Page 11 of Rhapsody of Ruin
The cry spread like wildfire. “Mask her. Mask her. Mask her.”
The girl whimpered, bowing low, pleading incoherently.
Disgust rolled through me. This court lived on cruelty, fattened itself on blood and fear. My hand twitched toward my sword before I remembered it was sealed away, wrapped and useless. Rage coiled hot in my gut.
And then Elowyn stepped forward.
Her gown brushed the grass, her mask gleamed faintly in the lanternlight. Her voice cut across the cries, cool and precise. “The girl obeyed the steward who ordered her elsewhere. She did not disobey. She followed command.”
The court stilled.
Eyes swung to me, waiting.
I felt every gaze, every whisper, pressing like a weight. Elowyn had taken a stance. If I did nothing, she would be crushed. If I sided with her, I aligned myself with the enemy.
I clenched my fists. Fire burned in my chest.
“The princess is correct.” My voice cracked like iron on stone. “The girl obeyed. The fault lies not with her but with conflicting orders.”
Gasps. Whispers. The court recoiled, unsettled.
Vaeloria’s head tilted slightly, unreadable. Iriel’s smirk deepened, though the flicker in his eyes betrayed surprise.
The steward who had barked the order paled beneath his mask. “I, ”
“Enough,” Vaeloria said smoothly. “The girl is spared.”
The servant scrambled away, tears streaking her face.
The hall buzzed. Masks shifted uneasily. For the first time, the dragon prince and the Fae princess had stood together.
Later, when the banquet thinned and the music dulled, I found myself at her side. Too close, too dangerous. The scent of her perfume lingered, subtle and maddening.
She did not look at me as she said, low enough that only I could hear, “Even suspicious, you followed my lead.”
Her lips curved faintly, almost a smile, almost a taunt.
Heat coiled low in me again, anger and desire tangled until I could not tell them apart.
I should have denied her. I should have snarled that it meant nothing. Instead, I said nothing at all.
Because she was right.
And it had worked.
I stood there, silent, watching her slip away into the sea of masks, her twilight gown trailing like smoke, and I felt the bars of the cage close tighter around me.
And gods help me, I wanted her still.
Chapter 8
Elowyn
The castle breathed with me. Shadowspire’s lamps guttered in their sconces, silver ward-flame shivering along the corridors as if the stone itself tasted what I was about to do. My palms were cool; my pulse was not. I walked alone, veil unpinned, the long spill of twilight silk whispering behind me as I took the turn that led to the wing they had given the dragons.
Two guards straightened as I approached. They did not bar my path. Of course they didn’t. The court had arranged the stage and waited for us to stumble into it.
Rhydor’s door was unlatched. The air inside held that thin metallic tang I had begun to recognize as his, iron and heat, as if a forge lived beneath his skin. He stood by the window that pretended at stars, shoulders broad, cloak thrown over a carved chair. The false constellations drifted slow and cold across the ceiling, but the room felt warm the instant his attention turned toward me.
