Page 64 of Princess of Thorns and Ruin

Of course, Alec Beaumont is merely fulfilling his mission. When this is all over, he’ll return to France for his next orders. He’s no doubt eager to return to his assassin ways. Despair settles in my bones, my tongue parched and dry. I’ve drank too much wine and not enough blood. I’m holding in too much sorrow.

“When are you leaving?” I enunciate the words slowly, trying to regain my composure.

“A couple of days after the wedding—at most.”

I nod in understanding, my throat tight and painful. He was here to see his princess safely to her destiny, but his talents will not be wasted with the likes of a foreign queen. Starting tomorrow, that’s all I’ll ever be. I’ll stop being a Delacroix as soon as the Elder confirms the union. Arielle Pereira will waste away in a court of thorns and ruin, and no one will mourn her.

“Goodnight, Mr. Beaumont,” I breathe as I slip inside the confines of my room.

Just thinking about the way he pressed his hand on the small of my back earlier dizzies me, and a tiny voice in my head whispers for me to say something more, to beg him to stay, but I resist the urge to make a fool of myself. If he’s leaving, then that’s that. I can’t afford to add a broken heart to my list of problems.

Chapter 24

Duty

ARIELLE

The door shuts behind me with a soft thud, and I walk to the back of the room, unfastening the heavy necklace Felipe gave me. Leo stands up from the decorative chair in the corner, the Pereira-appointed chaperone at his side, and the beast inside me screams to be let out, my thirst for him only heightened by all the emotions running wild between us.

I muffle a quiet sob with my hand as I hand him the necklace. “Good evening, Leo.” I turn to his companion, trying to convey exactly how much his presence irks me. “I’ve decided to retire early, and I’m hungry. Would you be so kind as to take this to Bella, my seamstress, and ask her to adjust the wedding dress’ neckline to fit with this…thing.”

I know he’s here to spy on Leo and I, but he can’t oppose such a direct order, so he takes the necklace from me. “Immediately, your grace.”

I sit on the chaise lounge to pry off my heels as he leaves. Leo’s tall, muscular frame hovers above me, so I risk a glance in his direction. A white t-shirt sticks to his skin, the humid air of this new continent lacing his usual scent with hints of night jasmine, liquor, and sunshine. The squeeze in my gut almost compels me to bite him, the need to touch him almost imperious.

Air whistles out of his mouth, his face ashen. “I know this wedding isn’t what you want.”

I place my hands flat on my thighs. “It’s my duty.”

His eyes soften, and he looks at me straight in the eyes for the first time since the bathtub incident. “I understand.”

“You mean because you did the same?” I stand, our bodies barely a hair’s-width apart, the few inches he has on me so noticeable in the dim light. I search his face for the truth. “Tell me. I’m tired of you walking on eggshells. Tell me being my first-blood wasn’t what you wanted.”

He licks his lips, looking everywhere but at me. “Alright, it wasn’t what I wanted.”

My jaw ticks at the pain in his voice, but I force a deep breath down my lungs and try to keep my voice from sounding too reproachful as I ask, “Then why did you come to the choosing ceremony?”

He pauses for an entire minute, but I patiently await his response. Some words are simply harder to find than others. “My mother was sick. Our family’s candidate had just died in an accident, so the Bringer promised a magical cure for my mother in exchange for my presence at the ceremony.”

The sweet tremble of his voice melts my heart, and my chest heaves, his honesty poignant and raw. I don’t mention the fact that, with one word from him, one inkling of how he truly felt, all of this could have been avoided. It wouldn’t be kind to mention it, and—truth be told—I’m still glad I chose him. “And you hate me for choosing you.”

His gaze darts to the ground, almost as heart-wrenching and elusive as his quick, “Yes.”

My throat constricts to the point of being almost unusable. “And now?”

“I don’t hate you, princess.”

The admission allows for a tiny flicker of hope, and a sad smile tugs at my lips. “That’s a start. Maybe from now on, we could be more honest with each other?”

He smiles back, the sight almost divine. “I think that’s a good idea.”

I motion for him to sit on the nearby chair and open my mouth to ask about his bruise but decide against it, his earlier reaction still fresh in my mind. He seems to be opening up, and I don’t want to startle him back into silence. I trust him to tell me when he’s ready, so I choose an equally important, but less intrusive, subject. “Why do you want the bite to be painful?”

He strokes his neck back and forth, eyes cast down. “Because I don’t want to like it. It feels wrong.”

My brows pull together, and I feel like I’m still missing a piece of the Leo puzzle. “Maybe you just don’t want to like me?”

He ponders my hypothesis with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, like he hasn’t really looked at it this way before. “Perhaps.”

---