Page 39 of Of Song and Scepter
Twisting, I attempt to dislodge my foot from the vine. Pain sears up my leg, and I hiss in frustration. Will I have to gnaw my own foot off? Or hang here until he goes to sleep?
He moves toward the balcony, stepping into the light of the moon. I twist the vine into the wall to shield myself, peering through the leaves. Thorns pierce my skin, tangle in my hair. A bit of blood trickles down my ankle. I hold my breath in fear of alerting him to my presence, praying to Tephra this vine holds my weight.
The silver light glistens on his wet skin, enhancing the sparkle of the green scales that scatter across his arms, his chest, and the sharp valley between his abdominal muscles.
The prince leans against the marble banister and surveys the royal city below. His face isn’t stern and fierce. It's soft—a expression of kindness utterly foreign to me. Aching. Emotion plays across his features like reflected light, varied in hue and flavor.
His brow knits, his mouth set in a hard line, like he’s figuring out a difficult puzzle. He rubs a spot on his ribs, his fingers pressing deep into the skin.
“Where are you, Wicked?” he whispers. After a moment of searching the beach, he sighs and returns to his room, pulling the towel free of his waist.
The towel drops.
I glimpse two cheeks of his round, muscular ass before I tear my gaze away, yank my ankle free at last, and climb down the vine. If Odissa succeeds in her bargain and becomes the permanent Queen of Coral, maybe I’ll stick around—play handmaid a while longer—if only for the proximity to her sad, pretty king.
Chapter twenty-four
Soren
The princess has infiltratedmy palace. I cannot go anywhere during daylight hours without catching a whisper of her, a glimpse of her. Ever since our understanding in the gardens, I’ve avoided her at all costs. Still, she’s there. Always there. She’s at my dinner table, walking my beach, her wicked handmaid stalking after her with that damned parasol. She’s flirting with the guards outside my door, begging for admittance.
What more does she want from me? Affection? I’ll marry this female, irritating and power-hungry as she is, because it’s in the best interest of my kingdom. The least she can do is leave me to mourn the last few weeks of my freedom in peace.
As the moon rises, I straighten at my desk, stack the ledgers neatly, and roll the soreness from my shoulders. All the wedding affairs are paid for, the schedule decided, and the invitationssent. In two weeks’ time, Audrina will bloom in her fullness, and the door to my future will close to resounding applause.
I stretch my arms over my head, and my spine cracks in a symphony of relief. As has become my habit, I reach for my ribs next, swiping my thumb over the spot where the itchy scale used to be. In the past few days, the sting has finally subsided, but I still trace the scale, reveling in the loss of its familiar ache.
But the stretch is not enough; my body craves movement. I should go for a walk—the princess won’t be out this late in the evening, and I could use the exercise. I’ve been skipping my sparring sessions with Nara, simply to avoid the possibility of running into Aris on the way to the ring.
My stomach growls, reminding me of my untouched dinner. Perhaps I’ll swing by the kitchen for a late-night snack. I nod at the guard, and he returns the gesture.
No sign of the princess.
In the lower hallway, two figures stand around the bend, effectively blocking my only pathway to the kitchen wing beyond. I press myself against the wall to hear the conversation.
“She’s like a silver cloud, lovely and delicate. Just what this kingdom needs,” Lady Myrrh’s bubbling soprano drifts to me.
Lord Varik’s voice comes in response, thick with irony. “I see you have yet to uncover the princess’s fangs?”
Even if the princess isn’t here in body, she’s here in name. I cannot seem to escape her.
“Bah,” Lady Myrrh huffs. “These things aren’t all about appearances, you know.”
“No, of course not, my lady,” the treasurer chides. “Not when she appears like… What was it you said? A silver cloud? How quaint.”
The lady makes a squeal of protest, and I peer around the edge of the wall. The two council members stand in the middle of the hallway, facing each other with crossed arms. Her back to me,Lady Myrrh rattling the beads of her chest piece with nervous hands while the lord towers over her, his face plastered with his signature eelish sneer.
There’s space behind Lady Myrrh, just enough for me to sneak past. If luck serves me well, they will continue their argument without notice, and I can be on my way. Lord Varik may spot me, but he’ll let me go without incident. It’s the lady I must be careful of.
Hunger gnaws at my stomach, sharp and demanding. With a sigh, I step around the corner.
Before I can take three steps, Lady Myrrh turns to greet me with an emphatic curtsy. “Oh, Your Highness!” Her hair bobs, a stray curl falling into her eyes. She brushes it away, quickly tucking it behind her pointed ear.
I nod to her politely and greet her by name, continuing my brisk pace. But as I pass, she raises her voice to a level not easy to ignore.
“I was just saying to Lord Varik how exquisite the princess looked in her day gown on the beach this afternoon. What a treasure you’ve found! Thank the gods, I don’t think we’ll need to use that pendant, after all. I don’t know what Lord Almar was thinking. Wretched old thing.”
“Princess Aris is indeed lovely. I am glad you are pleased, my lady.” I step away, signaling my departure with another curt nod. She catches my arm.
