Page 23 of The Midnight King

I lean closer, smiling, and say in a vicious undertone, “If you announce me like that again, I’ll take that bugle and shove it so far down your throat it comes out your ass.”

The herald clears his throat. “Understood, my lady.”

“Excellent. We’re going to be great friends, you and I.” I pat his shoulder and turn away, sailing farther into the room.

Tonight, thanks to the Faerie treat I enjoyed, I’m a little more comfortable with all the eyes staring at me. The golden gown turns every head, including that of the Prince, who hurries over as soon as I enter.

“There you are,” he says. “I was disappointed not to see you again last night.”

“I’m sure my sister was excellent company,” I reply.

“She was,” he admits. “But I prefer you. I like people who listen as if I’m not boring them to death. People who ask intelligent questions.”

I like him too. He seems like a kind person, and he’s certainly brilliant. With his propensity for long one-sided conversations, I’m not sure how well the throne will suit him, but if he surrounds himself with the right people, he should be able to govern well.

Except for the fact that I’m sacrificing him to save myself. Essentially I’m betraying an entire kingdom, yielding them to my stepmother’s will, just to set myself free.

What kind of person does that?

I don’t want to be forced into such a diabolical decision, so it’s imperative that I figure out how to disable the anklet myself. If I can do that—if I can remove it and possibly destroy it—then neither the Prince nor I will have to live under the command of my stepmother.

The Prince is looking at me expectantly, holding out his hand. I take it and move into the dance with him. “Tell me about your family,” I say quickly, before he can start the conversation. “Tell me about your father.”

Brantley’s handsome face brightens, and for a moment I see his father’s beauty in him. The topic of his father pleases him, and I’m gratified to see that their relationship is a good one.

“My father is a great leader,” Brantley says. “He knows so much about all the countries of this entire world, and he has studied what we know about the Further Realms as well. We’ve had many long discussions about realm theory.”

Unfortunately, he veers off the topic of the King into the idea of cosmic complexity, mirrored realms, the Void, and interplanetary pathways. On a normal evening I might follow him down that path with interest, but tonight I have other priorities, so when our first dance ends and I spot Amisa lingering nearby, I motion for her to approach.

“This is my other sister, Amisa,” I say. “She is also interested in realm theory.” I stare hard at Amisa and give her a firm nod.

To her credit, she musters enough enthusiasm to be mostly convincing. “Oh yes, realm theory. I love… realms. Which is your favorite realm?”

This odd question distracts the Prince enough that I’m able to move away through the crowd, but there are more eyes on me tonight. The Prince has shown a marked interest in me twice, and that puts a target on my back.

I traverse the rooms of the palace’s main floor, walking slowly so I don’t draw additional interest. I don’t want people wondering why I’m in a hurry, or following me where I want to go.

There are people in the library corridor, so I have to circle through other hallways and loop back a few times before I finally find it empty. Without hesitation I dodge through the library doors and close them quietly behind me.

The library is low-lit again, partly by moonlight and partly by the golden lamps. It appears empty at first glance, but I know the King could be lurking anywhere—if he shows up at all. He’s a busy man, and he might have things to do besides me. Or he might have lost interest in me after I ran off so quickly.

The skirts of my gown are more voluminous tonight, and I hold them in both hands as I walk along the rows of bookshelves, peering down each aisle, peeking into the alcoves. The farther I go, the lower my heart sinks.

When the King steps out abruptly from the shadow of a bookcase, I scream a little.

He chuckles, deep and rich and reassuring. “Forgive me.”

For a second I’m wordless, captivated by the wolfish beauty of him… that magnificent jawline cloaked in dark scruff, those icy eyes, and the wild mane of silver hair. He’s wearing a navy suit tonight, embroidered with silver thread, and it makes him look even more handsome than he did yesterday.

“I don’t forgive easily, Your Majesty,” I reply.

“No, I don’t imagine you do.” He steps back to survey me. “This gown is lovely. It enhances your beauty to perfection.”

“Its maker would be gratified to hear that.” I can imagine the smirk of satisfaction on my Faerie godfather’s face if he heard the compliment.

“You’re beautiful always,” the King continues softly, “but especially when you’re startled. All the defensiveness and anger leaves your face, and it’s justyou. It’s the same way when you come. I can see your soul then, free of everything life has done to you.”

There’s a sweet intimacy in his tone that I wasn’t expecting, and I feel suddenly awash with sadness. “By all appearances, I’m rich and happy,” I answer. “What makes you think life has been cruel to me?”

---