Page 13 of Of Night and Blood: Special Edition

I looked down, eyeing the thick gold trousers and scratchy short sleeve tunic. I had originally planned to wear a long sleeve to hide the bruises on my arms, which were taking uncharacteristically long to fade, but my hideous gold cloak covered them well enough.

I too hated my clothes, but Xavier and Mia preferred we represent the color of the royal seal. To them, the color signified our love for our realm and separated us as royals. I understood the sentiment.

“I am pretty sure I will be buried beneath gilded dirt, Fair. But I do so appreciate the hatred for my wardrobe,” I teased, rolling my eyes at him. Farai was in all black, as he often was. Though his obsession with the color did not seem excessive, rather it was flattering, making the shade of his hair and eyes stand out in bold contrast.

Jasper huffed beside me. Nothing displeased him more than my attitude towards the rules that had been set in place for me. His belief was that I let them walk all over me, whereas I argued that there was no need for me to fuss over small things such as clothes. If it made the royals happy, then it was the least I could do after they had given me so much.

All three of them loathed my choice to submit. Of all those decisions I had agreed upon, it was Sterling that they most adamantly argued against. Concern from them had not been a surprise in the slightest, because they were all desperately in love. Their understanding of my situation, my life, only went so far.

“You look beautiful, as you always do. I think what Farai meant was that you deserve the chance to blossom on your own, to become who you want to be,” Jasper said, rubbing my back softly.

The three of them shared the same solemn and troubled expression, surrounding me with their pity. I knew why they worried. In fact, I appreciated their love for me. Nothing other than my absolute trust in that love would have helped me at the start of my relationship with Sterling, when I had been desperately attempting to form a connection.

He had seemed kind and intelligent, not to mention he was incredibly handsome. I had been willing to see past his young age and his shameless touching because of that. But behind my back he was cold and calculated, lustful and conceited, hateful and conniving. It did not warm him to my friends, and they were quick to inform me of their opinions.

After I confronted him, he was more direct about who he truly was. The mortal prince was all too glad to strip the façade, because he knew I would do whatever the royals said either way. And they were insisting upon our marriage.

I shook my head, fighting off the tears welling behind my eyes. I would not cry about that ridiculous child. He could be my king consort; I would not allow for that to mean anything other than someone at my side for show. Someone to supply armies and help us win the war that we all knew was coming. Someone to please Mia and Xavier. If forced, perhaps a youngling.

“Anyways, who was that dashing male you were dancing with at your ball? He was positively delicious,” Farai said, licking his lips. Jasper chuckled, slinging his arm around his husband and flicking his cheek. All three of them looked at me with wide smiles, Nicola not offering the slightest bit of assistance. One of them prodding me was enough, I did not need all three.

“No one I will ever see again,” I grumbled, my tone dripping annoyance. Such a pointlessly dangerous conversation. Jasper rolled his eyes, straightening his amber vest and matching trousers, the cream long-sleeved tunic smooth beneath. He possessed the kind of casual grace that sparked jealousy among males and females alike.

Farai on the other hand was a beautiful disaster, with his perfectly messed tunic and trousers, buttons askew and hair wild. He shook his head, as if my choice of words was incredibly irritating. Maybe to them it was. Because how could they understand what it is like to owe everything to someone the way I did to the royals?

“I need to go grab something from my chambers, I will be right back,” I said, jumping up and practically running from them. They all watched me, not remotely convinced. But I did not care, I needed to be alone.

With impressive speed, I rushed inside, prepared to hide away until the three of them came to retrieve me by force. My eyes frantically searched the hallways as I ran, my power tasting the air as well, praying to Eternity that I did not run into Sterling or the royals.

When I finally, thankfully, grabbed the handles to my doors, I yanked them open and closed them behind me with a sigh. I had still been searching the area, subconsciously looking for unwanted guests. So the other mind, all black shadows and fiery sunshine, alerted me to my visitor before his husky voice.

“Hello, Princess,” Bellamy said.

Chapter Eight

Bellamy laid sprawled out on my bed, hands behind his head and smile wide, as if he belonged there. Standing against my door, hand to my chest and breathing heavily, I was too startled to pretend he did not look as though he did.

“What are you doing here?” I hissed, thoughts racing at the many possibilities of awful ways this could end. Bellamy’s burnt head on a spike being one of the more horrid scenarios. Though not nearly as awful as watching him slump at my feet on a wooden stage.

His smile did not falter in the slightest as he sat up, his tight black tunic stretching over his arms and sending uncomfortably erotic images through my mind. As if he could hear my thoughts, Bellamy smirked, eyes alight with a wicked gleam that I needed no part of.

“I am here to bring you on an adventure,” he said with a casual shrug.

I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, to ask him how he could not see the danger, to push him out the window because it would be a cleaner and safer death. Instead, I remained standing, the same baffled look still on my face.

I needed to tell him to leave, to panic or run or yell, something.

“How did you get in here?” I asked instead. He quirked a brow, clearly amused by my reaction. His scent floated in the air, and I realized that I would be doomed if anyone came in here today, because the smell alone would be telling.

The Fire was uninterested in the growing danger, far more intrigued by me if the way his eyes stayed trained on my own was any indication. His mind was strange, like a canvas that had been painted a solid color. There was no dimension to it, not like there had been the other night.

“Desperation can get you anywhere,” he said as he stood, then began walking my way.

His steps towards me were not quick, but rather slow and calculated, as if behind that relaxed and confident exterior was a male who feared my rejection. I could taste it slightly, the chilly nerves that radiated from him despite that solid canvas.

“I do not know what that means, but you need to leave, now. It is not safe for you to be here,” I said just as he made the final step and closed the distance between us, our bodies nearly touching. Foolish, that was what being next to him like this was. Foolish and dangerous and so, so intoxicating.

“Careful, Princess, I am beginning to think you do not want me here,” he said, gesturing behind him to my room. A part of me ignited at his words, his insinuation. I could not fight off the many ways I did want him here from flashing through my head. Hypocritical of me to say the least.

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