The Crown Prophecy

Chapter 13

T he days passed in a blur of baking, helping Colette train, and dutifully ignoring all of my feelings about what had happened with Evander in the kitchen. He had sent a summons for me twice in a week, and I had flat out ignored both of them.

There wasn’t anything I could say that would make the situation better, especially when I wasn’t sure what I’d do if I found myself in the same position again. Though I’d like to think I wouldn’t let it get that far, the pull toward him that night had been so strong that it felt like I was powerless against it. It was hard to regret something that had felt so perfect.

“Hellloooooo? Quinn?” Colette broke me out of my thought spiral.

I forced my glazed eyes to push the world back into focus. “Sorry, Colette. One more time.”

She let out an exasperated sigh, but I knew from her gentle nudge at my side she wasn’t really mad. Her impish smile told me she knew exactly where my mind had been.

“Again?” she asked.

“I’m sorry,” I started.

“I meant the exercise,” she laughed. “But that too.”

“Oh. Of course.” I picked up one of the leather balls we had been using and lobbed it at her. A flowering vine darted out and batted it away harmlessly.

“You’re getting faster,” I observed, and Colette beamed.

Most afternoons were spent helping her practice her green-Wielding skills. I had stopped manning the refreshment table days ago. No one ever ate from it anyway, and half the time it was just the three of us in the ballroom in the afternoons. Mellie kept insisting I come up on serving duty, but I wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t just because she was so thrilled to see me making friends.

Vanessa strode over, three muffins held out in her right hand.

I was fairly certain I wasn’t supposed to eat these, but I had made them myself and ego aside, they were really good.

When I bit into the pastry, a warm blueberry burst in my mouth. The streusel on top complemented the tart fruit perfectly.

“Thank you,” I muttered around my mouthful of food.

“Well, someone’s got to serve the food around here,” she deadpanned.

“Oh yes. Thank you so much for taking time out of your busy practicing schedule ,” I quipped back.

She grinned at me, wide and unguarded.

Ever since I’d moved up to the third floor, Vanessa had become surprisingly tolerant of me. There was still a fair amount of eye rolling and sarcastic one-liners, but they were friendly. It felt less like I was being sized up at all times and more like I was in on the joke.

After polishing off her muffin in a few dainty bites, Colette brushed her hands on her skirt. “Word on the third floor is that they’re designing a specific test for each of us.”

Vanessa nodded in confirmation. “I’ve seen at least half a dozen closed-off rooms between the guest wing and here, and I’m willing to bet there are more,” Vanessa said. “One for each contestant if I had to guess. I’ve asked, but my mother won’t tell me anything. Honor and equity and all that,” she huffed.

“Are you nervous?” I asked.

“A little,” Colette said. “I’ve been working hard, and I doubt they’d put us in a situation that was genuinely dangerous, but . . .” she trailed off.

“Will all the trials all be held at once?” I asked. “Or are they staggering the times so the prince can attend them all?” I hoped Evander would take my suggestion and try casting with each Wielder to see how his Gift responded. I wanted him to find the right person to save his mother, even if I was ignoring the implications of what would happen after that. The idea of baking a cake for his wedding was like poison in my stomach.

“Nobody will tell us anything,” Vanessa complained. “At some point they’re going to have to let us know where to report, right?”

I shrugged and grabbed another of the leather balls off the table.

“Ready?” I asked Colette.

She groaned but took fifteen paces toward the center of the room and raised her arms in a defensive position.

“Let’s go again.”

. . .

It was my turn on the cleanup rotation that night. I stood in front of the washing station, my arms braced on the apron front sink, and hinged my hips backward to try to release some of the tension in my lower back. I was used to the physically demanding work of the kitchen, but adding training in the middle of the day had my body groaning in protest.

Still, the dishes needed to be done, and the sooner I did them, the sooner I could go back up to my room and collapse into my bed, which, I had to admit, was probably the most comfortable thing I had ever slept on.

“Need some help?” Mellie’s familiar warm voice came from behind me.

I waved her off. “Go rest, Mels. I’ve got this under control. Just taking a minute to breathe.”

“You look exhausted,” she said, looking at my wan complexion. “No offense dear, but I’ve seen more color than that on a raw turkey.”

I laughed as she nudged me over to one side and we began to work in tandem. A few minutes passed in comfortable silence, the only sounds the clinking of plates and running water.

“Something going on, Dumpling?” Mellie asked after a while.

“Just tired.” I smiled at her. I didn’t like this version of me that lied so easily to my oldest friend, but if I started to think about it too hard, the carefully fastened armor I had erected around my heart would come clattering down, and I wasn’t sure if I had the energy to build it back up again.

Still, Mellie’s company was always a balm for my soul, and when we finished the cleanup early, I found I wasn’t ready to be alone again yet. Colette and Vanessa had plans, so I invited Mellie up to my room for a cup of tea.

We trekked up together, and while my friend arrived on the third floor with her floral-pattern cup still full of steaming chamomile, I had managed to slosh mine all over the stairs no fewer than three times. Somehow, I avoided spilling on myself, which was lucky, as I was too tired to change.

I strode into the room and set my cup on the writing desk.

When I turned around, Mellie was gaping like a fish as she took in the room around her.

“Quinny, this is . . .” she spun around slowly, her eyes lingering on the ornate detailing of the millwork, the linens that looked as if they cost more than what I would make in a month, and the piano in the corner.

“I know,” I sighed.

“But why?” She eyed me suspiciously. Mellie had always been a little too good at sniffing out when I was keeping something from her.

“Do I have to answer that?” My face contorted into a grimace.

She tilted her head to the side, trying to read my expression, and crossed over to me, taking my hands in hers.

“What aren’t you telling me, Dumpling?”

Sure my voice would betray me, I shook my head at her. She pulled me into a firm hug.

“It’s not my place to tell you how to live your life, Quinn, but please be careful. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Too late for that.

“I just need a distraction right now, Mels,” I said.

Taking a brisk step back, she wiped her hands on her apron.

“That I can do.” She strode over to the piano and sighed wistfully, running her fingers over the ivory keys. “This is beautiful. I used to play when I was a girl.”

“Do you still remember how?” I asked, thinking of the sheet music that I had yet to attempt.

“A little,” she said, sitting down on the bench. She scooted all the way to the left and patted the spot next to her. It was a tight fit with us both there, but the closeness made me smile.

“This is middle C,” she said, tapping a key in the center a few times. It was loud. I looked toward the door, hoping we weren’t disturbing anyone. It wasn’t quite nine, but still.

“Don’t worry, Dumpling,” she waved toward the door. “All of the rooms are sound-warded.”

My shoulders relaxed. I might’ve tried this earlier if I had known that. Then again, my shifts were ending so late these days that by the time I made it back I was either pulled into Vanessa’s room by Colette for what she called “girl time,” or too exhausted to do anything more than bathe, change into my nightclothes, and collapse into bed.

Mellie explained the rest of the notes to me, plinking out a melody with her right hand while she played basic chords with the left. My hands refused to work independently the way hers could, but we laughed at my mistakes and she encouraged me to keep trying.

“You’ll get it,” she promised. “It’s mostly muscle memory.”

I made another clumsy attempt, but the noises I coaxed out of the piano sounded more like an armful of pots being dropped down the stairs than actual music.

“This could be good for you, Quinn,” Mellie said, squeezing my shoulder. “I’d love for you to have some hobbies outside the kitchen, especially when this contest is over and your friend leaves. It’s certainly less destructive than,” she raised her eyebrows knowingly, “whatever else you’ve been spending your time doing that has you so exhausted.”

“I’m just helping Colette train, Mels.” I rolled my eyes. “That, and shifts have been so long lately. I’m just a little extra tired.”

“I know, Dumpling,” she conceded, patting my leg. “I’m sorry I have you working so hard. It’s not always this busy. As soon as the contest ends,” she promised, “things will slow down.”

As soon as the contest ends, Evander will be married, I thought bitterly. I think I’d take the long shifts.

Mellie rose from the bench. “You’re right, though. Some rest would be good for you,” she said. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

I nodded and hugged her goodbye, then sat on the edge of my bed. I knew I should rest, but something told me I wouldn’t be able to sleep even if I tried. Instead, I got up and padded to the other side of the room, removing the sheet music from its hiding place and setting it on the music rack of the piano.

In between the lines on the staff, Evander had scrolled “FACE” to indicate the notes. I chuckled quietly, and began writing the letter for each below the staff. After the first few bars, I found that I could predict where the next note would be because I knew the song.

I worked at it for hours, ignoring bed in favor of this simple, rewarding distraction. It took complete concentration to learn the new skill, meaning there was no room for thoughts of the contest, or Evander, or my mother. Every time I mastered a new section, I found myself smiling.

As the final note rang out into my empty room, a lump formed in my throat and I found that my eyes were misty. I closed the lid of the piano and slept soundly all night.

. . .

Despite my emotional turmoil, my routine remained much the same: my morning work in the kitchen was always followed by breakfast with James and his friends before I reported for serving duty in the ballroom.

One night after a particularly grueling day of training, Vanessa swiped a bottle of wine from the barracks and the three of us drank the whole thing, laughing until we cried at Colette’s impression of General Finch.

“Be ready . . . for anything. ” She wiggled her fingers at us menacingly before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

“Seriously, though,” she said, wiping her eyes, “what do you think they have in store for us?”

“I’m the wrong person to ask,” I shrugged, looking at Vanessa.

“The prince didn’t tell you anything?” Colette pressed.

“I haven’t spoken to him since–well, you know . . .”

Colette reacted as if I had told her I was planning to lace my next batch of cinnamon rolls with azcaltan pepper. Her delicate mouth formed a comically large O and she made several strangled-sounding attempts at responding before she finally got a sentence out.

“You haven’t talked to him? At all?” she gaped.

“It’s what’s best for both of us,” I said, pulling my arms across my chest. “He needs to find a wife with magic who can shoulder the other half of the crown, and I need to . . . bake,” I finished lamely.

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard in my life,” Vanessa said.

I groaned, frustrated, rubbing my face. “I just don’t want to talk about it, all right?”

Vanessa took my glass and refilled it with another generous pour of wine.

“Whatever you say,” she conceded, offering it to me.

The sip I took was slightly too long to be casual.

Lowering the glass from my lips, I steered the conversation back to our earlier jibing. “What’s with the constant snow that follows him around? Isn’t he cold?”

To my extreme gratitude, Colette took the hint and picked up where we had left off, putting the uncomfortable topic behind us.

. . .

The day before the second trial, I reported to the ballroom only to find it empty.

Maybe they’re taking today off to rest before the event, I told myself. Still, Colette would have told me as much when we saw each other last night.

Abandoning my post, I made the trek up to the third floor to knock on her door. I hadn’t been in Colette’s room very many times, as we usually met in Vanessa’s chambers, but I was fairly sure this was the one. Vanessa opened the door, slipping out into the hallway and closing it quietly behind her.

“She's panicking,” she said. “She’s convinced she’s going to fail and get sent home tomorrow.”

“That’s ridiculous!” I argued. “Colette’s worked harder than anyone here and her magic has evolved so much.”

“I know that, and you know that,” Vanessa said, “but Colette doesn’t. She won’t listen to me either. Go ahead and try your hand if you want,” she offered, gesturing toward the door.

I stepped around her, reaching for the handle, when something occurred to me.

“Vanessa, why does she want to stay so badly?” I asked. “As far as I know, she’s not interested in Evander . . .” Unless that had changed?

“She has her reasons.” Vanessa’s glare was icy. “Don’t worry, she’s not trying to steal your boyfriend.” Another eye roll.

“He’s not–” I shook my head rapidly, reminding myself to stay on task. This was about Colette. Turning the handle, I crept into the room.

“Hey,” I said softly.

Colette sat slumped on her bed, a mess of tears and snot, her warm brown eyes bloodshot. She looked at me and blew her nose into a tissue with a deafening honk.

“What’s going on?” I asked, joining her on the bed.

“They’re going to send me home.”

“No they’re not.” As I patted her back, I wondered how she could possibly think that was true.

“I’ve been trying so hard, but I’m still not good enough. I’ve just been sharpening random skills that might have some practical application, but I have no idea what to expect.” She burst into quiet sobs again, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

“Colette, are things bad at home?” I asked, as gently as I could. “Because if you’re really that worried about returning, I’m sure Evander could find a place for you here, even if you don’t move forward in the competition.”

“No, it’s not that.” She buried her head in her hands, muffling her next words. “I just–I need to be here.”

I still didn’t understand, but she clearly didn’t want to discuss it, so, returning her earlier kindness, I didn’t press the issue. As I sat with her, hoping my presence might somehow soften her panic, a semblance of an idea started to form in my head.

“Colette,” I asked tentatively, “would you feel better if you had an idea of what you’re going into?”

She nodded emphatically. “What I’m most scared of is being so surprised that I just freeze up and don't do anything at all,” she sniffled.

“All right,” I said, rubbing my hands on my thighs. “I can work with that.”

Colette cocked her head inquisitively.

“Hold on. I’m going to try to get some answers for you.”

“The prince?” she asked.

“No, no.” I shook my head. “I’m just going to poke around some of the rooms they’ve sectioned off. A servant shouldn’t draw too much notice and I’m still new enough here that I can always pretend I’m lost if someone questions me.”

Colette threw her arms around me and squeezed. I embraced her back, hoping this would be as simple as it sounded.

. . .

The hallways seemed to stretch to twice their normal length in the eerie shadows of the night. Every time I heard footsteps, I suppressed the urge to jump behind the nearest planter. There was nothing amiss about a servant walking through the hallway, and it would only serve to make me look more suspicious. Confidence was what I needed right now.

This wasn’t even the difficult part.

Following Vanessa’s direction toward the highest concentration of testing rooms, I found myself on the west wing of the second floor.

The corridor was eerily quiet; there didn’t appear to be so much as a single security guard to keep the testing conditions a secret.

I approached the first door adorned with a sign reading “KEEP OUT: Contest preparations in progress.”

Unlike the invisible wards around the castle, I could see the magical barrier they had placed around the entrance of the room. If I squinted, I could make out a slight blue-grey shimmering net strung between the sides of the door jam.

Shit. Not as easy as I’d hoped it would be.

I reached for the gold handle, expecting to be bounced back. To my surprise, my hand passed right through the ward and made contact with the cool metal. Gripping the lever, I twisted my wrist and pushed the door open.

Hmmm. Maybe it’s keyed to the contestants?

I slipped into the room and shut the door behind me. The space had been rearranged for the task, heavy wooden furniture dragged towards the walls. In the center of the room was a clear box, perhaps eight feet in height and three feet across.

Keeping my footsteps light, I crept up to it and touched the glass to see if anything would happen. If every testing room were different, I could see this one being for Colette. Some type of greenhouse?

The surface was smooth and cold and didn’t respond to my touch. I circled it once, looking for a switch or a lever.

When I pressed the right side of the front panel, it depressed slightly before springing open like a door hinged on the left, though there was no hardware.

Maybe you had to get in the box to figure out how it worked?

I took a tentative step in and waited, but again, nothing happened. When it felt safe, I brought my other foot inside the box and started feeling the walls for another push point.

Suddenly, the door I had come through snapped shut behind me.

Don’t panic, I thought. If it works the same inside as out, I only need to find the right spot to press.

Then the tank started filling with water.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit.

The frigid water rose up to my ankles, though I couldn’t see where it was coming from. There didn’t seem to be a tap, but it continued to rise as if seeping in through the floor.

My hands shook as I searched for an entry point I could block and found nothing. I tried to keep my mind sharp even as my panic rose in tandem with the water; losing my faculties would make this situation even worse.

All right, I coached myself, it makes sense to start from the bottom up while I can still reach the floor without submerging my head in the water. It was now up to my knees. I pushed against every surface I could reach but didn’t feel so much as a tiny budge.

No wonder Colette had been so nervous. What kind of sick, sadistic test was this? It clearly wasn’t designed for a green-Wielder. Whose Gift would help in here? If I could figure that out, maybe I could find a way to mimic it non-magically.

I continued my assault on the glass, the water now reaching my chest. Gods, it was cold. Despite my best efforts, the terror started to creep in. If the aim was for this to fill the entire tank, I was going to drown.

The liquid reached my neck and I kicked, using the water below me to reach the top corners, the only places I hadn’t tried yet.

Please, please, please.

As it lapped at my throat, I pressed my face into the top panel of glass, trying to take in as much air as I could before diving down to where I had opened the door.

Though I had never been the religious type, I prayed to every god I had ever heard of as I started banging my fists against the glass. The water slowed the momentum of my fists, turning my desperate efforts to free myself into something like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

My lungs started to burn. I wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer.

I will come to your temple every week if you get me out of here, I promised no god in particular.

The edges of my vision began to go dark and I felt my lungs seize up. I closed my eyes and prepared for the water to flood into my airways. This was it. I was going to die in this room.

A pantomime of a life full of lukewarm choices flashed before my eyes. I’d been angry about so many things, but what progress had I really made? In the end, did my paltry rebellion against my mother amount to anything other than a thinly-veiled attempt to feel as if I was doing something to control the trajectory of my life?

As my body fought the inevitable, I remembered all of the kindness Mellie had shown me, and how heartbroken she would be when I was gone. I prayed Colette wouldn’t blame herself for this, her sweet, innocent soul marked by the shadow of my death forever. Then, in the final moment before my lungs gave out, I thought of Evander.

Faced with the end of my life, I finally allowed myself to experience the full force of how I felt about him. I had tried again and again to tell myself that my emotions were complicated, but in truth, there was only longing. Longing, and love I had tried so foolishly to fight. Though I couldn’t feel the tears on my face under the water, I was certain I was weeping.

No longer able to help myself, my burning lungs desperate for air I knew I would not find in the tank, my mouth flew open.

Then, two things my panicked brain couldn’t make sense of happened in rapid succession: First, Evander burst through the door, as if I had summoned him with my thoughts. Panic in his eyes, he ran up to the glass, drawing his fist back like he meant to punch it open from the outside.

Second, I took a breath.

Evander’s fist made contact with the glass and it spiderwebbed rapidly before shattering into thousands of tiny pieces.

What the hells just happened?

The water flooded the room and I fell to the ground in the remains of the tank, glass cutting up my hands and legs as I sputtered and began to sob.

Evander knelt beside me, grabbing my arms to lift me to standing. Blood dripped from his knuckles.

My knees buckled beneath me again at the sight, my frantic mind trying to find some logical explanation for what had happened.

I could’ve died. I should’ve died.

“What in the hells were you doing, Quinn?” he shook me by my shoulders, eyes frantically searching my own. His expression was pure panic.

“I-I’m sorry-” the tears came heavier now. Shock, I imagined.

“Sorry? No, Quinn, no. Shhhh.” His brows creased in concern and he pulled me in close, rubbing calming circles on my back, his lips pressed into my hair. I melted into his embrace, allowing myself comfort in the wake of the trauma I had just experienced.

A whisper, so soft I barely heard it, ghosted the top of my head. “I almost lost you.”

Evander said it with real fear in his voice, and when I looked up at his face, his eyes were wide with fear under his dark lashes.

He was drenched from head to toe, the fabric of his shirt and trousers cut in many places from the force of the glass breaking outward. The blood on his knuckles had crusted over shockingly fast. I pulled our joined hands toward me, brushing over his wounds with my other thumb.

Catching my shaky hand and raising it to his lips, he pressed a soft kiss into my skin.

“I’m all right,” I promised.

“But you almost weren’t.”

The truth of that statement was terrifying. I should be dead right now, and I had no explanation for why I had been spared.

“Something strange happened,” I told him, fighting to breathe in and out. “I don’t know if it was real or if my mind was beginning to shut down, but just as you arrived . . .” I paused, realizing I still didn’t know how or why he had come. “Evander–Why are you here?”

“I honestly don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. The tiny movement sent droplets of water flying from his wet curls. “I was lying in bed thinking about the trial tomorrow and I couldn’t sleep. All of a sudden I just felt this tug in my gut. I don’t know how, but I knew something was wrong,” he swallowed, “so I got up and followed it here.”

All I could do was stare at him as I tried to puzzle it out. It was impossible.

“Quinn, I know you don’t want to see me right now. I’ve been trying to respect that, but I just need you to know that if anything happened to you . . .” he trailed off, tightening his grip on my hand. “It would break me, Quinn.”

There was a cut on his cheek from the glass of the tank, and I reached up to trace it with my fingers without realizing what I was doing. Blue eyes met hazel, our gazes full of anguish and fear and something else I had been ignoring for weeks, and that armor around my heart came clattering down.

I could’ve died. I could’ve died without having made any choices for myself, always too scared of pain and failure to take any real risks.

A breath passed this way before Evander pulled back slightly and I watched as he began to build the walls back up between us. I couldn’t bear it. Not again. Not tonight.

Raising my other hand to the side of his face, I searched his eyes for any hesitation before bringing our lips together in a bruising kiss that said all of the things I couldn’t.

He met me with equal fervor, plunging one hand into my drenched hair while the other found its way to my waist, pulling me even closer. The kiss was a living thing, and we both surrendered to it, breathless and desperate.

His hands were everywhere, dancing along my body as if they ached to touch every spot. They trailed up my sides and into my hair, his thumb brushing my face before he wrapped his arms around me again.

I melted into the embrace as he anchored me, offering me something solid, something real to distract from the terror.

“I’m sorry,” I said, pulling back. “I know this isn’t fair.”

Evander’s lips coasted along my jaw before he lifted his head to meet my eyes.

“Don’t you dare apologize for this,” he ordered, his voice low and gravelly. “Don’t think for a second that I don’t want this. Unless you change your mind, I need you to stop putting barriers up between us and just take what you want.”

I nodded, and his lips crashed into mine again.

“Say the word and we stop,” he said into my skin, but I didn’t want to.

A moan rose in the back of my throat unbidden. The sound seemed to snap whatever self-control Evander had been holding onto, and he let go of me only long enough to pull his shirt over the top of his head and lift me, carrying us both over to a settee pushed up against the wall.

I swung one leg over to straddle him as my tongue slipped into his mouth. Who was this woman controlling my movements?

Evander had told me to take what I wanted and right now my body was screaming for more, more, more. The title, the competition, the crown, the magic all faded away and it was just us, drowning in the chemistry and want I had been so desperate to ignore.

Why? I thought fleetingly as I felt his hands grip my thighs. Why would I ever deprive myself of this?

Evander put one hand on my lower back and expertly rolled us over, his weight on top of mine a delicious sensation. I craved the feeling of his warm chest on my skin. As if he knew what I was thinking, he shifted back to give me space to remove my wet blouse. I threw the fabric on the floor and looked up at him.

The moonlight coming in from the window worshiped his torso, emphasizing his broad shoulders and the lines of his abdominals, the vee of his hip muscles disappearing into the trousers that I very much resented at the moment.

His eyes drank in my form at the same time I observed his, and he growled with approval, leaning down to kiss me again. I could feel the length of him pressed against me, and I guided his hand to my breast. His thumb circled my nipple lightly, making me shiver, before he replaced it with the heat of his mouth. When he flicked his tongue over the sensitive peak, I whimpered, my nails digging into the golden skin of his shoulders.

Chuckling lowly, he continued pressing open-mouthed kisses to my sternum, my chest, and up my neck.

Gods, I needed more. He nipped at my earlobe, toying with me.

“Evander, please,” I breathed.

Lifting his head, he searched my face for a moment before closing his eyes and shifting back onto his knees, away from me.

“Quinn . . .” he started. “Gods, I can’t believe I’m about to do this.”

Do what? Had I done something wrong? I tried to keep the sting of rejection from showing on my face, but I must’ve failed, because he leaned in close to me, cradling my face.

“I want to be very clear with you. I would love nothing more than to give you anything and everything you want right now. To worship you the way you deserve and feel you clenching around me as you find your release.” He steadied himself, taking a breath. “But you’ve just had quite a shock, and I wouldn’t feel right capitalizing on the emotion of the moment without giving you some time to think this over first.”

“Evander,” I said, a hand moving up to touch his face. I wanted to tell him that I was certain, so sure of what I wanted in this moment. It wasn’t just adrenaline fueling my body. But I also knew he had a tendency to flagelate himself, and I didn’t want him to look back on this moment and second guess.

His eyes closed again at the sound of his name. “Besides,” he replied, “when I finally get to make love to you, I want to do it correctly, not on a tiny settee.”

He flashed a devilish grin at me, and the last of my disappointment melted away at the sight. I ignored the part of me that warned that this may be our only chance, that things would feel much different in the light of day. Not yet. We could stay in this moment for a little while longer.

“Can we . . . can we just lie here for a while?” I asked.

His gaze softened as he shifted onto his side. “Of course. Anything you want.”

I shifted to make space on the cushions and he lay down next to me, pulling me so my head rested on his chest and his arm around me kept me from falling off the seat.

The adrenaline was wearing off and my eyes felt heavy, my chest warm with the feeling of safety and complete satisfaction.

Evander stroked my hair as I fell asleep.

In that liminal space between sleeping and waking, I heard him mutter a reverent promise into my hair, but I was unconscious before I could process what he said.

. . .

The next morning I woke in Evander’s arms. At some point in the night, he had taken the throw off the back of the settee and draped it over me, and now I snuggled into it, savoring the warmth for a moment before my brain woke up and my eyes flew open. Disbelief hit as I took in my surroundings. There was shattered glass all over the floor and standing water all over the expensive rugs. The pillows of the loveseat had been discarded onto the floor during our . . . activities.

A flush crept into my cheeks as I remembered everything I had done–and said–last night.

Oh gods. I squinted my eyes shut as tightly as I could. Was it possible to die of embarrassment?

I shifted as slowly as I could, careful not to wake Evander and speed up the uncomfortable conversation we were surely about to have.

He looked younger when he slept, the crease between his eyebrows softened and a serene expression on his face. It was impossible not to marvel at his beauty, a piece of his dark wavy hair falling onto his forehead, long, dark eyelashes kissing the tops of his cheeks, lips still a little bit swollen. The arm he had around my shoulder tightened in his sleep.

A small sigh escaped my lips. I could pretend to be asleep a little while longer. Trying to immortalize this moment, I let my eyes flutter closed and took a long, deep breath.

The peace only lasted a moment before my thoughts turned to last night. To that tank.

What the hells had they been thinking? What kind of test could justify locking a girl up in a magical aquarium of death?

The memory elicited an involuntary shudder. I had been sure I was going to drown, but at the last second, I could’ve sworn I took a breath. A full, regular breath. But there had been no air left in the tank.

Either one of the gods I had prayed to had taken pity on me, or my mind was distorting reality as I neared unconsciousness. If I had aspirated water, though, surely I would have known by now. I moved my hand up to touch my neck, feeling ridiculous as I searched for gills but found only smooth skin.

The movement must’ve woken Evander, because he opened his eyes, taking in our surroundings and beaming a groggy smile at me.

“Good morning.” His voice was froggy with sleep. It was both adorable and, if I was being honest, incredibly arousing.

“Morning,” I echoed, feeling sheepish. I took the blanket with me and pressed it against my chest as I sat up. My feet met water when they hit the ground.

“Did we sleep the entire night on the settee?” Evander asked, chuckling.

“It would appear so,” I said, already dreading what I knew had to come next. “Evander, I am so, so sorry,” I began, but he cut me off, raising an eyebrow.

“I seem to remember telling you to stop apologizing last night.” My core turned molten at the memory. “Besides, I can’t remember the last time I slept so well.”

He pulled himself up to join me in a seated position and I kept my eyes carefully trained on the ceiling. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him pluck his shirt off the back of the settee and put it on.

There was no use delaying the inevitable, so I turned to face him.

“This can’t happen again,” I said, though my heart wept as I watched his beautiful face turn desolate. I would forever be thankful for the perfect night we had spent together, but I couldn’t come between him and his kingdom.

“Don’t say that.”

“Evander . . .”

“I meant what I said last night. This isn’t the end for us. Please, Quinn, before you box this up and pretend it didn’t happen, give me some time. I’ll find a loophole in the prophecy. There has to be something I’ve missed. Because this,” he gestured between the two of us, “is the closest thing I can imagine to my magic singing. The pull I feel towards you, the way my magic seems to know when you’re in danger . . . that’s never happened before. It has to mean something.”

Hope lit traitorously in my chest at his words.

“Your Gift . . .” I started, looking at the wreckage around us.

“Not much of a point keeping it a secret now, I suppose. My Gift is a sort of amplification,” he said. “It usually manifests as enhanced strength.”

That was putting it lightly. The man had punched through an inch-thick panel of glass. To get to me, I thought, heat creeping up the back of my neck.

“ Mother found out when I ripped my crib in half after my nursemaid didn’t come get me fast enough one morning,” he said, chuckling. “It’s useful in hand-to-hand combat but doesn’t do me much good commanding an army.” There was something maudlin in his tone that sounded a lot like disappointment.

“Evander, that’s incredible. You realize that, don’t you?” I pushed.

“The practical application isn’t as great as you might think. I feel more powerless than I’d like to admit most days,” he said.

“But,” he added, raising my hand to his lips, “I was incredibly thankful for it last night.”

“Thank you.” No matter how much meaning and sincerity I tried to inject into my words, they still felt paltry in comparison to what he had done for me. Surveying the room again, I couldn’t help but wince. I couldn’t imagine what the cost of the damages would be.

“I would like to know what you were doing in here,” he asked, turning serious.

“I was curious,” I said, leaving Colette out of it, “about the contest. About what the challenges would be. But I had no idea . . .” My eyes pricked with tears thinking about how unprepared I had been.

Evander’s eyes softened. Doing my best to hide my embarrassment, I turned away and tried to put myself back together. I scanned the room for my clothing and found it in a sopping pile at the base of the settee. Lifting my blouse between two fingers, I watched as it comically dripped water onto the floor.

“I don’t think you can wear that out,” he pointed out, one side of his mouth quirking upward.

A giggle bubbled up from my throat, so at odds with my surroundings that it only made me want to laugh harder.

“It looks like my clothing survived.” He plucked his trousers off a nearby chair and stepped into them. Dumping water from one of his boots, he frowned. “Or rather . . . most of it.”

Our eyes met and we dissolved into a fit of laughter that was decidedly inappropriate considering the damage we had caused.

“Let me get you something,” he said, pulling on his wet boot to avoid the glass shards. He sloshed his way over to the remains of the tank, crouching down to inspect the base.

“Xavier’s going to be furious,” he sighed. “He worked on this for weeks. It was supposed to be for the shifter. Cora, I think?”

So I was onto something with the whole fish thing, I thought dryly.

“Again, I am so sorry,” I repeated. I didn’t know what else I could say to express the depth of guilt I felt.

“How did you get past the wards?” Evander asked, ignoring my apology.

“I don’t know,” I said, pulling the throw tighter around me. “I could see them around the door, but I was able to reach right through. Inadvisable, I know now,” I clarified before he lectured me. “I assumed they were keyed to keep only the contestants out.”

“It’s possible, I suppose.” He cocked his head, lost in thought. “I’ll have Algernon check them all this afternoon. I don’t want this happening to anyone else.”

He trudged back through the water to kiss my forehead before heading to the door. Something in my chest warmed at the gesture and I found myself smiling like a schoolgirl.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised.

. . .

An hour later, he still hadn’t returned.

I’m not sure what I expected. A declaration of love? Breakfast in bed?

It’s entirely possible he was pulled into a meeting. Or he got sidetracked checking the wards with General Finch, I rationalized.

Or he realized what a terrible mistake this was, ran as fast as he could, and is hoping you’ll get the message, my brain added unhelpfully.

Either way, I couldn’t sit in this flooded room all day. Today was my day off, but I wasn’t taking the chance of anyone discovering me in this state.

I drew the blanket around me, positioning the middle of the short edge over my head, hoping it could pass as some kind of hooded cloak. My shoes were nowhere to be found, but luckily the fabric was long enough to keep my feet obscured. Hiking it up, I waded through the water, trying my best to step around the glass and miraculously avoiding any cuts.

This is delusional, I thought as I opened the door slowly, but I didn’t know what else to do.

The water had leaked out into the tiled hallway, which was blessedly empty.

The servant’s stairwell was probably my best chance at making it up to my room without being spotted, so I navigated to the nearest entrance and began to climb. Everyone must’ve been busy with preparation for the trial, because I didn’t encounter anyone on the way up.

I made it all the way to the third floor and was halfway down the hallway when Satoria, a contestant with the Gift of wind manipulation, opened her door. She stepped out, took a moment to steel herself, and began her march down the hallway, presumably to her trial. Was that where Evander had gone?

My mind raced with excuses for why I was barefoot, wrapped in a blanket with a soaked hem, and hiding the fact that I had no clothes on. What could I tell her? A slip into one of the fountains? She might not notice that I wasn’t clothed if I kept the blanket around me.

My anxiety proved to be pointless, as she swept down the hallway without acknowledging me. Either she found a servant to be below her notice, or she was so nervous and distracted herself that she had tunnel vision on her destination. Whatever the reason, I was thankful for it.

Safely inside my room at last, I let out a sigh of relief. Abandoning the blanket in the sink of the washroom, I dressed myself in the one spare set of clothes I had, a deep berry blouse with long flowing sleeves, and a plain brown linen skirt. I would need to find out how to acquire new clothing around here the next time I had a day off.

As I was lacing up my spare boots, a knock came from the door.

On the other side was Mellie, her face bright red and puffy and her eyes full of tears.

I put my arm around her and ushered her inside, sitting her down on the bed.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, panicked. I’d never seen Mellie so upset.

“It’s the queen,” she sobbed. “Evalina won’t wake up.”