Page 94 of The Prince from a Cruel Summer
“And who are you?” Her hazelnut eyes gleam with a crimson spark.
“Elizabeth Snow. I’m Willow’s kindred.”
She smiles at me—not the same smile she gave Thera or Willow. This one reaches the corners of her eyes, brimming with both joy and curiosity. “I have a feeling you and I will get along perfectly.”
I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth.
She knows.I don’t know how, but in one glance, this woman sees the truths of my blood and lineage—and appears thrilled by it. Yet, when her attention shifts back to the Summer Queen, a strange calm washes over me. It’s as if her gaze carried both an unspoken acknowledgment of my true nature and a silent promise to keep it hidden.
“Mabel, can I discuss something with you in private?” Thera asks.
The two women step aside for a private chat while the rest of us huddle closer together.
“Who’s that?” I ask Ezra, pointing to the young girl who sneaked into the chapel behind Mabel.
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t look at her. She’s so boring, and she’s going to want to come over—hey, Brit. This is Elizabeth Snow, Willow’s kindred.”
“Are you a relative of Mabel?” I ask.
“No, I’m Aidan’s date, actually.”
Wonderful.Being in Aidan’s home, it was inevitable that we’d run into each other sooner or later. Still, my body warms at the mere mention of him.
Even though I know he couldn’t have asked me, it still stings that he chose some snobbish, beautiful blonde to accompany him to Willow’s wedding. His last letter implied he was unaware of his sister’s plan to name me as her kindred, but surely he knows by now.
Willow shifts restlessly beside us. “And my dear brother left you to your own devices. Typical,” she laments.
Why is she even here? No one else’s date is here; only the wedding party.
Thera and Mabel rejoin our circle, and we spend a few minutes discussing the cascades, rivers, gardens, and waterfalls—the royal equivalent of small talk.
“We should really get started,” Mabel announces.
“Yes, but we’re still one short for the rehearsal.” Thera presses her lips together, clearly annoyed.
“Are we waiting for the Summer King?” I ask quietly.
Willow shakes her head. “Oh no, my father doesn’t bother with these things. We need Ezra’s kindred.”
“Aidan,” Ezra supplies with a discreet wink.
“Not Elio?” I remark, struggling to catch up.
“Elio’s playing music during the ceremony,” Willow explains.
Loud footsteps draw our attention to the entrance of the chapel, Aidan half-running through the door, and my heart gives a giant, debilitating squeeze.
He’s dressed in all the bells and whistles of a Fae prince, two rows of gold buttons running down the front of his waistcoat, clashing against the midnight-black velvet that emphasizes his large shoulders.
A sharp throb pulses through my belly.
“You’re late.” Willow huffs, hands braced on her hips, turning away from her brother just as he opens his mouth to justify his tardiness.
“I know, I know. I was just—” His gaze lands on me, enveloping me in his attention better than a blanket, as if everyone else faded from the room—or perhaps the world itself. “Beth. You’re already here.”
Surprise flickers across his face before he blinks it away, his apologetic, lopsided grin stretching into a smile that’s smooth and rich as butter, yet subdued. Secret. Just for me.
Without meaning to, I tilt forward on my treacherous heels, my body yearning for his warmth even as my mind steels itself to stay away.
