Page 8 of The Prince of Power

I shrug, and he shifts in his seat. “I still see her sometimes, but she… She doesn’t like parties. At all. She’s always studying. The only way I could get her to come is if our friend Sienna…” He shakes his head. “But she won’t come, because she thinks… She thinks Thornecroft is a cult.”

“That’s what they all think. But you know we’re not a cult. You can convince Ava to come.”

He shuts his eyes. “You don’t know Ava. She’s really…strong-willed. It’s hard to make her do any?—”

“But she’ll be here on Saturday at the festival, because you’ll make it happen, Rhett.” I tap my fingers on the table. “You don’t have a choice.”

“Yes.” The word is hoarse. He clears his throat. “I’ll talk to her. I don’t think… She’s probably the only virgin I know. It would be hard to find a group of them in two days.”

My lips quirk. “A hoard of virgins would be hard to find on such short notice. Just bring Ava. If I like her, she’s all we’ll need.”

He flinches ever so slightly.

I wave a hand. “You’re dismissed.”

He looks startled as he glances around at the other guys. He stands up and walks quietly out of the room.

Kane laughs when the door clicks shut. “Pussy.”

I smile. “He’s useful.”

“That’s all he is,” Asher says. “Can you imagine what the girl must be like? And how will we know she’s a virgin?” He grimaces. “Do they examine them or something?”

Kane smirks. “I’ll do it.”

“Yes,” I say. “The Sacred Light will send a doctor, but I’ll have to interview her first to make sure. She’s a church girl. If she’s as simpleminded and boring as Rhett, she’ll be devoted to her religion. Definitely chaste.”

Asher snorts. “That’ll be fun for you. Lots of missionary.”

I smile. “I doubt that. By then, she’ll be eager to please me.”

4

Ava

Gravel crunches under Rhett’s Prius as we drive up the mountain. The castle looms above, like something stuck between history and a half-remembered dream—a place too strange, too perfect to ever have been real.

We don’t have castles in California. Thornecroft is only an imitation of one.

I’ve heard from Rhett that Damian Cross doesn’t even call it a castle like everyone else. He calls it a house. Rhett was so impressed by that at the time, like it was a sign of humility rather than outrageous entitlement.

I’ve never taken a tour of the castle, but I’ve been told that it was built a hundred or so years ago by Damian’s great-grandfather. It was donated to the university when he died, because apparently, Damian’s family has more than enough houses that even this extravagant one wasn’t missed.

“Okay,” Rhett says as he pulls into the line for the valet. “Stay as close to me as you can the whole night.”

I shoot him a look I’ve been giving him since we were kids, and he lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m not babying you, I promise. These parties can get pretty…wild.”

I smile. “Are you worried I’m going to get drunk and start dancing on the tables?”

That seems to lighten him up. He pinches my cheek. “The fact that dancing on the tables is the worst thing you can think of makes me feel a lot better.”

He rolls down his window and hands his keys to the valet. I open the door and step onto the gravel. The air is cool and carries that faint, briny scent—the smell of early fall clinging to the coastline.

It had been surprisingly easy to get Rhett to agree to let me come, though he did seem a tad suspicious when I asked. Sienna was shocked when she found out he didn’t put up a fight, and she insisted on coming with us. But Rhett said he could only extend one invitation, and I’d asked first.

A couple walks ahead of us, the woman wearing a silk dress that catches the light like water. My cheeks warm. I should have asked to borrow something from Sienna. I’ve had this faded black dress since high school.

Rhett turns to me and smiles. “Are you annoyed that we’re fashionably late? Being late is not like my Ava.”

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