Page 32 of Prince of Masks (Hearts of Bluestone #2)
No matter how hard I try, I can’t get out of the fountain.
The water is shallow, enough that—parked on my ass—it only reaches to my pelvic bone… but it has soaked into the layers of my dress.
This dress weighed me down through the Walk of the Debutantes, it sagged on me through the dances, but now that it is drenched at the skirt and midsection, it’s as heavy as a tonne of marble.
I strain, hands flat on the bottom of the fountain, as though I can push myself up from the water—but I manage just an inch before I am collapsing back down with a grunt.
I take a moment, my lips shuddering from the cold, and I realise that the heat bubble doesn’t warm up the water of the pools and fountains.
It might as well be snowing all around me for how deep that chill reaches, all the way to my bones.
It’s the skirt that has me pinned down.
It might look whimsical, willowy, lovely, but all those layers and embedded crystals, every strand drenched, it’s a house resting on my lap.
I huff a cold, shuddered breath and look out to the Green Carpet.
Those silhouettes still drift up there, wandering in peaceful walks, weaving around the statues—but the party hasn’t come down this far yet.
Most of the guests will be hungry now, sitting themselves at the tables to eat. Some might still be dancing.
It’s why Father was looking for me, why Dray came to find me in the first place.
And so I don’t expect those silhouettes to reach me for a little while. They are in no hurry.
No one knows I am down here in the water.
I eye the border of the fountain.
If I scoot close enough, I can grab onto it, then maybe roll myself out. But that means submerging my upper body, and the crystallised bodice will get wet, quick.
Then…
I don’t know.
Then I will have to find Father.
I will have little other choice than to drag myself up there, sopping wet, if I can even withstand the weight of the dress that long, and find my father for his help.
His help will come—and it will be accompanied by a good scolding.
No, I can’t go to him.
Can’t let anyone see me in a drenched dress, water droplets falling down my face, my mouth blue under the faint pink lipstick.
I need to figure something out, and fast.
For now, I scoot.
My bum slides over the fountain floor, once, twice, and again and again—until I reach the edge.
Ok… Now I just have to lift a hand from the bottom…
Sounds easy enough.
But the moment I do, and all my weight shifts onto just one arm, one hand, I might collapse.
And if I do collapse, it will be onto my back—and I’ll be completely soaked.
My heart catches in my throat.
My widening eyes swerve to the trees curved around the fountain, where a shadow is drawing closer. A shadow that was hidden in the deeper, darker parts of the gardens.
I shudder a breath of hope.
It is drawing nearer. Nearer.
Maybe a saviour, someone who might help.
I don’t wait for the face to become visible, for the silhouette to step into the wash of the moonlight.
“Hey!” I call out. “Hey, over here!”
The shadow stills.
It considers me from the darkness between the trees.
It’s a struggle to keep the attitude from hitching my voice. “A little help?”
It works.
The shadow sags at the shoulders before it starts towards me. Soil turns to stone under dress shoes, and I know it’s a man just by the muffled sound of his walk.
But he is in no hurry.
His pace is slow—and I fast realise why.
Landon Barlow approaches, hands in his pockets, a mouth that is stroked over his face.
“Did Dray do this?” he asks, just cuts through all the bullshit and goes straight to it.
I sigh.
Sure, I could lie. Maybe it’s the jittering of the cold that distracts me from the mental energy of lying.
Maybe it’s sheer exhaustion.
Whatever it is, I just nod.
Landon eyes me over. “What is Dray’s number one rule?”
Don’t interfere.
He lives by that.
The only code that matters to him.
He will gladly interfere with others, but to do it to him? That’s a recipe for a broken nose, at best.
I plead with him. “I won’t tell. I swear, I am better at keeping secrets than you might think. Just… please, get me out of here. I’m freezing.”
That severe set of his mouth tilts, a look that says, ‘sorry’ before he starts for the path up the Green Carpet.
“Wait, Landon!”
He doesn’t.
His steps carry him to the edge of the path, too far from the fountain, and my heart decides to pound against my ribcage.
“I know about you and James!”
That freezes him.
Planted in place, he is as motionless as the statues dotted all over these lovely gardens. But there is tension in him, bolting his shoulders, and—as he slowly turns to look over at me—my insides writhe.
I almost shrink back, deeper into the water, under the dark, threatening stare he lands on me.
The bass of his voice drops so low that it becomes a growl, “What did you just say?”
“I know.” My breath shudders with my body. “I have known for a while. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t tell anyone. And I won’t—if you get me out of here.”
“James?” Landon turns to take a step towards me, and it is as threatening as his dark glare. “Your weaselly little friend? What’s that made one been saying about me?”
I shake my head. “Nothing, I—”
“You better be very fucking careful about what you say next, waif. Dray put you in the water—I will hold your head under.”
My shoulders curve inwards.
I should scoot back, away from his slow, advancing steps.
I swallow, hard. “He didn’t tell me anything. I saw in the maze at the academy. I saw ages ago, and I told no one. I swear I will keep your secret if you just get me out of here. That’s it. That’s all I want.”
His pace quickens, his steps bringing him too close to me, too quick.
I shrink in on myself, a cringe away from him.
Landon snatches out for me.
A wince cuts through my blue lips.
Then I am hoisted out of the water.
I stagger into him.
His hands are firm on my arms to steady me.
Then he takes a step back and looks me over.
“You need to dry off.” Landon’s jaw is tight, but the defeat in his eyes is something I am all too familiar with in myself. He jerks his chin to the direction he came from. “I know a spot.”
I guess we have a deal.