Page 43 of A Storm in Every Heart
He gives me an almost affectionate clap on the shoulder. “Fine. But if you’re not back by then, I’ll send Lyra out here to get you.”
I wrinkle my nose but just nod. I believe Magnus means well by sending his daughter, and I don’t want to offend him by asking for someone else.
I’ve been betrothed to Lady Lyra Von Bargen since before I was able to speak in full sentences. I can only assume the arrangement has something to do with my father’s affection for the man who just left, because it certainly has nothing to do with my affection—or lack thereof—for Lyra.
I don’t precisely dislike her, but I’ve never been able to picture myself married to her either. Everyone says I’ll feel differently about it when we eventually form a soul-bond, but I can’t imagine that happening either. Bonds tend to form from intense emotional shared experiences, and I can’t recall ever seeing Lyra show even a hint of emotion about anything. A full-scale riot could break out in front of her and she would nod and clap politely like she was attending the opera.
I turn back to the view of the open ocean, sucking in a deep, calming breath. The evening air tastes like the ocean and the sweet orchid blossoms blooming along the rocky coast.
The door behind me opens again, and I stiffen.For fuck’s sake.
I spin on my heel, expecting to see Magnus. “I said five minutes, that wasn’t—” I stop short mid-sentence.
It’s not Magnus or even Lyra. Instead, there’s a pretty girl with cascading red hair standing in the doorway, her blue eyes wide with surprise as my shout echoes down the hall.
I clear my throat and step back against the railing. “Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
The girl blinks up at me, letting the door swing shut behind her as the confusion clears from her face. I wait for her to bowher head and insist the uncomfortable moment was her fault—just like any other courtier would do—but she doesn’t.
Instead, her eyes narrow and she scoffs. “Gods, I’m an idiot. I should have known,” she mumbles to herself, before tossing her hair over her shoulder and flouncing away from me without so much as a curtsy.
I stare after her, dumbstruck.
“Excuse me,” I blurt out, taking a lurching step after the girl.
Again, she ignores me. She walks down the hall, far enough that it’s clear she’s trying to put space between us, and leans on the railing overlooking the ocean just as I was doing a moment ago.
I sense my heartbeat quicken—it’s not anger. It’s indignation. Curiosity.
“Excuse me!” I repeat, striding toward her. “Did you hear me?”
The girl glances over her shoulder at me. “I don’t know how it would be possible not to hear you. Do you always yell at strangers like that?”
I blink in surprise, and answer her out of sheer force of habit. “No.”
“Good.” She turns away to look at the ocean again. “I would hate to think all the rumors about you are true…although, evidently, most are. That’s disappointing.”
I stop a few yards away from her. “What rumors?”
She sighs as if I’m annoying her.
As ifI’mannoyingher. Unbelievable.
She waves a hand in the air, still refusing to face me. “Oh, you know.”
My stomach lurches. “No…I don’t know.”
“You must know everyone says you’re as arrogant and cruel as Thorne—” she clears her throat. “Sorry,PrinceThorne, I mean.”
I blink several times. Who is saying that?
I’m not arrogant—at least, not in any way that I don’t have every right to be. If I’m not especially personable, it’s only because I detest large groups of people. I can’t mingle with the court like everyone else. I have responsibilities, and?—
I shake my head. Why am I even worrying about this? Who the hell is this girl who thinks she can insult me to my face?
“What’s your name?” I demand, well aware that my tone is just as rude as she accused me of being.
“Why?” she asks without looking at me.
