Page 13 of The Night Prince

When he first linked our lives together, I felt his emotions as strongly as my own. I think he has found some way to conceal them, because though I can still feel that dark part of him inside me, I can’t identify his intentions.

How I loathe this male. I think I may loathe him even more than James. I can taste my hatred, bitter on the back of my tongue. My teeth tingle, ache, like I want to sink them into his flesh. He used me. The worst part is how much that hurts.

I’ve never had friends. As the princess, I always stood apart from others. I wasn’t allowed to run around and play silly games with the other children. As an adult, no one talked freely around me. My brother, Philip, was cruel. Every male who ever spoke to me did so because they had something to gain from my father.

I thought this had hardened me, and made me a good judge of character. Now, I wonder if it made me even more susceptible to deception—so desperate to make a connection with someone, anyone, that I let myself be fooled by a snake.

It’s not that I ever fully trusted Blake, but Goddess, a part of me had wanted to. I enjoyed conversations with him, even when he was trying to provoke me. He spoke to me as if I was equal to him—more so, perhaps, than even Callum did. A horrible, weak, cringing part of me wanted to be his friend.

I loathe him, and myself, for it.

“How are you feeling, little rabbit?” His voice is carefully smooth, casual, as if he’s merely making small talk.

I may not have seen Blake’s poison until it was too late, but I know he gains enjoyment from other people’s pain. I won’t give him mine. I force my lips into a polite smile—the same smile I’ve given many obnoxious lords while I secretly recoiled at their presence. “I am well. Thank you.”

He tilts his head slightly to the side. I feel him, then. A cool prickle beneath my skin. The strangest feeling of shadowy vines that spread around my soul. When I felt his yearning, earlier, it seemed involuntary. This is different. It’s like he’s reaching for me, and trying to gauge my emotion. I tense, blocking the sensation, caging my emotions and keeping them close.

“Are you well rested?” he asks.

“I’m fine.”

“Callum said you had nightmares. What did you dream of?” There is something pointed in his tone, as if the answer is important to him, though I can’t fathom why.

“It was just the fever.” I keep my voice sweet as honey. “Thank you for your concern.”

I catch it. His slight flicker of displeasure. My smile aches a little less. My sweetness irritates him. Good.

He strolls toward me, his footsteps loud and steady on the flagstones. He stops close enough that his dark forest scent wraps around me, and he leans back against the table. It creaks beneath his weight. His face is close to mine, and his thigh almost brushes my hip.

I want to move back, to put distance between us, but I force myself to stay where I am.

This close, I see that he looks like he has not had much sleep, either. There are faint shadows beneath his eyes, and his dark hair is messy—as if he’s been dragging frantic fingers through it. A soft curl brushes his forehead.

In my fever dreams, he had seemed ethereal and untouchable—a monster made of death and shadow. The realness, the solidity, of him—corded forearms, broad shoulders, a hard chest straining beneath his white shirt—makes him seem even more dangerous, somehow.

“You defied James, dragged a blade across Sebastian’s throat, and all I get is a pretty smile and a ‘thank you for your concern’?” His voice is low and seductive. “How disappointing.”

“If I ever led you to believe I was trying to impress you, Blake, I apologize for the misdirection.”

A dimple creases his cheek. “Are you angry with me?”

“Can’t you feel it?” I ask.

“Right now, you’re guarding your emotions. As am I.”

Despite my unwillingness to ask for Blake’s help, the question slips out. “How? How does this... thing between us work?”

He looks like he’s considering whether or not to answer. “When I saved your life, I shared my lifeforce with you. It was like I gave you the end of a rope to pull you back, and I grabbed onto your lifeforce at the same time. I don’t know how it feels to you, but for me it’s like a thread of light from your lifeforce is still inside me. When you feel something particularly strongly, it wraps around my emotions and pulses, and I feel it too.”

“How do I stop you from feeling me?”

“I can stop it myself by imagining a cage around my emotions, to stop myself from touching your light. You could try that.” He cocks his head to one side. “Is that how it feels for you? Like a thread of light?”

I search inside me for that piece of him, that end of the thread, and shiver. “No. It feels like darkness.”

“Well? Are you angry with me?”

“Why would I be angry?” I try to keep my tone smooth, but I can’t quite conceal the bite behind it. “You saved my life.”And linked our lives together without my consent, all as part of your plan to take the throne and kill Callum.

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