Page 58 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

I stand there, pressed against a bookshelf, my hand pressed to my heaving lungs.

That . . . that was my mask.

The one I left in the Nothril Court.

So it’s true. His claim that he is here as an emissary—it’s a lie. His true purpose is to hunt the Ivy Mask.Me.

I shot Prince Rahk of the Nothril Court.

He followed me. He’s hunting me.

He’s going to kill me.

“Oh saints,” I whisper, staring at the splattered candlewax hardening on the floor. “I’m trapped.”

I’m stuck in this position with no way out. Unless I marry Lord Boreham—which won’t protect me from Prince Rahk anyway.

It is the thought of Bartholomew that brings my panicked heartbeat under control.

She is out there somewhere, and all I have to do is survive here until my birthday. Then I can get her back. I’m only three weeks away. I can do it. I’ve already outsmarted the prince thrice now. He clearly doesn’t know I’m the Ivy Mask. My mission tonight was successful.

“It’ll be fine. It’ll all be fine.” I breathe the assurances under my breath as I collect the candle and fish out the bandages from the drawer, ignoring the mask.

All I have to do is keep going. This doesn’t truly change anything. I already knew Prince Rahk would kill me if he knew who I was. So everything is . . . basically the same.

I gather my composure, pulling back my shoulders, and march to the bedroom.

The prince sits where I left him, his black eyes regarding me leisurely as I approach his side. “You took a long time.”

“I burned out my candle by accident. It took me longer to find the bandages.”

He lifts his arm, allowing me to wrap the bandages around the injury. I use an ungodly amount of it just to span the size of his arm once. He moves suddenly.

I leap back, dropping the bandage. The prince’s gaze snaps to me. His other hand slows as he scratches his temple.

That was it—he was only scratching himself.

“Sorry—sorry!” I cry, mortified by my jumpiness.

Rahk leans down and picks up the fallen bandages. He returns them to my trembling hands. I quickly tie it off and step away. His attention seems to sharpen on me, his eyes scanning me to my toes and then back up. I hide my trembling hands behind my back.

“Not all of us are made for blood and guts,” he says, glancing between me and the bowl of pink water and soiled rags. “There is no shame in being upset at the sight of an injury.”

He thinks that is why I am unsettled?

“You’ve done well tonight, Nat,” he adds quietly. “You can return to bed.”

I give a half bow. “Thank you, my lord.”

I don’t wait a second longer, and barely keep myself from bolting straight to my room. Once I’m safely ensconced inside it, I listen to his footsteps as he strides out of the bedroom.

This changes nothing.

And changeseverything.

Chapter 18

Rahk

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