Page 18 of The King's Maiden
“A part of me wonders if I still should,” I admitted too freely, but I liked the flash of disappointment on his face when I said it. “But I need to do this. I won’t run.”
“You think you’re ready for it?”
“I have to be.” I glanced at the party. “Don’t I? I mean, I guess unless…”
Stowed away in this corner by the door, I still had no idea what to expect from this place, but I couldn’t deny it intrigued me. For the first time since I’d gotten the invitation, I considered the possibility ofnotbeing asked to stay.
Peaceful acceptance didn’t follow that thought.
The disappointment that came with it surprised me.
“There’s a chance they could make the decision for me.” I shrugged, watching the partygoers all together. “I might not be picked.”
Between that or being sent home, I still didn’t know which would be the lesser of two evils. But separated from the crowd, Iwantedto be a part of it.
The hair on my arm rose to attention as the Dark Knight stepped into my body. Closing the distance between us. Stealing it away with the air in my lungs.
His sudden proximity made me dizzy.
I clutched onto his arm to keep myself upright.
His hand found the small of my back. “You’re meant to be here. I already know it.”
My heartbeat stuttered, and I couldn’t help but wonder ifhewas my Knight. If that was what he meant and if this time life had decided to give me something other than lemons. I closed my eyes, breathing in the intoxicating scent of him—a heady mix of bergamot and dark, earthy spices.
“I’m Quinn,” I rasped. “Quinn Everly.”
I had hoped for a sign he was the Knight here for me. Or, at the very least, his name in return. But as soon as I offered mine, he pulled back.
His eyes darkened even further, his voice suddenly cold.
“You’re here for the King.”
I stared up at him, thrown slightly off balance, and I tipped my head toward the party. “Aren’t we all?”
His eyes didn’t leave my face, but a crease lined his brow as he assessed me again. It felt like he was seeing me for the first time. Only, this time, he didn’t like what he found.
“Hm.” His tone clipped, he righted me on my feet. “I guess I was wrong.”
“What?” My brow furrowed, the barest hint of rejection washing over me as he stepped back. “What do you mean?”
He shook out his jacket before setting it aside. As he rolled up his right sleeve, he wouldn’t meet my eyes. Staring out at the party, he cuffed the fabric before starting on the other. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, leaving it at that.
I searched his face as his fingers worked quickly. When he was done, he flicked his gaze over me. Swinging his jacket over his left shoulder, he moved to step away.
And I should’ve let it go.
I should’ve lethimgo.
We didn’t know each other. By the way he reacted to my name, I assumed he wasn’t my Knight—if I’d even been picked.So, I should’ve let him take his whiplash and quick judgment with him as he left.
But I didn’t.
My hand shot out and latched onto his forearm. Heat seared my palm, sparking along my skin and up my arm. He froze, glaring at the contact—glaring at me. But I held firm.
“Your name,” I demanded. “Tell me your name.”
Something flickered in his expression. “Why do you care,Quinn Everly?”
