Page 73 of Rubies and Revenge

“Next time, we source our own outfits,” I grumble.

Darius blanches. “Next time?”

“Left to your own devices, you two would’ve arrived in all black and said you were ravens.” Zarina sweeps into the room, her gown’s gossamer skirts wide and brushing the floor. The bodice is a translucent corset, with red and black color blocks and small hearts embroidered throughout, and upon her head rests a delicate tiara with rubies and black opals.

“My Queen of Hearts.” I offer her a bow.

She curtsies in return. “My knave.”

I roll my shoulders like I can shrug off the cape snugly clasped to my suit. “Is that who I am?”

“Yes.” She replaces my hair that fell out of place, bringing her face close enough that I could duck my chin and plant a peck on her nose. But I don’t. Her lips are painted bright red, her eyes smokey blacks, with white hearts at the crest of her cheekbones. She settles back on her heels with her hands clasped in front of her. “And you look quite handsome.”

I scoff. “I feel like a dandy.”

“A dandy?” She chuckles. “Are we in a Shakespearean play?”

“We might as well be Romeo and Juliet,” I say.

“Marcus Accardi is far more dangerous than Paris.”

“I never said it was a perfect comparison.”

Zarina plays with a bracelet at her wrist—tiny black diamonds in the shapes of hearts, spades, clubs, and diamonds. She twists it round and round until she plants her palm over it like she’s trying to stop herself fidgeting. “Pat, Darius, please wait outside.”

Pat pushes off the wall to open the door, holding it open for Darius.

He sighs, heading for the hall. “What’re you dressed as?”

They glance down at their suit, the velvet patterned like snakeskin in a rich, bottle green. “Bill the Lizard.”

“Why is yours better than mine?” Darius whines—actually whines. I almost yank out my phone to hit record and ask him to do it again.

Pat pats him on the back. “Zarina knows you don’t like her.”

“Petty,” he gripes.

They let the door go. “That she is.”

“I can hear you both,” Zarina snaps.

“We know!” they call in unison as the door finally shuts.

I share an amused look with Zarina, her teeth biting her bottom lip to keep from laughing. “I think Pat’s been a bad influence on him,” I say.

She gasps in fake affront. “Excuse me, Pat is an angel. It’s Darius who’s influenced them.”

“They’re more stubborn than you. How could anyone possibly influence them?”

The smallest laugh falls out of her mouth, tinny and hollow even to my ears. I want to reach out, take her hands in mine, offer comfort in some way, but I don’t. Just last week, I touched every part of her, drank her in, watched her fall apart. But today, I don’t know whether I can touch her. Or if I’ll ever have the chance again.

She sucks in a bracing breath.

“Princess?”

“We’re scheduled to be announced in a few minutes.” She smooths down her dress. “Are you ready?”

“I’m fine.” I want to ask,Are you?

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