Page 34 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood
“Who was that?” I hear her whisper to Renard as they make their way back to the ballroom.
“An old friend…”
“That was a weird interaction,” I say, watching them. “Do you know what he said to me?” I turn toward Harrow, only to find the corridor empty. Damn him and his vanishing. He hasn’t left the castle though. I feel him here.
The hallway is eerily silent as I move farther down it. The first set of double doors I come upon are slightly ajar. The castle remains under strict lock and key when celebrations are at hand. Which means this room is not open by accident.
The stuttering creak of rusty hinges makes me turn over my shoulder to make sure I haven’t been heard. When I’m certain noone is following me, I duck inside and close the doors behind me. The smell of dust and forgotten furniture fills the space.
I’m in one of the smaller, unused ballrooms. Castles are so absurdly large that I doubt even a third of the rooms ever find purpose. My eyes are slow to adjust to the darkness. If only I had brought a torch with me.
The cloudy sky outside parts, spilling moonlight through the towering windows. I scan the room, seeking.
“Boo.” Harrow’s voice comes from just behind me.
A squeak of surprise slips out as I whirl. My memories never paint Harrow as tall as he is. His height takes me by surprise every time we stand this close.
His mask is more intricate than I realized. The solid silver is actually broken up by diamonds around the eye and nose holes and tiny bones that run all along the outer edge.
The bones call to me. Lifting my fingers, I trace them along each small piece.
“Want me to leave it in your garden of bones after the night’s frivolities have concluded?”
I can’t tell if he’s mocking me or being serious. “You don’t think my secret hiding place is… odd?”
He chuckles. “It is definitely odd. I’d manage a guess that other mortals don’t understand you.”
I huff a laugh. “Very true.”
“Their loss. I find your strangeness to be the most enticing thing about you.”
His energy presses in around me and I’m reminded of just how different he and Cassius are.
Cassius lights me up. He’s kindling, feeding into my own embers, igniting my fire so it’s always flickering more fiercely than before. Warm and warmer. We fit, coexisting in laughter and light.
But Harrow. He’s ice in my veins, chilling me to the bone, isolating the heat in my blood like it’s a rarity, a commodity not to be taken lightly. His chill forces me to burn brighter, hotter, setting my soul aflame, reminding me that I’m alive. He draws my flames out, making me crave the ice, making me want to follow him down into the darkness. He’s shadow and snow.
“Were you looking for someone before?” He cocks his head, shifting his pale blond hair so that it falls over one eye.
“I was looking for you.” My voice is a whisper.
Harrow’s eyes narrow. “Ah, but you looked so preoccupied at the party. Dancing between walls lined with silver platters. If it were my kingdom, they’d be topped with heads not pheasants. Including the head of your littleCassius. How joyous you looked, eyes bright, lost in the arms of your mortal prince. I don’t think you missed me at all.”
Is he… jealous? The idea sends a thrill racing through my center. “Well, that mortal prince had the balls enough to ask me to dance.”
“To ask your futurehusbandif you hadpermissionto dance, you mean.The King of Honenbrie. As if he already owns you just by claiming your hand.”
My cheeks heat. “He doesn’t…” I trail off. He doesn’t what? Own me? I know as well as anyone the moment he was promised my hand I became his property. I straighten, chin raised high. “He may think that, but he doesn’t own me. No one owns me.”
Harrow grins. “I quite agree. Which is why I will do him no such courtesy.” His hand lands on my waist, pulling me against him. The other snakes his fingers between mine. His touch is cold. As cold as I remember it. But his skin is velvety beneath my fingers.
“There’s no music,” I breathe.
“Are you sure?” And just like that, I hear it. A haunting tune playing softly from somewhere nearby. No, from within my ownmind. Eerie but lovely, with tragedy woven into each note. Bows pull across violins and fingertips dance atop harps. The music causes a visceral reaction within me.
A clumsily stitched seam opens within my heart. There’s a sharp stinging beneath my ribs. Is that where such devastating notes flow from? Somehow, Harrow has stolen away my sadness and spun it into a beautiful song. The music tugs at my chest, reminding me of days spent hidden in my garden, alone with my bones, mourning loss and honoring life.
The weight of my gift bears down, pressing in on my skeleton and squeezing the air from my lungs each time I am unsuccessful. Each time I lose an animal for good.
