Page 21 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood (Tales So Wicked #2)

The large hand of the second man hugs her waist. My eyes scan to him.

He’s nearly as large but somehow less menacing than the golden-haired man.

This one is wearing a silver wolf’s mask, with a dozen large sapphires lining the snout.

The deep-blue jewels sharply contrast the iciness of his pale blue eyes.

The mask stops halfway down his face, revealing a thickly carved jawline.

Deepest black hair is bound with a gold ribbon at the nape of his neck.

An exquisite crown sits atop his dark hair.

It’s ornately carved with silver and gold, but with the addition of a pair of bone-white antlers rising from the top.

The antlers are shimmery and carved from some sort of fine, pearlescent material.

His attire matches the others, but where the first man’s clothing is red and gold, this man’s is gold and blue.

He, too, sports a red rose, which sits neatly in the high left pocket of his trousers.

From what I gathered through the sea of excited voices as they made their entrance, the three of them are married.

The lion-masked man also puts his hand on the woman’s waist, not seeming to mind that his tanned fingers overlap the strong hand of the wolf-wearing figure.

What an unusual dynamic. How enviable it is to see a woman coupled up—or rather, throupled up—with two strong, handsome men who seemingly adore everything about her.

I’m so caught up in my gawking that I miss the introductions completely. The larger man’s fiery blue eyes land on me.

“Our sincerest congratulations to the future Queen of Honenbrie.” He speaks with a deep but eloquent voice.

“Yes, congratulations to you both,” the woman adds, giving me another bright smile.

“Thank you. How fares Montrésor?” Ebenest asks. His voice is warm but still sends ice crawling through my veins.

“It thrives.” He gives another grin, putting those sharpened teeth on display for the briefest of moments.

“There have been a great deal of rumors churning out from out west these past years.” Ebenest raises a bushy eyebrow.

“Indeed.” The golden-haired man’s mouth presses into a flat line.

“I’m certain a man of such high repute as yours does not easily fall prey to the rumor mill,” the woman says, her voice full of light. She smiles, but there’s a strength that cuts through the gentle charm. She’s feisty, I can tell. She has to be, I imagine, to keep two hulking kings in line.

Two kings . My mind drifts to thoughts of who I would select if I were to marry two men of my choosing.

Harrow is the first to come to mind. Mysterious, cool, but with a hidden warmth.

And then Cassius. His sunshiny personality would balance Harrow’s iciness and my melancholy so perfectly.

I peer over at Ebenest. My real marriage will look so different.

The trio departs, and the unbearable lull of impending doom settles over us once again. These parties last for far more hours than necessary. I wish they would just announce the engagement already and allow me to disappear to the solitude of my bed.

“Stop sighing, dearest. This is a celebration. Try to enjoy yourself. Many have traveled by carriage for days to wish you well.” My mother’s words are low enough for my ears alone.

I sweep my gaze over the crowd. Their presence here has nothing to do with my wellness and everything to do with an inability to pass up an invitation to a royal soirée.

They’re here for the food and drinks, to flaunt their fine clothes and painted faces.

I struggle to find more than a handful of faces turned my way.

Most are engaged in socializing, dancing, drinking the night away. I don’t recognize a single?—

My gaze halts. A figure catches my eye in the far corner of the Great Hall.

He’s tall, a head or so taller than most in attendance.

His wardrobe consists of a finely tailored black suit with metal scales on the shoulders and waist. A flowing black cape rests behind his shoulders.

The mask he wears is sparkling silver, but not of any animal.

A sharply carved skeleton shields his facial features from sight.

The raised skull is surrounded by green stones that glow unnaturally bright beneath the candelabras.

Two dark pits serve as the eyes of the mask.

The figure shifts. I’m just able to make out a shock of pale blond hair, its color turning golden as he moves beneath one of the sconces.

I straighten up in my seat, adrenaline whipping through my veins. It’s Harrow . I know it is. There are no wings, but it’s him. He halts his movements, leaning casually against the wall.

I move to rise, when my mother’s hand lands on mine. “Where are you going, my love?”

There’s no good reason for my absence. If I mention wanting food or drink, it will simply be brought to my seat. The ladies’ room could work. But the nature of this gown means I’ll have to take ladies’ maids with me. That won’t do. I could feign ill, ask to retire for the evening. “I?—”

“Good evening, Your Highnesses.” A familiar, warm voice draws my attention to the base of the dais steps.

Cassius stands, head to toe in an outfit of burnt orange and honeyed gold.

The fabrics bring out the red tint to his hair.

The mask he’s chosen is a fox, with the same fire-colored gemstones from the necklace he gave me embedded all the way around the outside of the mask.

“Prince Cassius,” my father greets him.

“We’re so glad you could join us for the betrothal festivities,” my mother coos.

“Of course. My congratulations, King Hoff.” He nods toward me. “Princess Lenore.”

“Many thanks,” my betrothed answers in a tone that teeters on boredom.

“I wonder, would His Highness mind if I stole the princess away for a dance?” Cassius flicks his coppery gaze toward me. My heart rate picks up.

“Not at all.” King Hoff dismisses us with a wave of his hand.

“Princess.” Cassius extends an upturned palm toward me.

Giddiness lights me up like a chandelier. My hand connects with his, heat seeping into my palm. He pulls me up from my seat, guiding me down the steps.

My thoughts turn to Harrow. I seek him out in the crowd but the space where he once stood is now achingly vacant.

My distracted state is my downfall. My foot catches on the second step. I stumble, the ostentatious dress throwing me off-balance. I’m going to fall face-first into the crowd below.

Strong hands catch my waist, hoisting me in the air. The throne room whirls beneath me before I’m gently set on my feet.

“I’ve got you, Princess,” Cassius whispers in my ear. He grins at me. The warmth in that dimpled smile threatens to burn me up, liquifying me like butter on warm bread. I melt for him, blushing like a teenager.

My balance remains precarious. Note to self, wine does not count as dinner.

Cassius pulls me in close, whisking me into the crowd with the seamless skillset only someone born into royalty and all the tedious lessons it demands possesses.

The heat from his hand can be felt on my lower back even through the many layers confining me.

I’m still aware of the others around us. I hear their hushed murmurs as we waltz past. Tongues loosen as wine flows and the whispers are less guarded than usual. Cassius must hear them too. He pulls me closer, capturing my gaze with his enchanting tawny eyes.

“You look radiant this evening.” He grins, spinning me around before drawing me in close.

“I feel like a puff pastry in all these frills.” I sigh.

He laughs, the boisterous sound bringing a huge smile to my face. “I happen to love puff pastry.”

There’s a lightness to his tone, but the way his eyes sweep down and back makes heat pool in my belly. “You look radiant as well. The fox suits you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Foxes are playful, lovely.”

“Don’t forget cunning.” He winks behind the ornate eye hole.

I laugh lightly. “A fox’s strongest quality, of course.”

“Wicked little creatures, truly. Always stealing food from my snares.”

“And you would model yourself after something so wicked?”

“Oh yes, Princess. I’m as wicked as they come. Around you, though, I’m on my best behavior.” Another wink.

“I suppose princes are wicked little things. Spoiled, entitled, prone to fits of rage if they don’t get what they want. And of course there are the women always lusting after them. I think the fox might be insulted.”

“Please, tell us how you really feel.” Cassius chuckles.

“You know, aside from the lustful women part, it actually sounds a lot like a prince is just a muscle-laden toddler.” I jest, of course. In actuality, I find myself rather flustered in the presence of someone so handsome and sure of themselves.

Cassius brings our joined hands to the center of his chest. “The final blow. I am wounded. Are you always this mean to people who are trying to sweep you off your feet?”

Embarrassment has my steps stuttering. “Apologies. It would appear defensiveness is my response to compliments, and insults are my way of flirting. How very unattractive.”

“And what does it say of me that I find the pointed attacks so punishingly attractive?”

My mouth drops open. The fire in my belly roars to life at the admission.

Cassius’s expression drops. Red deepens the coloring of his tanned skin. His steps falter and we bump into a nearby couple. He’s quick to apologize and move us back into formation.

“It would seem now I’m the one who’s flustered. A slip of the tongue, Princess. Please accept my apologies. I did not mean to be so forward.”

“No apology necessary.” We fall silent, staring into each other’s eyes.

In another life I would have given anything to be courted by Cassius.

Courted for real. Not this show of fun and affection that may only come from the knowledge that I’m already betrothed to another. No risk involved in that scenario.

The song ends and a much faster tune takes its place.

The familiar music has us all lining up.

Partners are traded three times throughout.

My heart sinks a little when Cassius drops my hand to take the blonde woman’s across from me.

My own hand is stolen away by a short man in a yellow and green jester mask.

He’s not nearly as graceful as Cassius. My eyes flick to where he’s currently dancing.

His partner is grinning beneath her lavender swan mask.

I’m spun to the right, landing in front of my next partner.

The hairs on my arms rise at the close proximity.

I find myself staring up at the towering figure of the King of Montrésor.

His golden lion’s mask glistens as he bows.

“Princess.” He holds a hand out, drawing me in the same moment I accept it. A blinding light flashes behind my eyes as images flood my thoughts. A castle, a rose, a hideous monster. Black fur and bloodstained teeth roar in my mind.

Magic sparks beneath my skin, tingling where our fingers meet and running up the length of my arm and down my spine.

The king’s lips fall open, a surprised expression taking over his masculine face. Did he see that same image when we touched?

Another image takes control of my thoughts.

The king currently holding my hand stands before a massive mirror.

The man looking in the mirror appears to be the same as the man standing before me, but the creature in the mirror is not human at all.

That black-furred beast stares back at him with matching blue eyes.

I suck in a breath. Are they one and the same? The images fade.

“Fascinating,” he breathes. “I had no idea the Princess of Roseheart was so… unique.”

Before I can ask him what he means, a familiar hand taps on his shoulder. “Mind if I take over?” Cassius is tense behind him.

“Not at all.” The king dips his head and kisses the back of my hand. “It’s been a pleasure.”

My nerves are still shaky when Cassius pulls me into his arms.

“How has your evening fared so far?”

“I’m enjoying myself immensely now.” I lean into him in a manner that I’m sure is far too intimate for someone who is not my fiancé. I can’t help it. I melt when I’m with Cassius. His energy is so inviting and warm.

The song ends too soon. Cassius bows low, and when he does, a flash of silver catches my eye. Harrow is watching me once more, his face still hidden beneath the silver skull mask. Cassius rises, obscuring my view.

“Are you well? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” Cassius raises a hand to my cheek.

Have I seen a ghost ? What in the world was all of that?

I sidestep the touch, now acutely aware of our closeness. “I need to refresh myself. Please excuse me.”

As warm as the company of Cassius is, I suddenly yearn for the cool, mysterious presence of Harrow. And maybe he will be able to make sense of these… premonitions, or were they glimpses of the past? Or perhaps just haunting scenes of an overactive imagination.

Cassius doesn’t have time to respond before I’ve slipped away. I just need to get to Harrow .