His face splits into a smile that seems almost too shy to be worn by a royal. “Miss Gray, will you be my partner to balls?”
I nearly choke on the next breath I suck in. And yet, instead of answering his question, a pointless one of my own falls from my lips with a breathy laugh. “Since when have I been Miss Gray?”
A sly smile replaces his shy one, reminding me briefly of his brother. “Since you started referring to me as ‘the future king.’”
“And you don’t like that? Me calling you the future king, that is.” My curiosity forces the question from my mouth since I assumed he was quite attached to the title and the power accompanying it.
“I’d rather not be called by a title I haven’t earned or lived up to yet,” he says simply.
“That’s why I called you the future king.”
He smiles, content to let the silence stretch between us before he finally says, “You never answered my question, Miss Gray.”
I hear the offer in his voice, see the silent question in those eyes I keep avoiding. Say yes to being his partner, and we will simply be Kitt and Paedyn. Say no, and the titles remain.
Say yes, and I play the part.
Say no, and I pass up the opportunity to please the people.
The thought of hanging off the future king’s arm and looking up at the similar face of my father’s killer isn’t personally pleasant, but it would be for the people of Ilya. I would undeniably have their attention—a terrifying yet tempting thought.
A smile lifts my lips at the image of a former Slummer and future ruler hand in hand, the perfect picture of polar opposites.
The most powerful man paired with the most powerless woman.
“It would be an honor to be your partner, Kitt,” I say softly, smiling slightly.
Play the part.
Kitt chuckles, sounding relieved. “I was hoping you would say that, Paedyn.”
“Ellie. Help. Please.”
I’m staring at my wardrobe, driving myself mad looking at all the colors and styles of gowns hanging inside. “Which one should I wear for the ball? I need to make a good impression—”
“Yes, you do, and you won’t with one of those dresses,” Ellie cuts me off, laughing softly.
I tip my head back and groan. “What’s wrong with one of these?” I gesture to the multiple dazzling dresses at my disposal.
“Those,” she points at the wardrobe, “are no ball gowns. Though, you’d certainly make an impression if you wore one of them. Just not a good one.”
“So, what now?” I can’t keep the irritation from bubbling out of me.
Clearly, Ellie noticed because she says softly, “We’ll need to have a dress made for you. Immediately. I know several excellent seamstresses who could fix you up a beautiful gown in no time, you’ll just need to pick out the style and shade of green.”
Apparently, it is common knowledge that the women tend to wear green gowns to these balls, seeing that emerald is Ilya’s kingdom color. It isn’t a set rule, but something everyone simply does. Typical. Tradition.
Tiresome.
Ellie carries on about the seamstresses she knows, how wonderful their work is.
And then it hits me. I know a seamstress, lived with one.
I’m suddenly crushed by the weight of what I’ve done. No, what I haven’t done.
Adena.
The promise I made to her rings in my head, a reminder of how I’d forgotten about her. I vowed to visit her, and yet, only remembered to do so as soon as it was convenient for me.
I’m gripped by guilt, nearly choking from its tight grasp around my throat. I swallow, silently cursing myself for my selfishness.
But this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been selfish when it comes to Adena.
I was selfish the night she found me on the roof of a shop two years ago, hurt and hysterical and hoping for someone to just understand. The rain rolled down my face as I studied the stars, mingling with my tears and stinging the fresh cuts I’d received from an Imperial that morning. Adena pulled herself over the edge of the roof before breathlessly telling me how she was certain she’d find me up there, just as she’d been certain to never again be scaling a shop.
But her smile slipped when her eyes slid to me shaking in the streaming rain, hugging my knees. I was tired. Tired of trying to be something I wasn’t while no one knew what I was.
So I decided to study the sky that night, spotting similarities between us. I was lonely in a way that I imagine the stars to be, observed by everyone yet too far to truly be seen.
And for once, I wanted to be seen by someone.
It was selfish of me to tell Adena about my past, present, and everything in between. Just knowing about what I am puts her in danger, and yet, we’ve only grown closer despite that.
She believed me. She listened as the truth spilled from me in a sob, stayed with me even after knowing what I am.
And I’ve never been more relieved about a moment of weakness.
“Ellie,” I say slowly, deliberately. “What if I know of a seamstress?”
She thinks for a moment before answering with a shrug. “That would be fine. Did you meet someone here? In the palace?”
“No, she’s from Loot.” Ellie gives me a skeptical look, but I barrel on. “She’s incredible. I can guarantee she would make me the finest dress Ilya’s ever seen.”
“Well, I suppose I could talk to Lenny about escorting you there to get her.” She quickly adds, “As long as he is allowed too.”
My brows knit together. “Get her?”
“Oh yes. If you get clearance to go, she’ll come back with you and be hired here as your personal seamstress until the Trials are over. Or until...” she trails off.
The rest of her words are drowned out by the blood pounding in my ears, and my heart is racing so quickly I feel as though I’m in the middle of a fight.
Adena is going to live here. With me.
She’ll be fed and paid. I’ll get to see her. She’ll be safe. Relief washes over me, feebly attempting to replace the guilt I still feel.
Ellie promises she’ll speak to Lenny about taking me to Loot before saying goodnight and slipping out the door.
I flop onto my bed, staring up at the intricate molding on the ceiling. I’m not sure how long I lay there, letting the hope and happiness wash over me at the thought of seeing Adena safe and sound.
And then a light knock at the door has my thoughts shattering.
Chapter Nineteen
Paedyn
It must be nearly midnight, so who the Plagues is that?
I grip the handle of my dagger and slide it out from beneath my pillow, holding it loosely at my side as I pad across the floor. When I swing open the door, my eyes meet the pair of gray ones on the other side.
Kai’s gaze drops to the dagger in my hand before returning to my face, lingering on my bruised cheekbone and split lip that he so generously gave me in our fight this morning. My pride wouldn’t allow the Healers to tend to my injuries, and unsurprisingly, the prince seemed to have the same problem. Faint bruises have bloomed across his jaw, a reminder of each blow I landed.