Page 50 of Shadows of the Crown

“Such brave words from the same prince who has gotten his ass kicked multiple times by me.”

A shrug and a haughty smile. “And I’d take a thousand more just to be the only one that saw how beautiful you look tonight.” Those silver eyes blaze with the sincerity of his confession.

What is it about him that roots itself under my skin and shifts every resolve?

I flex my fingers—when was the last time I released essence?

“Why do you do that?” My eyes snap to his. He studies me.

“Do what?” I know what he’ll say, but I question it regardless.

“Shut down…” He reaches for a strand of my hair. I let him. “Every time I compliment you, or tell you how I feel, it’s like you become this entirely new, unfeeling person.”

“Don’t compliment me, then.” He scoffs, dropping my hair. I keep allowing him too close…

“Dance with me.” Not a question—a request. For me to give in to whatever the fuck is happening between us. He offers a hand, failing to notice the amount of people watching our interaction.

An awareness settles in my throat, and my gaze flicks left to where the king sits on his throne. I cannot see his eyes from such a distance, but I feel him watching me. Watching Caspian.

“I’m supposed to be accompanied by your cousin, if you remember.”

“That is not something I will ever forget—but he won’t show until much later. Probably already drunk, if his past escapades are of any indication.”

I look to Thalion again, and whether it’s to defy his orders or appease the fluttering under my skin, I cannot be sure…

I set my hand in the prince’s and lead us to the center of the ballroom. Guests scuttle from our path, creating a wide space under a chandelier. I spin, a fragment of my dress curling around Caspian’s leg before slipping back to mine. He smiles coyly as I secure my open hand over his shoulder.

This is a performance. For them. The prince and the assassin—dancing for the entire kingdom’s witness.

But it is also for us…a production long overdue. The prince —caught in a deadly game that has succeeded in blurring the line I created between revenge and desire.

My fingers find the lapels of his vest as we begin our movement. Our feet find a steady rhythm, weaving together skillfully. We spin and my eyes catch on Isaiah, who leans against the wall with a drink and pins me with a look that certainly says,“I was right.”

He’ll pay for that later.

The assortment of perfume is heavier here, mixed with the aroma of lingering sweat. It’s not unpleasant, though I’m certain that is due to the prince’s scent masking a majority of it.

“Tell me something about you,” the prince insists, my abdomen clenching at the words.

“Like?” The hand on my waist presses in until our clothes brush, and sweat begins to bead against my neck.

His eyes remain connected to mine, as if there is nothing else in this room for him to see. “Something no one else knows.”

“I’d argue that you already know more about me than any other living person.” His brows dip. If he wishes to know the meaning of my words, he doesn’t ask. Instead, he watches me with an unimpressed look, and I realize Iwantto tell him something no one else knows.

“My favorite color is purple—not bright purple, but the soft kind.”

“Like lavender?” he whispers, his lips molding the word perfectly.

“Yes.”

He pauses our dance as his fingers trail lightly down my waist, over the sensitive skin at my hip until he grips my thigh just above the blade and lifts. I arch into him and grasp his neck as he dips me back. I attempt to steady my breathing, my collected mask slowly dissolving. The silk of his hair cools my tingling hand, and I’m certain the Aether can hear the pounding of my heart.

A finger taps against the blade—not mine.

“You have yet to threaten my life with this today…that must be a record,” he teases, raising my body as he pulls my leg further over his hip.

“Why don’t we rectify that?” I grab his neck with my free hand, sliding the other down his chest until it covers his. He smiles boyishly as my fingers push under his grasp and wrap around the hilt of my blade, dragging it up my thigh. It scrapes lightly against my skin, though the prince doesn’t allow for anything else as he tightens his hold.

---