Just the thought unbalanced her.
Since her father was a governor, Tella had been taught all the proper manners for banqueting with nobles, but she’d never been very good at following them. And she knew nothing about dining with royalty.
She took another plumeria from the thinned bouquet.
A chuckle floated from the doorway to her bedroom.
Tella spun away from her vanity to spy Jacks, leaning against the frame.
She’d expected that for once he’d make an attempt to look regal. But like the night of the Fated Ball, Jacks didn’t even have a coat. He wore a loose shirt the color of spilled brandy, with ripped shoulders that made it look as if he’d torn off some sort of ornamentation, hanging untucked over burnt auburn trousers that were shoved into unpolished leather boots. Casual was too fancy of a word to describe him, yet magic still pulsed around him in a glow of burning copper.
In one ungloved hand he held a fresh apple, as white and bright as a virgin’s sheets. “Good evening, Donatella.”
“You know it’s not polite to sneak into a young lady’s room.”
“I think we left politeness behind a while ago. But”—Jacks shoved away from the doorframe in one lithe movement and offered her his arm—“I promise to be on my best behavior tonight.”
“That doesn’t say much.” Tella smoothed her full skirts as she stood up from her perch. The gown she wore felt heavier than any of the others Jacks had sent. One half of it was unadorned pearl-blue silk, the other was an ornate combination of jeweled swirls, twilight-blue velvet flowers, and glacier-blue lace embellishments, which spilled down her skirt in a haphazard combination that reminded Tella of a knocked-over jewelry box.
“Don’t worry,” Jacks said. “I’m sure El will adore you.”
“Did you just refer to the empress as El?”
“‘Elantine’ is such a mouthful.”
“You call me Donatella.”
“I like the way it tastes.” Jacks’s teeth broke the skin of his apple slowly, revealing deep red flesh as he took a wide bite.
Tella forced herself to accept his arm, knowing that any signs of discomfort and displeasure only seemed to give him delight. But to her surprise he behaved like a gentleman as they traveled up the steps of Elantine’s golden tower to meet the empress on the topmost floor.
Jacks held Tella’s arm lightly enough that she could have pulled away at any time, more focused on his apple than on her, until after a few flights of stairs. He dropped her arm and turned to face her, abruptly.
His sharp teeth bit into his lips instead of his piece of fruit, while his quicksilver eyes danced over her hair. Tella had lost several flowers on the stairs. It was probably for the best. Yet Jacks began to frown as he took her in.
“What is it?” Tella asked.
“The empress needs to believe we’re in love.” He paused, as if carefully choosing his next words. “My situation with El is complicated. If I could kill her, I would, but there are protections on her that prevent me. And though she’s old, she’s not close to dying. She is, however, close to passing on her throne to me. But that won’t happen until I’ve found someone she believes is suitable to share it with me.”
“And you think I’m that someone?” A laugh accompanied Tella’s words.
But Jacks did not smile. “You convinced Legend to help you, you died and came back to life, and you dared to kiss me. Of course you’re that someone.” He held her eyes for a moment before his gaze swept past her.
Tella followed the line of his eyes to a mirror hanging on the wall. It reflected both of them. To Tella’s astonishment, Jacks appeared different in the mirror; it must have been incapable of capturing his true essence. With his ripped shirt and unpolished boots, he still looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed or fallen from a low window—but he also appeared younger, more boyish, mischievous rather than evil incarnate. His eyes were a bright shade of blue without any cold hints of silver. His skin was still pale, but there was a hint of color in his cheeks and a subtle curve to his mouth that made him look as if he were on the verge of saying something naughty.
“You’re staring at the wrong person, darling.” Jacks gently pressed a hand to her cheek, shifting her view so that Tella saw her own reflection.
She had sat in front of a mirror pinning flowers into her hair for more than an hour, but she hadn’t looked at herself, not really. Sometimes when she gazed in the mirror she swore she saw Death’s shadow instead of her own. But as she peered at her reflection now, she did not see Death. Her skin glowed, not just with color from climbing up the stairs, but with life capable of days and weeks and seasons of adventures not yet had. Beside her, Jacks suddenly looked even paler in comparison. His glow meant he would never die of natural causes or mortal wounds, but her radiance meant she would truly live.
“Other people might underestimate you, Donatella, but I don’t.”
Tella tried not to feel anything at his words. All her life she’d been underestimated, by her father who thought she was useless, her sister who loved her but feared she couldn’t stay out of trouble, her nana who thought of her as only a nuisance; Tella even underestimated herself at times. It was almost cruel that the one who seemed to believe in her the most was the same being who was also slowly killing her.
“If I fail, will you kill me early, the same way you murdered your last fiancée?”
Jacks’s expression shuttered. “I didn’t kill her.”
“Then who did?”
“Someone who didn’t want me to take the throne.”
Jacks dropped his apple, letting it roll down the stairs as he took Tella’s arm. He held her a little closer than before, almost protectively, but he stayed silent as they continued climbing, as if her mention of his former fiancée had genuinely upset him. Perhaps if Tella believed him she would have felt guilty. But he was the Prince of Hearts, and everyone knew the prince was not capable of love. The stories said he had one true love, but Tella doubted he’d found her. And given how casually he’d mentioned wishing he could kill the empress, Tella doubted Jacks was affected by the loss of one human life.
“Why does the throne matter to you so much?” Tella asked after a few more steps. “As a Fate I’d think you wouldn’t want to be burdened by mortal power.”
“Maybe I like the idea of wearing a crown.” Jacks tilted his head, letting more golden hair fall into his eyes. “Have you seen the emperor’s crown?”
“I can’t say I have.” But Tella had witnessed how carelessly Jacks dressed, and even if that weren’t the case, she couldn’t imagine the Prince of Hearts would fight so hard to be the heir simply so he could wear a crown.
She was about to ask what was so special about this crown when they finally stopped their ascent.
Tella hadn’t counted the number of flights they’d taken, but she imagined they were near the top of the tower. Two black lacquered doors waited for them, with guards dressed in full armor standing on either side. They must have recognized Jacks. Without a word the guards opened the doors.
Candles fell from every inch of a white ceiling, like waxy, glowing raindrops, filling the domed room with flickering spires of marigold light. Tella only had a moment to take it all in, to glance at the steam rising from the elaborate feast beneath the candles and the intricately carved stage on the other side of the room, before a feminine voice burst through the silence.
“You’re finally here!” Empress Elantine rose from a seat at the end of the banquet table.
Tella had expected a pale specter of a woman, thin and bony and colder than her nana Anna, but Elantine was full rosy cheeks, dark olive skin, and a round body that looked as if it would be very soft to hug.