Draped in midnight fabric, the faint sparkles dusting her dress wink like starlight. Like a shadow, the fabric clings to her body. Like a second skin, it outlines her curves as she steps down the stairs.
Her tanned arms and chest glisten against the inky fabric wrapped around her. From her waist up, the dress is a detailed corset, cinching her in and displaying her chest and collarbones. The stomach of the corset is see-through, with designs of swirling flowers and beads contrasting against the tan skin showing beneath it. Loose strips of black, intricate sleeves connect to the top of the corset and hang off her shoulders limply.
Layers of satin spill from her waist to the floor in a wide pool around her. My eyes trail up her bare legs, exposed through the slits traveling up both sides of the dress and ending high up her thighs. And there, strapped and displayed for all to see is her silver dagger, its swirled handle matching her attire.
Her silver hair is pulled into a loose not near the nape of her neck, ringlets falling from it onto her back and around her face, tempting me to twirl my fingers through them, tuck them behind her ears.
Every bit of her body is clad in darkness, cloaked in night. I find myself silently thanking the Plague for her different, dark attire because I wouldn’t want her blending in. Wouldn’t want her lost in the crowd.
Not that she’s ever had that problem before.
Not that I’ve ever had a problem finding her before.
The sight of her in jet black is enough to make me colorblind, make me see nothing and no one but her.
Her legs slide through the slits in her dress as she steps down the staircase, dagger clearly visible. Hundreds of eyes track her every move, and I’m suddenly jealous that everyone else gets to witness her presence with me.
She won’t meet my gaze, and for the first time since I met her in that alley, I think this is the most cowardly she’s ever been.
She’s scared. Scared of whatever it is between us. She always has been. That’s why she chose to be my enemy, my rival, rather than let herself feel—which is something I’m not accustomed to myself.
I blame her for it. Blame her for cracking my carefully crafted mask, shattering it to pieces when she is around. I’ve never felt so much, never feared so much. But if I must endure the consequences that feeling something for her brings, then so does she.
It’s like a tangible tether between us, this consuming connection.
I will her to meet my eyes, and when they do—
Sparks.
Electricity.
Everything beautiful, everything bold, everything breathtaking—that is what I feel in her gaze.
That, and terrified. Terrified of what she is doing to me.
She is a vision, a nightmare, a dream.
A grim reaper clad in black, come to steal my soul and my heart.
I’ve never seen something so beautiful, so bold, so blatantly wrong for me.
She is a devil.
She is a deity.
She is a man’s downfall in human form.
She is my downfall.
Then her eyes drift to Kitt.
The connection snaps.
And I’m left feeling empty besides the jealousy growing inside of me.
Why did I ever think I could have her, ever think she would have me?
Because beasts don’t get the beauty.
Chapter Fifty-One
Paedyn
I’m avoiding him. Not the best way to deal with a problem, I’ll admit. But Kai is a very pressing problem. A very desirable distraction.
So, I keep myself busy, though I still manage to notice that he is doing the same. Girl after gorgeous girl finds their way into his arms and onto the dance floor, all of them wearing glowing smiles and green dresses.
I bury the emotion I don’t want to identify as jealousy, though it claws at me nonetheless.
I have a job to do.
I turn my attention back to my partner for the dozenth time. Kitt smiles, continuing our easy conversation that my mind keeps wanting to wander from. I force myself to focus on his words rather than the thing I need to steal from him. We spin, and I catch a glimpse of the keyring against the inside of his suit coat pocket. My fingers twitch, itching to tap into the thieving instincts I’ve suppressed while in the castle—for the most part.
“You look beautiful.”
I startle at Kitt’s soft words, forcing my gaze up to meet his. He’s smiling at the look on my face as he says, “You shouldn’t be so shocked by that.”
We are quiet for a moment before I finally form words. “You shock me.”
“Do I?”
“Yes,” I answer honestly, “you are not what I expected.”
His grin looks almost too boyish to belong to the future king. “Did I disappoint?”
I wish.
“No.” His smile widens at the word, and I hurry to add, “Not yet.”
Then I’m dipping towards the floor and he’s chuckling above me as I suck in a surprised breath. He holds me there, and my opportunity arrives. This is the moment I’ve been dreading, been planning. His suit coat is open, his eyes are pinned on me, and his thoughts are on anything but the keys in his pocket.
So I do what I do best—thieve.
I fumble, pretending to slip, though it’s quite believable in the stilts I’m wearing. I throw my hands out to steady myself, one on his shoulder and one on his chest near the pocket inside his suit.
His arms wrap tighter around my waist as I hold his gaze, smiling even as I slip my hand into his pocket. Smiling even as I betray the boy who has been nothing but kind to me. Smiling even as the keyring opens, and I slide the largest one off the end, feeling the raised swirls that decorate it pressing into my palm.
He pulls me up slowly, strong arms standing me upright. But my hand is already out of his pocket and resting behind his shoulder, innocent and insignificant.
“And here I was, thinking your dancing was improving,” Kitt says with a teasing smile.
“And here I was, thinking you would warn me before sending my flying towards the floor.” I blow out a breath, smiling as I add, “And now I could use a drink.”
“Not too much to drink. You can barely remember the steps as it is.” He tosses me a grin before turning towards the drink table. “But I’ll get you one, nevertheless.”
I let out a shaky breath as I watch him walk into the crowd, my corset suddenly feeling far too tight. The key is slick in my palm, hot against my skin.
“May I have this dance?”
I spin around, my face close to one splattered with freckles. Lenny’s usually messy hair is combed, red strands tamed for the evening. He’s dressed in a fine black suit, blending in with the rest of the men around us.
“Why, of course,” I reply, forcing a smile to my lips. His hand finds my waist, mine finds his shoulder, and then our free hands meet.
The key is clasped between our palms, and Lenny gives me a wide smile at the feel of it. “Well done. Easy, right?”
My voice is distant, distracted. “Yeah. Easy.”
“You remember the plan?”
I sigh. “Well, I’m not really doing much, am I? Now all I have to do is survive the last Trial.”