Page 83 of Prince of Masks
But I have to wait.
The servant is of low rank, and so the hush remains as he fixes the fresh bites onto the cake stand.
Whatever it was, it sent Mr Ström into a breakdown, and they won’t be attending our tradition of Rugby Sunday. To anyone outside of the coven, that might not sound like a big deal.
But it is.
Not all aristos are invited to this annual event, not all elites are welcomed.
We—the families gathered here on this terrace—are what we consider extended family. These alliances run deeper than any others outside of the circle. Every year, the Coven of Europe come together on this terrace.
That’s a big fucking deal to turn one’s nose up at.
Edward Ström has basically gone and told Amelia Sinclair, the hostess, to go fuck herself.
There will be repercussions for that.
I loosen a whooshed breath of impatience and look over at the muddy field.
I watch the four silhouettes on the grounds, the once lush field now torn apart. Their renewed game of rugby kicks off, even in the drizzle.
Air brushes over my shoulder, the servant slipping away. Not a moment after, Amelia’s rushed whisper comes—
“Dray broke off the engagement.”
A jolt strikes me, lightning through my suddenly lurching insides.
I swerve my stunned gaze between the bemused faces angled at me, small smiles that dare twist into grins and laughter. So maybe I took a moment to really understand what Amelia said.
He broke off the engagement…
But those words have sunk now.
And I look like a stunned goldfish. “He did what?”
Mother is the one who says, “Dray annulled his engagement to Asta, as of just two days ago.”
Serena elbows me.
I blink at her, and her answer is a look, athis-is-what-I-was-talking-aboutsort of look, pointed and all-knowing.
Amelia adds, “And Edward is in such a mood about it that he’s declared himself absent for the rest of the season.Ourseason,” Amelia clarifies. “He made a point in that meeting—I could hear it down the corridor—that he won’t be attending any of our gatherings outside of the Debutante Ball.”
I find no words in me. But I have a sudden understanding of Mr Vasile’s voiced fears.
I cup my cooled tea. It’s warm enough to soothe my palms, but the sensation is dull and distant.
My focus is entirely on the shock of it all.
I can’t keep the surprise from hitching my voice or arching my brows, pinned higher on my forehead. They might never drop. “He and Asta areperfectfor each other. Why would he annul?”
When I say perfect for each other, I might mean that they are equal beasts and their ugly natures are well suited.
“And so last minute,” Serena mulls.
I nod, wide-eyed.
The last minute nature of it all is chaotic.
