Page 88 of A Bride for the Winter King
The crowd goes wild for it. Our gazes meet across the stage for a split second, and my chest heaves, the rush of heat between my breasts almost too intense for me to bear.
Paul chuckles as the clip ends. “You two certainly have sizzling chemistry, but what our viewers want to know is how Lori Lovegood ended up hanging upside down from that sleigh. Let’s hear from her, shall we?” He shifts in his chair to face me. “Lori, why did you risk it all? Why didn’t you stay on the dragon’s back?”
I suck in air. “I—I just couldn’t let him fall.”
Heartfeltawwsand soft applause echo across the audience.
I need Elio to hold my gaze so I can vanquish the unease in my belly. I want the crowd to disappear so it can be just us. A fluttering sensation scatters across my chest. I want to spend the night in his arms. And make him laugh. I want to marry him so we can break his curse—together.
Maybe Seth is right, and I’ve actually lost my mind.
Paul jolts me out of my epiphany. “I can’t begin to grasp the athletics necessary to slide down that chain and tilt upside down like that. You must be in very good shape.”
My eyes narrow. I don’t like his congenial tone one bit, and he seems to want to make some kind of point with it. “I am.”
“Some have said that a mortal would need magic to achieve such a feat.” Paul’s eyes dance. “Are they wrong?”
“Err—”
Paul angles himself to the crowd and cameras and serves the viewers an exaggerated sigh. “I think it’s obvious to everyone here that Lori isn’t the Spring seed she pretends to be. After her truly impressive stunt—after she saved our king—it pains me to acknowledge it, but the rules of the pageant are all too clear. Thebrides that participate in the Yule pageant must come from the first kingdoms. Isn’t that right, Your Majesty?”
“Yes,” Elio croaks.
My heart shrivels at the disingenuity of the exchange. Paul’s speech. Elio’s answer. It’s allstaged.
The host tips his head forward for a moment, his shoulders hunched in defeat. “It’s a pity, but the brave woman we’ve come to love isn’t eligible to win, and is, as of this moment, disqualified.” He draws in a deep breath, letting the news sink in, waiting for the crowd to settle down before he nails the punchline. “Which means Daisy Sinclair will be our new queen.”
Sara strolls back on stage with a bushel of blue roses, and fucking confetti rains from the ceiling. “Congratulations, Daisy.”
The lens of the closest camera zooms in on my face, and I squint at it, only vaguely aware of the unhappy chatter in the audience.
“The wedding will take place tonight, so the sacred rites of the solstice can be celebrated by the king—and our new queen—at the stroke of midnight,” Paul announces. He turns to Daisy with a questioning smile. “How are you feeling, Daisy?”
Sara scurries over to me in the guise of shaking the loser’s hand. “Let’s talk after this.”
A cruel snigger bubbles out of my mouth. I watch, petrified, as Elio grabs Daisy’s hand and pecks her lips, my Spring friend pale as snow, her heart probably about to shrivel and die, too.
Oxygen is sparse as I tear every ounce of shadows from the stage to shield myself from the pity glances of the crowd and the vicious intrusion of the cameras. I take it all. The shade under the chairs, the gloom between the velvet cushions—even the darkness draped over Elio’s face.
And I run.
Chapter 35
Piano Man
ELIO
The familiar glide of the piano notes under my fingertips leaves me hollow, and the flawless melody only exacerbates the dissonant agony at the pit of my stomach. After the announcement, Lori ran out of the ballroom cloaked in shadows so thick, I couldn’t track her.
She left without saying goodbye.
My lovely spider. My pyre of hopes.
Given the circumstances, I thought she’d be relieved not to have to go through with a sham wedding.
The discreet creak of the hinges grates my raw nerves, but I let out a sigh of relief as I stop playing. The sensual bite of Lori’s shadow magic sweeps across the secluded tower. She couldn’t leave without seeing me after all. Judging by her expression back on that stage, she probably came to curse me to the seven hells, but it’s better than nothing.
“I can hear you, little spider,” I croak. Shame and guilt are like ashes in my mouth, breaking down the words.
