Page 46 of Shadows of the Crown

Rather than claiming the prince’s—or king’s—life, I’ve been dragged into talk of the upcoming ball. One in which I would never willingly attend—but that’s the thing…I do not have a choice. The collar around my neck ensures my attendanceandfinest behavior.

Too many times have I considered using the ball as my final stage; delighting in the horrified faces of those in attendance as they watched me slide my blade across their king’s throat. I’ve never enjoyed—or tolerated—an audience during my assignments, but this is different. It’s the very moment I have trained for the last twenty years…the sole objective my life has revolved around, and the reason I am the best killer in this realm.

But I cannot follow-through yet.

My eyes flit to Isaiah as he tosses his head back to laugh at whatever Ally said. She bites her cheek and watches his movements with pure adoration in her gaze.

It’s possible I’ve been too harsh in my judgments of her. My opinions and desires mean little when I know my life has a quickly approaching expiration. He is the only one of us who will live, and if he wishes to spend the remainder of this competition with Ally, it is certainly not my place to tell him otherwise.

Even those thoughts are not enough to assuage the roaring hunger inside me. I want to scream at them—shake them until they grasp that dresses and dance partners are among the most trivial matters to worry over.

They still would not understand, however. I’ve never even whispered my plans for the royal family…losing my grasp on the ultimate goal will only tarnish all that I worked for.

So here I sit—under a sweltering sun as I pretend to care about the upcoming ball.

“Ariella?” I suck in a breath, focusing on the two sets of eyes waiting for my answer to something I didn’t hear.

“What?” My voice is clipped, but I do not feel like dealing with this topic any longer. Or anything else today.

Ally’s eyes flit to Isaiah before she repeats herself. “I was wondering what you plan to wear?” I lift one of the hands I am leaning back on, gesturing to the only clothes I ever wear.

They’re practical—though I’ll admit they are of little use against the heat.

“You wacky woman,” Is mutters, chuckling under his breath. “You cannot expect the king to allow such attire at theball.”

“You seem to be under the impression that I fucking care what Thalion will allow.” We study each other, a darkness passing through his eyes. I know what his instincts demand him to say—to implore me to just follow the king’s orders, because he’ll kill me otherwise.

Then his rationale approaches, where he once more realizes that we will both not survive this, anyway, so it is pointless for him to argue. He chuffs, rolling his neck back; I salute his dismissal and slice another piece of apple with my blade, sighing when the tangy juices coat my tongue.

“Well, I personally think you should wear a dress…oh!” She waves her hands, lurching upright. “You would look so pretty in one that had silver beads woven into the fabric! Actually, in Meridian there’s a dress shop that is inspired by the Ebelan ocean! Many of the dresses are a deep blue or green, but some are even orange, like the sunsets that reflect off the water. Each dress is made of a silken fabric and stitched in a way that it looks like waves swimming over your skin. And the owner’s specialty is placing small diamonds throughout, so when the wearer moves around, the light catches the jewels in such a way that their body appears just like the sparkling waters beyond the coast!”

My lips thin as I nod absently. “That all sounds brilliant, though I will not be buying anything of the sort.”

Silence follows, prompting my eyes to find Ally’s. She chews on her thumb, deep creases formed next to her eyes. Fuck’s sake. “What?” I bark, earning a glare from Isaiah.

“It’s just…” she hesitates, mouthing something silently to herself. “Well…don’t you want to look nice for the prince?” Is doubles over in a coughing fit, his eyes sparkling when they meet mine.

His head shakes frantically as he waves a hand at Ally. “I am not helping you with that one.” Another cough before he focuses on his food.

“Why in the Aether would I wish to look like anythingfor the prince?”

I glare into her eyes, nearly at the end of my patience when she begins sputtering. “Um—I just thought…you know…I thought you two had something going on?”

“Something going on.” Not a question, though my tone is cruel enough to warrant an answer.

She looks to Isaiah for help, who pointedly ignores her—the rejection is oddly gratifying. “You can’t be serious, Ariella?” she exclaims breathlessly. I raise a brow and remain very still. “I see the way you two look at each other…”

My jaw clenches; either she’s too perceptive, or I am not avoiding him enough. “And how is it you think I look at him?”

Her mouth forms an ‘o’ before she wets her lips, her throat bobbing. “Well, it’s how he looks at you, really…it’s sweet. His eyes find you the moment you enter a room, and it’s like he can’t blink until you’re out of sight. His focus on you is so intense it makesmeblush!” She sighs dramatically. “I wish someone would look at me that way…”

So she is too perceptive,andI’m not avoiding him enough.

That must be what the king has seen—enough to prompt him to threaten me face-to-face. I had wanted Caspian’s attention originally, but I did not plan for his brand of infatuation. It’s fucking with my head.

“What do you guys think the third trial will be?” Ally’s quiet voice interrupts my silent seething. “There’s still more than a dozen of us, so I’m sure they’re planning something big.”

“Hopefully nothing with a damn griffin,” Is mutters, pushing to his feet when I do.

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