Page 132 of The Ashes and the Star-Cursed King

“That’s the idea.”

“I think it’s nice. I mean, it’s very polished. You look really… clean.”

I was very conscious of all the eyes on me. It was too easy to be myself with Mische. My words could be casual, but my body language had to stay consistent—I was the Nightborn King.

And yet, at this, I had to clench my jaw hard to swallow my laugh.

“Clean,” I choked.

Mische threw up her hands in a gesture of,Well, what the hell do you want me to say?

“Youdo.”

“Thank you, Mische. When I have all these nobles blowing smoke up my ass, it’s nice to have you to bring me back down.”

She patted my shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

Then she followed my gaze—to Vale and Lilith, now whispering and chuckling to each other like they were the only ones in this ballroom.

A soft smile spread over Mische’s lips. “They’re cute,” she said.

“Mm. Cute.”

Maybe. I wasn’t sure I was convinced yet.

Her eyes narrowed. “What’s the grunting for?”

“Nothing.”

She knew, of course. For a moment, we both watched them.

“I think it’s real,” she declared at last. “I think he loves her.”

I gave her a look. She gave me one back.

“What? You think that because he did some bad things two hundred years ago, he’s not capable of love?”

Capable of loving a Turned woman? Capable of loving ahuman?I fucking doubted it. Even if the evidence before me was, I’d admit, disconcertingly compelling.

“Maybe,” I said.

“I’ve got to believe in love, Raihn. The world is sad enough.”

My eyes slipped to the other side of the ballroom, to the one painting that still remained from Vincent’s reign. That lone Rishan man, falling to his death, reaching for something that was never going to reach back.

I made a noncommittal sound and then cleared my throat, straightening my back.

“I don’t need to be nannied over,” I said, motioning to the banquet tables. “Go eat. If I know you, you’ve been mentally undressing that feast since you walked into the room.”

She giggled. “Maybe a little.”

She moved to kiss me on the cheek, and I quickly moved away, disguising the movement as me picking up my wine glass again.

Because Simon Vasarus had just walked into this party, and suddenly, I was infinitely aware of every appearance.

Still, even with that distraction, the flicker of hurt on Mische’s face twisted in my gut.

“I have to be careful,” I muttered, casting a pointed look. She followed my gaze, and her face hardened.

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