Page 35 of The Cerise

I steady my guilt, realizing that eating the strawberry is better than it winding up in a landfill. I take a bite, and it’s sweetness is heaven in my mouth.

With no other girls to be presented, the ballroom flows into an assortment of conversation and dancing. I lean against the table and take in the faces of tonight’s company. I don’t know any of the families invited, and aside from Jinx’s white hair, nothing about a single person in the room stands out. Most of the women fade into blobs of muted color, while the men are blurs of brown slacks and white shirts. There was clearly a dress code I overlooked, and while my indiscretion may have made me more noticeable to Prince Sebastian, it also makes me a little insecure.

Had I known what was expected, that everyone would follow some unwritten rule, I might have chosen a different dress and tried harder to blend in so that only my hair stood out. Not all of me.

“Looking for someone special, little bird?” Bash asks, sneaking up on me with that cheeky, lopsided grin on his lips.

I startle, having forgotten my senses are off kilter regarding this man. They should have alerted me someone was getting close. Then again, there are people everywhere. I should be grateful not to be overloaded, but the fact that Bash evades my magic is frustrating.

“I thought I recognized a friend from last night. Seems I was mistaken.”I turn my back to him and peruse the table of treats for the guests to enjoy, even though the knots in my stomach tighten.

Bash chuckles, a step behind me. “You were quite bold out there. Not sure many would speak so openly to a royal.”

The warmth from his closeness wraps me like a blanket. I could fall into his arms and disappear in the comfort. The realization that I want to lean into him is startling. I’ve learned touch is one of my triggers and have avoided it for years. Yet, something about Bash makes me want to know what it feels like.

I reach for a blueberry tart, intending to pick at it, and pretend to nibble on the jelly inside. The thought of actually eating anything makes me want to puke, but the alternative of letting my guard down and satisfying the urge to touch Bash isn’t an option. “I thought it was an adequate conversation to have with one of the Crown’s soldiers. Didn’t you?”

Bash’s eyes sparkle with mischief as he leans in to whisper, “I’ll keep your secret, little bird, if you’ll keep mine.”

I side-eye the prince and nod once, relieved to know where we stand. Last night never happened. We’ve never met before this evening, and no one knows I’m tied to Ezra.

I should be grateful. I could be in the dungeons as a prisoner, trapped, unable to find, let alone free my friend. Knowledge is dangerous and I know not only about a secret village, but also that a blood witch is making her way through the kingdom.

I pick the sugar crystals off the pastry and break the tart in half. As I lift it off the plate, Bash takes the little blue pastry from my fingers and pops the treat into his mouth, stark white teeth hiding behind a vicious smile.

“Well, that was rude.” I sound more teasing than irritated, and Bash has a look that tells me he knows what he’s doing to me and likes it.

My heart races simply from being near him. It soars from hearing his voice. And when his fingers brushed against mine to take the tart, I think it might’ve skipped a beat. But despite what my heart might think it wants and what my body is urging me to do, I refuse to be a pawn in the prince’s game of lust.

"I’ve done you a favor. As such.” He licks his fingers and stars above; it is the most delicious sight I have ever seen. I clear my throat, embarrassedeven though no one knows how I feel, and scowl. “You’ll return the sentiment.”

"Really? I’m dying to know how I landed in your debt,Prince Sebastian." I exaggerate his name, pretending to be a love-struck damsel, and his eyebrows draw together into a firm line.

“Bash. Never call me Sebastian.” He pauses, all playfulness gone for a split second, then adds, “I’ve saved your life." He plucks the other half of the tart off of my plate. He takes a smaller bite, leaving me a fraction of the pastry to enjoy, and sets it back on my platter. "Every royal family member should have a taster to ensure their food hasn’t been tampered with. I may have just saved your life again. For the record, this tart is fine. It’s a little sweet for my taste, but it won’t kill you. You can eat it."

"You know, I think I’ve lost my appetite." I set the plate on the cloth-covered table and then meander to a different side of the room, with no clear destination. My only goal: to get away from the prince.

He doesn’t take the hint or move to talk to any of the other ladies. He stays by my side, wordlessly letting me dictate where we go. People follow him with their gazes, which means they’re watching me, too. My senses spike, raising the little hairs on my arms, sending cold shivers down my spine, and pelting me with heat waves.

I pass Jinx as I cross the room. She tucks her long white hair behind her ears and bats her lashes at a well-dressed man. He has a deep purple sash across his chest, adorned with metals and pins. He’s older than us, but he looks at her like she is as precious as the moon in the sky. I want to say hello, to make Bash leave me alone, but I refuse to be a thorn in her rosebush of love.

Instead, I weave around the edge of the room, hoping someone will stop the prince and talk to him. A few girls try, but he politely refuses their advances and follows me like a puppy to his master. I can’t sense him with my magic, but I can physically feel him.

The heat that rolls off his body is stifling. The static that bounces between us is alluring. It is unnerving. I stop at the furthest end of the room, near the door I entered through, and pretend to look at a portrait of the royal family. Bash stops beside me, silently observing the picture he has probably seen more than a dozen times.

The hackles on the back of my neck stand again. I hold my breath, mystomach tight with anticipation, and wait. The unease grows inside me the longer Bash stares at the portrait. I want him to look at me. To talk to me. I hate myself for feeling like my next breath hangs on his words and almost wonder if the prince has somehow cursed me, like Ezra had, then think better of it.

His family kills Cerise. They don’t make deals with them. "How’s Ezra?"

"I’ll tell you if you honor me with a dance." Bash holds his palm out, and I swear all eyes are on me. Horrified looks meet my gaze from everyone in the room; even the band ceases playing. I feel like a fish in a bowl, on display for people to poke and prod at.

Bash looks at me, only me, oblivious to the unrest he’s created within the room.

"There is no music," I say sheepishly.

The first dance is an honor, rumored to be given to the future Queen of Arcane. Even if I wanted the Crown, and for the hype of being favored to be true, I doubt a single soul would respect me as their queen. Having me at his side would likely start a Civil war, something King Travers would easily kill me to prevent.

Bash holds up his hand and snaps. All at once, the band begins to play again. A soft melody with enough of a beat to encourage people to gather on the dance floor but not bold enough to force people's hands. Bash gives me a cheeky look as if he knew I would rebuke him with such a statement. "Anything else stopping you?"

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