Page 91 of Prince of Night and Storm
My hand curls, nails pricking my palms, sharper than I remember.
It is not in me.
For the sake of my House I would try, but I would fail. I know myself.
“Force is weakness and the reason why this city stagnates, because few of us has the power to commandwillingness.So prove your weakness, Prince. Prove your impotence. Take from me by force what you can't otherwise win because you can offer me nothing I want. Because youarenothing I want. But you best kill me when done.”
Blue eyes sear mine. He’s white, with anger or some other emotion, I don't know. The evening breeze whips around us, his silky blue-black hair obscuring his face a moment.
“Will you come to me then, if I wait? Will you give me your allegiance, your body, your soul?”
“I don't know, Renaud.”
“Aerinne,” he says after I've turned and walked three steps. I stop, but don’t face him again. “What I want from you is neither simple nor temporary. True rape, of body or will, is a contemptible exercise with no victor, and like you I'm no fool. I know you better than you think. You understand the game we now play?”
I stiffen.
He chuckles. “You don't. You've thrown down the gauntlet, Malisse ni, my halfling. When you come to me it will be because you want me.”
I'm caught by the spell of his words though my back is to him and he can't use the hypnotism of his eyes.
“Because youneedme.”
Warm breath on the nape of my neck, though he's not close.
“Because your soul craves mine above all others.”
A shudder of denial, a foreboding of that future savage need, tears through me. I exhale, the breath shaky.
“When I am done convincing you of my power, myright,not only will you come to me willingly, you will crawl through black flames, skin and sinew stripped from your bone, if that's what it takes.”
Composed despite my wildly racing heart, I say, “But you’ll crawl to me first.”
As I stalk away, focusing on one click of my heels at a time, he says nothing.
Silence is not denial.
I leave the courtyard, though not returning to my father. I need a few minutes to regain my composure. More than a few minutes.
This ball isn't over, the dance between the Prince and I barely begun.
The night will be long and I brace to only go down fighting, all the while wondering at the one glaring omission in our conversation.
Theone personhe hasn't mentioned.
Whose death should be the writ for my immediate execution.
1 The father of the Princess will have her a short while longer.
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
THE HIGH TABLE
Isearch for my father, ignoring the undivided attention of bored vultures—though I begin to think vulture too dignified; magpie is more appropriate—as I wade through viscous stares.
Curiosity, disapproval, amusement or disdain in various degrees beat against my neck, a battery of pitiless gazes. All the attention would be daunting if I gave even one fuck but alas, I have less than zero to give. I leave that to my Lord.
