Page 62 of A Storm in Every Heart (Enchanted Legacies #2)

H undreds of masked nobles crowd around me, and though I don’t know who anyone is, I despise them all.

I loathe their happy chattering voices and their pointless conversations. I hate them for forcing me to socialize when I would rather lock myself in my room and rot.

I hate them because I can’t hate the person I’m really mad at.

I’m standing near the bow of my ship, leaning against the railing, and watching the last straggling groups of courtiers walking up the ramp to the deck.

We’re still docked in the harbor, but not for much longer.

As soon as the last of the courtiers make their way down from the castle, we’ll be setting sail.

It was my mother’s brilliant plan to have this ball on the deck of a ship sailing around the harbor rather than in our standard ballroom.

Admittedly, it wasn’t a bad idea. The ship looks nice covered in decorations and lights, and the excited crowd is enchanted by doing something slightly unusual.

They’ll be talking about this party for years.

And they’ll have a hell of a lot more to talk about if I fling myself over the side of the boat.

Not that I really would, but the idea has crossed my mind.

Just this morning, I’d been looking forward to this evening. I envisioned introducing Odessa to my parents, but now I’m torn between a desperation to see her and silent prayers that she doesn’t show up.

Odessa isn’t here yet—I’d know, as I’ve been obsessively watching the ramp up to the ship for the last half an hour, searching the eyes behind every mask for a hint of violet.

I assume she wouldn’t want to come, not after the scene in the garden this morning—not after she told me so clearly that she never wants to speak to me again—but I’m not sure.

I haven’t seen Daemon either, so maybe their whole family is just running late.

Waiting is torture.

“Ugh, I’m already ready to go home!” a frustrated voice says behind me.

I turn around and come face to face with my sister, Serena.

Or, almost face to face, considering she’s over a foot shorter than me even in her tall heels.

She’s wearing an emerald green ballgown and matching mask, and has a white flower in her dark hair, clearly reminiscent of the colors of the Hydrattan flag.

I slide over to make room for her next to me, and she leans against the railing.

“You look nice,” I say out of brotherly obligation.

She scoffs. “I look tired, which is what I am. I almost made Dellanore or Avaline pretend to be me.”

I crack a smile. “Don’t you think Prince Thorne would notice?”

“Not at all.” She scowls. “He’s awful. Even worse than I expected, and my hopes weren’t high.”

“So I take it you won’t be announcing an engagement tonight,” I joke, cracking a smile for the first time all day.

She shakes her head, her scowl growing deeper. “No, but it wasn’t even my choice.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“He doesn’t want to marry me,” she says incredulously. “Can you believe that?”

My brow furrows. “Actually, no, I can’t. What happened?”

Serena lets out another frustrated huff, then immediately smiles a wide fake smile, waving to a few courtiers behind us. “Wait for them to move along,” she says out of the corner of her mouth.

I nod, still shocked. Not that I wanted Serena to marry Prince Thorne, but I can’t imagine why he would be the one to reject the engagement.

My sister is a princess, wealthy in her own right and objectively beautiful, whereas Thorne is a fucking asshole.

She’s far too good for him. So, what’s the problem?

The courtiers move on, and Serena’s smile slides back off her face. “Sorry.” She sighs. “Anyway, Thorne isn’t looking for just any princess; he wants a sorceress.”

My eyebrows raise. “A human, you mean?”

Fae rarely use the word “sorceress.” That, along with “witch,” is a word almost exclusively reserved for humans with magic who somehow find their way into Ellender.

“No idea, I didn’t ask for clarification,” she huffs. “Apparently my magic isn’t strong enough for whatever precious magical babies he’s planning.”

I shake my head. “Fucking idiot. Maybe he’s just shallow and wants a human wife?”

She cracks a smile. “Are you saying I’m not as pretty as a human?”

“Of course that’s not what I’m saying,” I blurt out. “You can do far better than Prince Thorne.”

“Oh, I know that.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m offended, obviously, but at least now I won’t have to marry him.”

“You wouldn’t have had to anyway. Father never would have made you go through with it.”

“I don’t know,” she says dubiously. “Magnus has been in his ear lately about what a benefit to us it would be to have an alliance with Vernallis.”

I gesture aimlessly toward where the Vernalli and Hydrattan nobles are happily mingling. “Is this not friendly enough?”

Serena shrugs. “Don’t ask me.”

My brow furrows again. “It seems like Magnus has been in Father’s ear a lot as of late.”

Serena purses her lips. “I know. I’m honestly just glad he’s delegating to someone. You know how controlling he can be.”

“Oh, I know, believe me.”

We fall silent, and I adjust my black mask on my nose before my gaze falls back on the ramp up to the ship. Still no Odessa…

“Speaking of ‘pretty…’” Serena says, drawing my attention back to her.

I raise my eyebrows. “Were we speaking of that?”

She waves a hand in the air. “Before. Whatever. I just wondered if you were going to tell me about the girl.”

“What girl?” I grind out, purposefully misunderstanding.

“The Vernalli girl you’ve been spending all your time with the last few days. The entire court is talking about it. I wondered if there would be an engagement announced tonight, after all.”

I scowl. “She’s no one. Nothing is happening, the court just likes to talk.”

Suddenly, as if punctuating my point, a ripple of whispers passes over the ship. Serena looks past me and smiles smugly. “That’s odd, because no one just arrived.”

I whip around so fast I have to catch myself against the railing. Fortunately no one notices, except perhaps Serena, because every single person has stopped to watch as Odessa makes her way up the ramp to the ship.

She’s wearing a silver mask that covers her eyes and nose, but there’s still absolutely no question that it’s her. She looks perfect. Her hair is long and loose, her cheeks are flushed, and she’s wearing a silver dress that looks like it was painted onto her body.

I can’t move. I’m rooted in place, watching the way the lights reflect off her dress and her huge violet eyes scan the crowd, looking for someone. Me? Or someone else?

I’m overwhelmed in a way that’s hard to describe. Not just by her beauty—though, honestly, yes, that’s part of it—but by the realization of how well she fits in here. She would make a perfect princess, but she doesn’t want to be. She doesn’t want me .

I yank my eyes away and turn my back.

My sister looks away too, refocusing on me. She cocks her head. “You certainly seem agitated if she really is no one.”

“I’m not agitated,” I snap.

Serena smiles. “Right, of course you're not.”

I glower at her. “She’s attractive, sure, but that’s all it is.”

Serena’s smile falters. “I don’t want to hear that! I’d like to think you were raised to be a better man than that.”

Serena is so much older than me it’s almost like being scolded by my mother, and I duck my head, suitably ashamed. “Fine. Sorry.”

She scoffs. “I’d be angrier if I thought you really meant it. You like her, I can tell. Why don’t you introduce me?”

“No!” I say so fast her face falls. I clear my throat. “I mean, no, that’s not a good idea. I’m already betrothed, remember.”

“Right, and where is Lyra this evening?” Serena asks in a tone of mock concern. “Shouldn’t she be with you if you’re so interested in her?”

I grit my teeth. “Good point. I think I’ll go find her now. Excuse me.”

I walk pointedly away from Serena, nudging the crowd out of the way. I couldn’t care less about finding Lyra, but I suppose she’s not the worst person I could get stuck spending this evening with. At least if I’m with Lyra, I’ll have a good excuse to avoid Odessa.

It takes me a bit longer to find Lyra than I would have expected. Usually I can always find her exactly where she’s supposed to be, whether that’s standing with her father, or following my sisters around like a lost dog. Tonight, though, everything seems to be going wrong.

I loop around the ship several times, wishing I’d worn a larger mask that covered more of my face. Finally, when I pass the bar for the third time, I spot her. Lyra is standing off to the side of the bar wearing a periwinkle dress and looking nervous.

I walk up to her. “Good evening.”

Lyra glances at me, swinging her long curtain of dark hair around. “Oh, of course it’s you,” she says, sounding both annoyed and distracted at the same time.

I stop and stare at her, startled enough to forget for a moment what I’m doing.

It’s not what she said, it’s who said it.

Lyra is always polite—too polite, if I’m honest. She usually curtseys and greets me formally as if we’ve never met, but for some reason tonight she looks like she’d rather be talking to anyone else.

“Are you feeling alright?” I ask, genuinely confused.

“Obviously,” she says acidly, then looks back at me and startles. Seeming to pull herself together, she shifts her posture and fixes me with a simpering smile. “Oh, of course. I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ve told you that you don’t have to call me that.”

“Right…” she says again, still sounding odd. Her eyes dart from me, to the crowd, to the bartender. She’s clearly still nervous.

Before I can ask what’s wrong, the bartender turns around and hands her two drinks.

“Who’s the other one for?” I ask.

“You, actually. I was going to come find you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She hands me a glass, still looking anxious.

I sniff the drink. “What is this?”

“Something strong.” She laughs lightly. “I’m not much of a fan of ships. I thought it might help to take the edge off, so to speak.”

“Cheers to that,” I mutter, thinking of Odessa again. Taking the edge off seems like exactly what I need.

“Cheers,” Lyra echoes, clinking her glass with mine.

I tilt my head back and drink the entire thing in one gulp.