Page 14 of Cinder
Cin tried to hide the twist that set in his gut. This was nothing but a joke, and Cin attempted to respond in kind. “Are you planning to banish me for it? Icango back over the balcony, if you wish.”
“Heavens, no. You’re far too pretty to let fall, with that cloak”—the prince motioned to Cin’s shoulders, then his head—“and this hair and—” His fingers brushed one of the wisps coming off the top of Cin’s headpiece. “Are these really feathers? Tell me you arenotone of those Plumed Menace fanatics.”
Those two words—Plumed Menace—made Cin feel faint, but then he put the rest of the sentence together. One ofthose.
There werefanatics?
That was news to Cin. Uncomfortable news, if vaguely flattering. But he still didn’t want to be seen as one of them. Any connection to the Plumed Menace was one too many. “I promise, I’ve cared for pigeons long before the Plumed Menace emerged. These are just their feathers.” With a dash of magic, Cin thought. But the prince didn’t need to know that. “I keep a few of them at home.”
If Prince Lorenz caught onto Cin’s hesitation, he didn’t show it. “How sweet! You must be quite good with them to receive such lovely gifts.”
It was silly to assume the pigeons had given them to Cin directly, when so many of their lost feathers naturally ended up wherever they did, but it was the first time anyone had ever implied that Cin might be useful for more than tending thehouse—good at something heenjoyed. It made his gaze a little hazy. Prince Lorenz seemed not to notice in the low light.
“The castle has a dovecote, yetthey’venever given me a fancy cloak,” he added.
“I don’t think you need one. You stand out just as you are.” The compliment slipped out, not in flirtation or banter, but sincerity. Cin swore he was going to blush again. He pushed back his hair, trying to give his body some distraction from the embarrassment. “I’m sure people tell you that all the time.”
“Not with quite that phrasing,” the prince replied, but he sounded a little off-kilter. The moment passed in a flash, his smug grin returning. “But of course I stand out. I am the prince, after all. I have this obnoxious crown and too much power for my own good.”
“The crown is a bit much,” Cin agreed, though he actually kind of liked it. “Do you intend to misuse your power, then?”
Prince Lorenz smiled, and there was a bite to his baring of teeth. “Why else do you imagine my parents are looking for a gentle and good partner for me when I’m king?” The expression faded back into a smirk nearly instantly, though, and a part of Cin grieved that. There seemed something morerealin the anger, like Cin could almost see beneath his cold, humor-masked waters into a darker, deeper place. The prince leaned in conspiratorially, raising one hand in front of them like he was painting a scene. “I was thinking: giant statues of myself—shirtless, of course—in every town, and the only holiday will be Lorenz-day, a celebration based around the thrill of an orgy with me.”
Cin snorted, and despite still wishing for the sharper version of the prince, he couldn’t help the quirk in his lips from the joke. “You may want to rethink the shirtless part. Too many of the young people will end up in love with you. You’ll need to increase the Lorenz-days to keep up with your rising number of orgies.”
“Ah, true, true.” He sighed dramatically. “What a shame. I do so love an orgy.”
Now, Cin was curious. “Do you actually have a lot of those?”
“Not a one.” Prince Lorenz laughed. “The truth is, too many people in bed become overwhelming. Too many people...” He made a face. “I prefer one or two. Then I can really focus on them, you see? Besides, this is the most people this castle has seen in a good long time.”
Cin couldn’t tell if the prince was leaning in again, or if he’d just been this close already, their shoulders nearly brushing and their knees still bumping casually against each other. He could feel the prince’s breath on his neck. It was as terrifying as it was exhilarating, and Cin didn’t know whether to want for more or for less, his body telling him one thing while the rational center of his mind screamed for the other.
He was saved from having to make either choice by a barely human sound of triumph from behind them. “He’s here!”
One of the balcony curtains was thrown aside as three people around Cin’s age tried their best to sidestep the prince’s personal watcher. They looked far less embarrassed by the intrusion than Cin figured they should have, considering just what Cin knew they might have found here had they been a little earlier. The prince jolted, a flash of distress crossing his face.
Cin was certain he was the only one who was close enough to catch it—another glimpse into the darkness—as it quickly transformed to a look of arrogant annoyance. “Ah, I see my esteemed guests can wait no longer.” He stood, sweeping up his jacket to casually sling over one shoulder. “Perhaps one or two of us...”
But at that point, Cin could barely hear him over the sudden chatter out in the corridor. As the curtain was pushed further back, he could see a crowd of would-be suitors gathering in the better-lit area there as news spread. Through the growingthrong, Cin caught sight of a familiar ornamented hat of dragonfly wings. The determined expression Floy wore beneath it was almost scary. Cin had seen Floy’s commitment to their goals, and he was glad he wasn’t one of the contenders standing in their way.
He was, however, still standing on the balcony.
The one Floy was currently headed towards.
Cin slid off the bench, taking a step back as he did. Prince Lorenz was still at his side—seemed to be moving with Cin, as though a part of them were attached—and Cin whispered to him, “It seems this is my time to fake that death again.”
“No,” Prince Lorenz turned, reaching for Cin. “Please stay; I’d rather—”
As adamant as the prince sounded, Floy was pushing closer to the balcony with each step. Cin swore Floy’s eyes narrowed as they looked toward him in the shadows, and all he could think of was the way that they had stared at the feathers from his trio of pigeons, like they were looking for something. He turned, and jumped.
Cin was falling, but only for a moment. He grabbed the balcony’s edge, biting his tongue against the pain the sudden motion shot through his sides, and swung down the way he’d come. As he descended the ornamentation on the ballroom wall though, the flapping piece of his torn boot caught on a curve again. He barely managed to keep hold of the wall to stop his ankle from twisting. After a moment of fiddling, grunting with each fresh ache between his ribs, another stitch popped. He dropped gracelessly to the ground.
His shoulder ached—that would surely bruise later—and every breath left a tiny agony in his side, but he picked himself up, ducking through the ballroom’s revelers like a ghost in all his sparkling gray. Beneath the magical glamor, his shoe slapped the ballroom floor as he ran.
Shouting erupted behind him, and he worried that his fall had caught the watch member’s attention despite the shadows, but when he looked back, he realized this commotion was worse.
Prince Lorenz waschasinghim. He’d pulled himself over the top of the stairwell banister and was sliding down it, shouting after Cin. Every nerve in Cin’s body caught fire. He slipped and skidded with each step he took on his broken boot as he sprinted through the entry halls. The bindings keeping his chest flat felt as though they were a cage around his lungs, making each breath harder than the last. The harder he pushed himself, the more he was forced to slow, his lungs burning and dark spots clouding across his vision. As he burst into the crisp night air, his sole caught on the stone steps. He stumbled, gasping, once, twice, as his muscles struggled to come back to life.
