Page 54 of The Night Prince

“Play your cards right, and that could be me.”

“My father would never agree to that.” I pretend to be sad about the fact. “He will make me marry a lord, or a prince. Someone to strengthen the kingdom.”

He slurps his drink, and brings his lips to my ear. “Fuck your father.” My heartbeat quickens. “Does that make you nervous, love? Fuck, you smell good.”

I force myself not to recoil, though I inch away slightly. “You don’t like my father?”

“Who does? The miserable cunt.” He takes another sip, and spills a little wine on the table. “You should do what I say, not him. After I’ve taken the Borderlands from my twat of a brother, I’ll turn the Borderlands army to the south, put your father’s head on a spike, and take you for myself. How does that sound?”

Like you’ve just signed your death warrant, Alexander.

I force myself to smile. “An appealing plan indeed.”

He leans closer, and something inside me rattles against its confines. My fingers hurt, and I fear claws will erupt so I can claw out his eyes. He opens his mouth and his eyes gleam with hunger. I breathe in sharply. A blade protrudes from his throat. It’s pulled back, and he slumps forward onto the table. The jug of wine tips over and spills onto the floor.

Blake stands behind him, and the muscles in his forearm flex as he sheaths the dagger. The moonlight illuminates the gleam in his eye, and the dimple that presses into his cheek. His dark hair is mussed, and his black shirt is baggy. The buttons are only done up to halfway—like he’s been lounging on his bed.

This can’t be happening. This isn’t happening. Thisdidn’thappen.

The music stops. The people dissolve into shadow. A cloud passes over the crescent moon that shines on the throne.

My fear and unease dissolve. This is not real. I’m not a fourteen-year-old-girl, being groomed by a man almost twice her age. This is a dream. A memory. Nothing more.

My lips tighten. It’s not something Blake should be privy to.

I straighten in my seat.

“Hello, little rabbit.” Blake’s lips curve into a wicked smile. “Have you been keeping secrets?”

Chapter Twenty-One

“Imade friends with a man in the Southlands, once.” Blake repeats the story I once told him. He pushes Alexander and his chair onto the floor. He turns and leans against the table beside me, his thigh close to my clasped hands. “My father thought he was plotting against him and I was told to dance with him, sit with him, fill up his cup. He was a devious, cruel man...” A slow smile spreads across Blake’s face. “No wonder you were so alarmed at the news that Alexander wasn’t dead.”

I fold my arms. “Very good. You have discovered my secret.”

Blake laughs. “Here I was, thinking he wanted to marry you and stake his claim on the Borderlands. It seems he may have a personal vendetta against you, as well.”

“I don’t feel bad for what I did. He should have been executed.”

“I imagine he feels otherwise.”

I exhale. “You can be facetious all you like, Blake. You linked our lives together. Whatever happens to me, happens to you.”

He shrugs. “I won’t let him hurt you.”

“You can stop him?”

Blake looks down at the body on the floor, and arches an eyebrow.

I roll my eyes. “I’m not sure killing the real Alexander will be as simple as killing a figment of my imagination. He had a lot of support in the Borderlands before... well, whatever happened to him.”

I think of the bellows I heard throughout the palace after I’d told my father his intentions. I thought he had been executed—my father never mentioned him again.

“Lowfell is more or less secure,” says Blake.

“More or less?”

The table creaks as he shifts against it and parts his thighs slightly. “I don’t like how some of Lochlan’s clan are looking at you. I’m starting to wonder whether a mysterious illness should appear among the lower-ranking Wolves in his pack. Nothing deadly, of course. Just bad enough to keep them weak.”

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