Page 8 of Point of No Return

“Don’t they usually come to these events?”

“I think I’d remember seeing her if they did.”

“Here I was thinking it would be our engagement everyone would be talking about,” Skar leans down, saying into my ear.

I shiver at the heat that skates its way down my spine, but I force myself to focus on scanning the crowd for my mother’s signature silk gloves. She’ll never miss a chance to cover her markings. I spot her across the dancefloor, my father not far behind her, and I stop at the bottom of the stairs, turning to face Skar.

Even in heels, I have to stand on my toes, my lips hovering close to his neck as I whisper, “You’re marrying a Prevyain. I’m about to become the most interesting thing about you.”

It isn’t hard to force a front, to bat my eyes and make it clear to everyone around us that I’m just some doe-eyed damsel- incapable of thought or actual feeling.

Hell, the way I’m looking at him right now, I might even be able to convincehimof that, but I refuse to fall to my knees. Not here. Not for him.

“Enjoy the party,” I say, turning on my heel.

What I don’t expect is for his hand to grab hold of my arm, dragging me back to him. We’re close enough again that I can see his eyes flick to the small crowd forming around us before falling on me again.

“I think I’d like to meet my future parents-in-law.”

There’s such possession in his voice, in his touch. It must be a family trait- feeling like everything belongs to you. It makes it hard not to glare at him as his hand finds the small of my back, and he guides us toward my parents.

“Charlotte, dear!” my mother hollers, loud enough to grab my attention and the attention of everyone around us. Her eyes dance between my betrothed and I, and I’m sure she doesn’t miss the closeness between us. The ownership of his touch. “The house feels so lonely without you.”

My smile is tight at the lie, but I can play this game easily enough. My mother made it clear before I left:I will play my part.

“I’ve missed you,” I tell her, kissing either of her cheeks, but I feel Skar’s hand press against my back again. I nearly glare. “Moma, Papa, I’d like you to meet Skar.”

A simple introduction- one without title or formalities- and I’m almost sure will grate his nerves. He handles it like a pro, forcing a smile and thrusting his hand toward my father, who shakes it. “I’m glad to finally meet you both. Charlotte’s told me so much about you both.”

Liar, I want to say, but I know better. In the game of love, lies are the only currency.

“How’s business been at Omenin?” my father starts, and immediately, I feel a headache starting to come on. From what little I do know of my fiancé, almost all of it is about his family’s company.

I grab a glass from a passing waiter, swallowing a few mouthfuls of champagne as they dive into conversation. My mother plants that easy, carefree expression on her face, but I don’t miss the movement she makes toward me.

“How is everything?” she asks.

I nod, sipping from my glass again. “It’s beautiful here. They’ve been treating me well.”

Her eyes don’t miss the fact that my arms remain perfectly visible for all to see, and her lips pucker when she looks at them again. She’s always hated the markings. What they stand for. “I couldn’t be more glad.”

“Have you seen Tyson yet?” I ask, and if I didn’t know better, I can swear that Skar tenses at the mention of his father.

“Not yet. I don’t think his car has arrived yet.”

Another thing that the Benenati family has kept quiet,from what I gather. Tyson doesn’t live at Viserion anymore. My mother hasn’t seemed to miss the detail.

“He’ll be here before long,” I raise my glass again to take another sip, but before it touches my lips, Skar reaches forward and takes a sip of his own. I watch the strong column of his throat work as he drinks.

FromMYglass.

My hate for him continues to grow by the second. My mother’s eyes seem to narrow in on it, so I’m quick to flash a crafted smile. He swallows the last of my drink, and as I look up at him, he has the audacity to wink at me. To smile.

I curse him for it, instead absently turning about. “Excuse me. I’m going to freshen up.”

I slip away a moment later, and I’m glad that no one follows me. I weave in and out of the crowd, aware that my every move is being watched. I stand out like a sore thumb. It’s the tattoos maybe- or maybe it’s the white dress in a sea of colorful sashes and bustles. Either way, I’m aware of the eyes that follow me as I cross under the staircase toward the bathrooms.

Before walking in, there’s a room furnished with sofa loungers and a mirrored vanity, and I pause at the plush seat, grateful for the slight reprieve from the noise and chaos beyond the doors. The next few months will challenge me in a way no amount of training can ever prepare me for. And if tonight is just a taste, then I’m definitely getting a run for my money.

---