Page 13 of Unveil
Sol’s voice grates through the noise. “She’d never drink before a performance.”
A response is on the tip of my tongue when the emcee fumbles and the music quiets. A man climbs the stairs to the stage, approaching a shocked Luna, who tries her best to act natural.
But I can see the forced ease in her shoulders, the tilt in her eyebrows. I canfeelher anxiety rolling off her in waves as the spotlight homes in on?—
“What the fuck?” Sol and I growl, both of us leaning forward to get a better look at Ozias crossing the stage.
He’s dressed in aSwan Lakecostume of all things, complete with a crossbow slung across his back that looks kind of like mine back in my car. And he’s carrying white roses.
Luna twists the gauzy tulle of her tutu and lightly bounces on her pointe shoes, a nervous tic she’s had since the first time I saw her a decade ago.
“Does that look like love, Bordeaux?” I snap, darting my eyes from him to her.
My vision tunnels, zeroing in on the stage where Ozias and Luna stand. The arms of my chair creak under my grip as he drones on about his bullshit feelings. Then…
He. Drops. To. One. God. Damn. Knee.
“What the fuck is he doing?” My voice hardly sounds like my own.
Ozias was supposed to be nothing to worry about. If the rumors are true, he has his own reasons for holding back.
Or so I thought.
But here I am seething as a ring glints in the spotlight. Luna’s face blanches to a sickly pale hue, made starker by the black feather crown and veil on her head.
He takes her hand, and I can’t hear a thing over the thunder in my ears.
Don’t do it, little bird. Don’t you?—
She glances to the crowd, searching for something, until she looks up.
All feeling drains from my body.
Is she looking at me? There’s no way she can see my murderous expression, but I will her to hear me anyway.
If you say yes, he’s a dead man. All bets are off.
She doesn’t take her eyes off mine as she crushes me with five words.
“Yes, Zy, I’ll marry you.”
The auditorium erupts in applause, swallowing up thecrackof wood underneath my hands as the antique chair’s arms break off. Ozias hugs her, giving her a chaste peck on the cheek.
I force myself to look away and focus all my fury on the man I was counting on to protect her whenever I couldn’t.
“Did you know about this?”
He doesn’t answer and I huff, shaking my head.
“Un-fucking-believable. You know what? You wanted to play ball, Bordeaux? Let’s play.”
His brow narrows as I continue, spitting all my venom.
“You think I don’t know your daughter? She wobbled in a turn she’s been perfecting since she was twelve, which means she took a celebratory shot between her performance and her bow. White roses are hermother’sfavorite flower, not hers. And she hates that Ozias made a night meant for everyone about her.” I jab my finger toward the stage. Sol’s jaw ticks. “I also know this is a mind game, and her ‘fiancé’s’ days are numbered. No one steals my wife.”
No one but me.
Sol stands slowly, the rage that was on his face a second ago now placid after my outburst, like a murky lake hiding clay that can suck you under if you dive too deep.
