Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 128374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Frowning, I curl my fingers, squeezing his fingertips in my palm. “Then why have you been studying to be a mage?”
“The skills are useful, and I . . . In truth, I needed to get away.”
That’s when it clicks. “You weren’t really leaving for another part of your apprenticeship, were you? You were going home.”
He nods and searches my face. “I wanted to ask you to go with me, but I knew you wouldn’t want the life I could offer you.”
My heart soars and aches all at once. “Why would you say that?” Does he think I’d be that picky? Or was it because he knew I’d never leave Jas behind and didn’t think he could take us both?
He blows out a breath. “I still can’t believe she sold her.”
I return my cheek to its resting place on his chest, relishing the feel of his heat and strength. Maybe Sebastian can’t save Jas or protect me from this task I must take on, but there’s something comforting in his embrace. Part of me wants to believe I could put my problems in his capable hands and he would be able to fix everything. “It’s not your fault.”
“It is my fault that I never told you how I feel. And now I’m afraid I’m too late.” His gaze flashes away, and I follow it to see a group of yellow-and-gray-clad guardsmen marching out of the castle. Yellow, I realize, like my dress. One of the queen’s banner colors.
When I look back up at Sebastian, he’s staring at my mouth.
I lift my hand, cupping his jaw in invitation. Slowly—so slowly it’s nearly painful—he lowers his mouth to mine. His lips are soft, but I slide my hand into his hair and the kiss turns searching. Time stutters to a stop. The sun stalls on the horizon, the birds quiet, and the breeze stills in the flowers. Nothing in the world exists but his mouth and mine, and my heart aches as I try to memorize every perfect second. This could be our last kiss.
How can I make another man fall in love with me when I have always been in love with this man?
When he pulls away, my knees are weak and the world comes back into focus too slowly.
“Please forgive me,” he whispers.
“You have nothing to apologize for.” I almost smile. “I’m pretty sure I kissed you.”
“His Royal Highness, Prince Ronan, is needed in the throne room,” a guard says, too near us.
I jerk away to scan the gardens. Is the prince nearby? Did he see me kissing Sebastian? If he did, how will he ever believe I want him?
Foolish and reckless, Brie. Get it together.
But no one is in the garden except Sebastian, the guards, and me. The guards watch Sebastian expectantly, and Sebastian watches me.
“Sir, excuse me,” one of the queen’s garrison says, “but it’s time to go. They await you inside. The selection was to begin hours ago.”
“Tell my mother I will join her shortly.” His voice is tight and sharp, and my muddled brain scrambles to make sense of his words.
The sentinel shifts awkwardly from one leg to another and looks to his fellow guardsmen. “Your Highness—”
Sebastian sets his jaw. “Leave us.”
I’m vaguely aware of the sound of feet marching away on the garden’s flagstone path, but I can’t take my eyes off my friend. I blink at him. “Your mother?” Prince Ronan. They addressed him as Prince Ronan. And Your Highness. “Bash, I don’t understand. What kind of glamour is this? Why do they think you’re the prince?”
He takes my hand and gently squeezes my fingertips. “Because I am.”
I step back, yanking my hand away. “That’s not funny.”
“Brie, listen to me. I couldn’t tell you, not when I knew how you felt about my kind. I wanted to, but—”
“No.” I shake my head wildly. “No, you’re a normal human. You can’t be—”
“Please. Just give me a chance to explain.”
I’ve backed away without realizing it and find myself in the shadow of a willow tree.
“Brie?” He mutters a curse and spins in place. “Abriella? Please.”
I look at my hands, but they’re not there. Somehow I’ve become invisible again—become the shadows, like before.
I don’t question it. I just run. Through the gardens, beyond the castle gates, and into thick fog. My lungs burn and my legs ache, but I don’t stop—not when the landscape changes from the impossible perfection of the palace grounds to something like a ruin, not when my limbs appear again, whatever magic made me invisible falling away. I don’t slow down until the fog is as thick as a storm cloud and the sun is so low in the sky that the last fingers of light barely brush the horizon.
I lean against a broken marble column and sink to the ground. I don’t even realize I’m crying until my cheeks are wet and my breath comes in hiccupping gasps.