Page 48 of Shadows of the Crown

“Of course not…but you truly wish for this?” His words say one thing, though his eyes maintain a different story—feelings that are not mine to care for.

“I belong to no one, prince. You’d do well to remember that.” I turn on my heel and stalk away from the dramas of men, directing my stride to the castle.

The sun sinks into my exposed skin, succeeding in overheating every part of me. I did not desire to attend this pathetic ball,though I suppose Bastian has given me an opportunity…this is what I needed to effectively push Caspian away.

So why does my stomach hurt?

A finger taps against my blade restlessly, the click of my nail providing something to focus on.

“Damn—now I know how you’ve stayed alive for so long.” I halt at the arrogant voice, willing the Angel to grant me even the semblance of patience, lest I drastically decrease the number of living contestants today.

A calm facade slides over my features as I pivot to Sivara’s smirking face. Thalia looms just behind her, arms crossed as she feigns a kind of superiority she’ll never truly experience.

“I mean, I thought it was curious how much time you and the prince spend together…but now his cousin, too?” she taunts, gesturing to the two men who stand several feet away, watching our interaction closely. From my peripheral, Caspian’s hesitance at intervening begs me to fling my blade at him. “You must know how to use your tongue well, because it’s certainly not your personality that has them falling all over you.” I smile malignantly and draw closer to her, studying her upturned eyes.

“Would you like to find out just how well I use my tongue, Sivara?” The tops of her cheeks redden, and her feet shift as her eyes barely dart to her companion.

“Why the fuck would I want to know that?”

I shrug. “I just assumed so, considering how often you talk about me. So if that’s not what you want, then why do you care so much about who I’m fucking?”

“Because you’re getting advantages that the rest of us aren’t!” I burst out laughing, unsheathing a blade and pointing it at Caspian and Bastian before I spin it through my fingers.

“Look at them…” She does, her forehead creasing. “Do they truly look as if either of them could provide me with any sensible benefit?”

“We can hear you…” My attention slides to the prince’s cousin as he winces, running a hand through his styled hair uneasily.

“You were meant to,” I state coldly, focusing on Sivara again. “If you wish to bring him to your bed, I won’t stop you. The prince’s cousin is an idiot, but maybe he could be useful for something.” I wink before stalking away.

The king…the ball…Isaiah…the prince…my head throbs.

Chapter Twenty-One

Ariella

Isaiah bangs against the door for the fourth time. “Come on, Ari…we have to be there. I’m sure you look just fine.”

Says the man who doesn’t have to wear a dress.

Also says the man who isn’t obligated to dance with the prince’s cousin.

“I know I look fine,” I retort, swinging open my door. Isaiah leans against the frame, lifting his head when I exit. “I just do not want to go…I’d rather march up the mountain in this outfit and face the griffin again.”

I pull the door closed with a hand behind me, tugging on my umbral strand to ward it discreetly.

A wasted effort because Isaiah would not have noticed, even if I’d announced it. He stands frozen, mouth agape as his feet become rooted to the bright tile on the floor. I glance down, grimacing at my choice of dress…I’d convinced myself that it would infuriate Caspian the most, though I now fear it may garner the opposite reaction.

To the amusement of the shop owner yesterday, I’d chosen a floor-length, black dress with slits along the sides that reach my waist. Each step highlights my hips down to the silver heels I’ve donned, along with a color-matching jeweled belt cinched at my waist—it rests just below the slit between my breasts, leaving most of my skin exposed.

And the best feature? The third slit that divides the fabric curving down my back…the top of it ends just a breath away from fully exposing me.

“You’re a dream.” My eyes flick to Isaiah’s as he slides his hands into the pockets of his suit pants and tilts his head. “Though I recall you mentioning your aversion to the prince’s attention…” His suggestive eyes narrow as a smile trails his lips.

I step forward with my left leg, fully exhibiting the blade attached to it. “What are you suggesting, Is?” He barks a laugh as he raises his hands placatingly.

“Absolutely nothing…are you ready?” He holds out an arm—one in which I would refuse any other day. But I smile genuinely as my hand wraps around the hard muscle, my fingers immediately tapping against his smooth maroon jacket.

“Are you stillaccompanyingthe royal cousin?”

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