Page 61 of Forged in Flame and Shadow

I keep my head down as Tira helps me teeter over to a seat.

But will you give hereverythingshe wants? What about Leon? Will you stay away from him too?

It’s not the same thing, I know it’s not, but if she can make me back down here, where will it stop? Today, she makes me believe I don’t belong at a ball. Tomorrow, will she make me believe I don’t belong with a certain fae prince—that he’d be better off with someone who understands his world and can bend it to her will accordingly?

I feel her watching me now, and I imagine her again wrapped around Leon, caressing his cheek as she gives me a smug smile. Jealousy flares within me, burning away some of the shame.

This is ridiculous. I don’t have to accept defeat; I just have to think smarter.

A servant floats by with a tray of drinks, and I snatch one up, yanking my shoes off with my other hand.

“Step back,” I murmur to Tira under my breath, and once she obeys, I let the goblet slip from my fingers. The clattering noise it makes as it hits the ground is much louder than I expect, but all the better to get people’s attention. Several of the noblewomen turn in time to see the dark red wine spill across the floor and cover the shoes.

“Oh no!” I put all I have into the performance, clutching my face, pretending to be completely horrified by what I’ve done. “I’ve ruined your lovely gift, Lady Naia. I’m so sorry. All this wine must’ve made me quite clumsy.”

Some of the fae snicker at my gracelessness, easily buying into the idea of me making a drunken fool of myself.

“I wouldn’t worry, Your Highness,” Helia says quickly, following my lead. “We’ll find you another pair. After all, a gracious host like Lady Naia wouldn’t dream of letting you attend her ball in ruined footwear.”

Lady Naia’s face sours, and I know I’ve got her in a corner now. She won’t be able to insist I wear the shoes without admitting she’s tampered with them, and I can’t be accused of deliberately insulting her by refusing to wear them either.

“Never mind, Your Highness,” Lady Naia says. “We can simply have them cleaned. I’m sure there’s a suitable aquari around here somewhere.”

Oh no, you don’t.

I fight back, refusing to let her trap me. “I couldn’t possibly put someone to all that trouble,” I say with a benevolent smile. “I’ll just wear the pair I came in.”

“Even better,” Desme jumps in. “I have a spare pair I’m sure will fit you. I have very dainty feet,” she says with a wink.

Helia ushers Tira and me over to the chairs where the fae hairdressers are working as Desme digs out her spare shoes. I try them on while a talented woman pins my hair up in a loose twist, leaving some chestnut strands falling delicately around my face. The shoes fit me despite our height difference, and I’m too relieved to even worry about the deep red lipstick one of the fae servants paints on me, muttering about how it suits my complexion.

“Nicely played,” Tira whispers to me. “She’s fuming.”

But when I glance her way, it doesn’t look to me like Lady Naia’s particularly disappointed.

“I’ve still got to go parade myself in front of the fae court in thisscrap of a dress.I’m sure that will be some consolation to her.”

“You look devastatingly sexy,” Tira says with a grin. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Leon came at the sight of you.”

I smack her arm in playful outrage. “Tira!”

“What?” She raises her eyebrows. “Wouldn’t that be a good outcome? Surely by now you want to rub it in her face that he’s pining after you.”

I don’t know ifpiningis the word I’d use. I know Leon wants me, he made that clear yesterday, but that kind of raw, animal hunger isn’t what matters—at least, not as much as his actions.

“Just walk in there like you own the place,” Tira says to me as the women start setting down their glasses and picking up their skirts to proceed into the ballroom.

“Could you ever have imagined back in Otscold that we’d be doing something like this one day?” I ask Tira.

“Gods no,” she says. “Me an innkeeper’s daughter, and you all sickly and locked up in that house? But we’re not defined by our pasts.” She says the last part to herself as much as to me, looking somewhere in the distance before turning to smile at me. “Come on, let’s remind these fae that Trovian women aren’t to be messed with.”

Returning her smile, I loop my arm through Tira’s, and we follow the noblewomen out.

Chapter 20

Morgana

“How bad is it?” I ask Tira under my breath as we enter the ballroom, and hundreds of eyes turn toward us.

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