prince asked, “And how would you do that?”

  “Good food, a good movie, maybe a couple of drinks,” I said.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Gullie asked.

  “That sounds interesting,” said the Prince, “I have never had the time to stop and watch a movie during my trips to Earth, even if they do fascinate me.”

  “Too bad you picked me to take out first,” I said, “If we’d gone last, I may have had time to put a few things together.”

  The Prince paused. “Perhaps we can save that for our next date.”

  “My Prince—” I said, feigning surprise, “We have barely finished this little rendezvous, and you’re already thinking about our next? What will the other girls think?”

  “Who are you?” Gullie asked. I could hear the confusion in her voice, but I ignored it.

  I was a drunk person. Or, at least, a less drunk person. I had gone from gabby drunk, to confident drunk, and I planned on riding this high for as long as I could, because it looked to me like I was making an impression on him, and that was something.

  Especially considering this was a trial.

  Chapter 8

  The view from the palace balcony was stunning, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Prince Cillian. He had a kind of gravity to him, a magnetism that drew me towards him even though every fiber of my being screamed for me to back up. Keep my distance. When I wasn’t near him, the thought of keeping away from him seemed easy enough. But now that he was here, I was having to fight against myself, and I was losing.

  It wasn’t simply that he was an attractive man. There were many, many men in this world and mine that were attractive. It also wasn’t that he was rich, or that he was a Prince. I wasn’t the kind of person to care about money, and the last thing I wanted was a royal title.

  No.

  The thing that pulled me to him was ethereal. Hidden. Ghostly. Something intangible; something you couldn’t press your finger down on, or point your finger at, and go, ah, that’s it. Walking alone with him along the palace balcony, with my arm linked in his, I felt… safe. Like nothing could hurt me.

  And that terrified me.

  How was it that this man, this stranger and former kidnapper, made me feel safe? Was this Stockholm Syndrome kicking in? Had the kidnapping crossed the wires in my brain and made me see up as down? Or was there something else at work here; something I had absolutely no control over.

  Something he had no control over, either.

  Prince Cillian and I walked in silence a little way around the balcony. Every so often, he would point out a landmark somewhere in the city below. The Merchant Square. The Royal Cathedral. The Ancient Glade. The city was abuzz with activity and life, and from up here, you could see it all. It really was a sight to behold. But the thing that immediately caught my eye was the storm brewing just past the mountains.

  It was a grey bruise on an otherwise clear, black sky. Streaks of red-violet lightning tore through it, illuminating some patches of cloud and darkening others. Seeing the sky churn, the flash of light, it took me back to the forest, to the trial where Aronia was hurt, to the Wenlow.

  “That storm,” I said.