Page 16 of Spearcrest Prince

I just don’t want it to happen in front of me or anybody who knows me.

“She doesn’t have any friends here,” Kay says haughtily, “and she’s engaged to a Young King. If you weren’t going to welcome her into Spearcrest, then somebody had to.”

“And who put you in charge of that job exactly?” I relax back into my seat, but my voice is cold and cutting. “Nobody asked you to do this. Anaïs isn’t your toy, Kay, nor am I—not anymore. If you want some little plaything to amuse yourself with, then find your own. Anaïs is mine.”

“You don’t own her,” Kayana says, crossing her arms.

“I never said I did. But she’s engaged to me, not to you.”

“If you care so much about her, then you would have brought her here.”

“Oh, I never said I care, Kay. In fact, I don’t give a single flying fuck about her.” I resist the urge to add that I care as little for Anaïs as Kay cared for me when she broke my heart and betrayed my trust. “You coming in here to start a fight over Anaïs is a bore to me. We never let things between us get ugly, so let’s not do so now. Anaïs isn’t your concern or your business. Stay in your lane, and I’ll stay in mine.”

“You’re so rude,” Kay says, shaking her head in disgust.

She’s not wrong in this instance. When I need them to be, my manners can be exquisite. I can be the most courteous high-society gentleman. But right now, I’m drunk, bored and in a terrible mood. The last thing I need is Kayana Kilburn, the girl who strung me along and threw me away like so much garbage, giving me shit over my own fiancée.

“Yeah, yeah.” I wave a dismissive hand. “You’re usually more fun than this, Kay. Are you not getting any action lately?”

She glares at me. “I’m getting more than you.”

“I get plenty.”

“Not tonight, since Anaïs clearly rejected you.”

“Rejected me?” I sit up, shocked by a lightning bolt of anger. “Is that what she said?”

“No.” Kayan smirks. “I was guessing. But thanks for confirming it.”

“How did I confirm it?”

She shrugs and, with that self-satisfied smirk, turns and leaves the booth.

The rest of the night is a complete failure. I try to make the most of it, but nothing works. I dance with pretty girls—girls my type, in sparkly dresses with beautiful doll faces and sweet, easy temperaments, but nothing happens. It’s like I’m dancing with paper dolls. I just end up bored, moving from one to the next.

I even kiss a girl during a slower song, and she receives and returns my kiss, lovely and pliant, her lip gloss tasting of strawberries. But it leaves me completely dead inside. It doesn’t give me so much as a goosebump.

In the end, I leave the club with Iakov, and the evening rapidly devolves from here on out. The night flashes past: stumbling alongside the Thames, leaning over a bridge to throw up in the rain, a seedy club with a black door and a sign in flickering red neon that readsNosebleed. Smashed liquor bottles, heavy metal music, Iakov with his shirt off beating someone up—or getting beaten up, or both.

Knowing him… probably both.

The night ends with a blackout, but at least I’m no longer thinking about Anaïs.

Chapter 7

Le Roi Soleil

Anaïs

AcceptingKay’sinvitationtogo partying teaches me several crucial things.

One: that London is exactly as dark, crowded and chaotic as it’s described in books and poems–like Paris if Paris had been dipped in grey paint and moody cynicism.

Two: that clubs are stressful and pretentious, not at all like the parties I used to go to in Aurigny. They’re full of people with expensive clothes, who are wearing too much perfume and dancing to loud, repetitive music. At least in Aurigny, we always had the sun, or at night, the starlight, the beach, the sea.

A good party in Aurigny meant laughter, joy and skinny-dipping in the pink light of dawn. Here, the marker of a good party seems to be how much money you’re willing to pay for alcohol.

Three: that people in England drink like absolute crazy. They drink aggressively, recklessly, obsessively. Not for the fun of it, not even for the buzz. They drink out of habit, joylessly, to obliteration.

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