Page 127 of A Court Bright and Broken

“Very well then. Are you sure you don’t want to take just one whiff before I pour it down the drain?”

“Why would you pour it out?” she asked. “Just take it back to wherever you bought it.”

“Oh, I didn’t buy this,” I said. “In fact, it’s something that can’t be bought. The royal perfumer creates fragrances for our family alone. I had this one made especially for you. It contains all your favorite scents.”

“How doyouknow what my favorite scents are?” she challenged in a tone that told me she believed I had no idea. But I’d been listening.

“Jasmine, honeysuckle, iced vanilla cakes…” I counted them off.

Then I added the clincher—something she’d mentioned only once. “And a touch of newly begun rainfall.”

Raewyn’s jaw fell open, and I had to bite my tongue to suppress a smile.

“Are you sure you don’t want justonelittle sniff before I get rid of it?” I asked.

Withdrawing the cone shaped applicator cap from the neck of the bottle, I ran it under my nose.

“Arjunreallyoutdid himself this time. I think these may becomemyfavorite scents as well.”

A hint of the fragrance must have wafted across the room because Raewyn suddenly sat up straighter and leaned toward me, sniffing the air.

“But alas, if you don’t want it…”

I strolled from the room and came back without the perfume, though I had not actually poured it down the drain. I still had hope Raewyn might come around and want it later.

But I was running out of ideas. My final surprise of the evening wasn’t scheduled to start for almost an hour.

After casting a longing glance toward the other room, Raewyn had gone back to reading. And ignoring me.

Taking a seat and picking up a book myself, I attempted to get into the story. But it was impossible. I kept sneaking looks at her.

If she wasn’t willing to accept my gifts, there was no way she’d consider accepting my proposal.

What was I going to do?

Then I remembered something else Mareth had said—that women loved honesty. That sharing something real about yourself could be a gift in itself.

Laying my book across my lap, I said, “Ask me something.”

Raewyn looked up crossly. “What?”

“Ask me a question. Anything. Whatever you want to know. I’ll tell you the truth.”

Now I had her attention. She placed her book to one side and eyed me speculatively.

“Anything?”

My hands were beginning to sweat, but I said, “Anything.”

“Tell me about your glamour. Many of the Elves I saw at the ball wore marks on their bodies proclaiming theirs. But you don’t have one—not that I’ve seen anyway.”

I winced. “Could we start with something a little easier?”

“Fine. Tell me about your father’s. You said he ‘always gets what he wants.’ Is that because of his glamour, or just because he’s king?”

If Raewyn had been from another Elven clan, giving her that information would be an act of treason. But she was human, and the whole point of this exercise was to build trust. So I answered.

“Both. He’s a Compeller,” I told her.

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