Page 135 of The Ashes and the Star-Cursed King

It looked fake.

But not his stare. That was… too revealing. He shouldn’t be looking at me like that here. Not with all these people watching.

I recognized those with him right away—House of Shadow royalty. I wasn’t about to interrupt that.

I turned away, breaking our stare. Strange how all these eyes on me meant nothing to me. But Raihn’s… my fingers fell to my chest, over my quickening heartbeat.

“Gods!” Mische was beside me in a flurry of gold and the scent of lavender. “You lookincredible!”

She was holding a glass of blood in one gloved hand and some kind of meat-and-blood filled pastry in the other. She looked like the embodiment of sunshine—so dazzling it actually stunned me.

Her eyes were round as she looked me up and down and leaned close.

“Is this… did Cairis pick this?”

“The dress? Yes.”

“But the—”

She stared pointedly down at my chest—my Mark.

“The top piece was uncomfortable,” I said. “I decided not to wear it.”

A sly smile spread over her lips. “You’ve got such balls. I love it.”

I took in Mische’s dress, the gold shifting and glittering under the Nightfire lights. It was so… un-vampiric. So unabashedlyher. I couldn’t imagine a single other soul wearing it as well.

“You look good, too,” I said, even thoughgoodwas too weak a word for it.

My gaze slid across the room again over her shoulder—to where Raihn was talking to the Shadowborn prince. The prince’s eyes kept wandering away from him and landing on Mische.

Poor Raihn. Such an important conversation, and he couldn’t even keep the man’s attention. Then again, could anyone blame him?

“Looks like the dress has earned you some admirers.” I nodded to the prince across the room, and Mische turned to follow my stare—

—And froze.

Her smile faded. Her cheeks, normally flushed, went ashen beneath speckles of gold.

The difference in her was so sudden and stark that it had me startled. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer. Didn’t move.

I touched her shoulder, as if to physically pull her out of her trance.

“Mische,” I said. “What’s wrong?”

I let more concern creep into my voice than I’d meant to.

She turned abruptly back to me. “Nothing. Nothing. I just—I suddenly have a headache. I think I need a drink.” She set down her nearly full glass and turned away, then turned back to me, like she couldn’t decide which direction to go. Her eyes were wide and frantic. “Don’t tell Raihn I’m—just tell him I—I needed more food.”

“Mische—”

But she’d slipped back into the crowd before I could get her name out. I started to go after her, but someone caught my shoulder. I jerked away and turned around, a snarled word already halfway to my lips.

Standing before me was Simon—Raihn’s troublesome Rishan noble.

I recognized him right away, even though we’d never met. He strongly resembled the brother Raihn had killed during that first meeting. But even aside from that, his real tell was that his entire being reeked of vampiric noble entitlement. I knew the type well.

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