Page 47 of Shadows of the Crown

“You’re bleeding.” My eyes slide to Ally at the prince's unwanted voice, who is practically beaming with a not-so-casual“I told you so.”She grabs Isaiah’s arm and violently drags him toward the city, chattering about her need to find a dress immediately. He peers over his shoulder and pins me with a pleading look. I shrug and wave sweetly, chuckling when he slides a finger across his throat before relenting to Ally’s mission.

A force grips my wrist and tugs, my head snapping to the right just as the prince’s mouth wraps around my finger.

The unrelenting confidence this man possesses…

It’s a nauseating struggle to remain impassive as I raise my brows—another twenty years of training could not have prepared me for this moment.

My eyes narrow as he sucks, swirling his tongue around thoroughly. My abdomen clenches when his teeth graze the sensitive skin on my fingertip as he pulls it out. He smiles wickedly at whatever he sees when scorching eyes meet mine. The air shifts as he rises to his full height, examining my finger closely.

My lungs burn—a reminder that I need to breathe.

When he’s satisfied, he drops our hands, both of his still wrapped around mine. “That’s better,” he teases, his smirk one of a prince who has never been told no.

“I don’t recall granting you permission to touch me.” Ignoring how breathless I sound, I attempt to draw my hand back. He doesn’t allow it.

The air between us thins as his feet take one step—he chuckles darkly, pressing our coiled hands into his stomach as he leans forward.

“Trust me, I am painfully aware…because if you had,” he whispers, his eyes trapping me. I couldn’t move if I wanted to—do I want to? “We’d already be in my room. No one would see us fordays.”

I swallow thickly around a laugh, allowing my lips to curl slightly though they beg for far more give. “You truly thinkso highly of yourself.” His thumbs stroke my palm as lavender and something I cannot place settles over me.

“It’s difficult not to whentheAriella Mistaire looks at me the way you do.” The fantasy—whatever this is—shrivels into nothing and exposes the reality I lost focus of. I straighten and snatch my hand back, the prince finally letting go.

“What are you doing here?”

His lips purse, eyes searching mine before he shakes his head. “Ouch,” he mutters, and I have the sense that I wasn’t meant to hear it. “Well, I was hopi—”

“Silver Wraith, how wonderful to see you again!” Bastian saunters over to where the prince and I stand too close. I step back, tilting my head toward the unwelcome visitor.

He wears cream, tailored pants that button around a muddled shirt; it’s as if he lazily tucked a few parts in and donned a navy vest before leaving the castle. His charming smile appears strained as he waits for me to speak.

“Is it?” He nods, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Her name is Ariella,” Caspian grits out, his tongue expertly curving around the final word.

Bastian’s eyes widen as he licks his lips. “Right—my apologies, Ariella. I meant no offense.”

I hum, crossing my arms. “Then whatdidyou mean?” He shifts, clearing his throat. The sun’s light brightens momentarily, highlighting his lingering eyes.

“Actually, I had come here to ask you something.” I blink. “Yes, well…if I may speak with you privately?” His gaze flits to the prince, though his high-pitched tone tells me everything I need to know—Caspian will not like what his cousin wishes to say.

Perfect.

“He stays, or I leave. Ask your question.” The prince smirks, deciding I’ve kept him here for a very different reason.

Bastian smiles politely, bowing his head. “As you wish. I was hoping you’d allow me to accompany you to the ball.”

“What?” the prince and I speak in unison.

I study the sweating man before me, though it takes not one heartbeat before an idea invades my mind.

“Of course she wouldn’t go—”

“Yes,” I interrupt Caspian, his head snapping toward me.

“You can’t be serious?”

I face him fully and narrow my eyes. “You’d accuse me of lying?” He rears back, scoffing loudly.

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