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I t’s the night of the ball. I hate these damn things. My father tells me it’s my duty to attend these formal get-togethers. I sigh, pulling on a black tunic and surcoat with black pants. I tousle my black hair, giving it a deliberately messy look—the perfect picture for a heartless dark prince. My appearance is as empty as I am. I’m a black void, consuming anything in my path. I just want to get this over with. Tonight, I am going to have to face her . The plan is to ignore her like I have the last four weeks, pawning her off on Kylo and James.

I have not spoken to her since that day in the training yard. But just because she didn’t see me, doesn’t mean I wasn’t watching her. One must keep their enemies close, or so I tell myself. She is dangerous. Nonetheless, the secret is, I love every second of it, and I hate myself for it. It’s a rush like I have never felt before—one that I am unfamiliar with. I am glad she thinks I am a monster. It makes things a lot easier—less complicated—if her eyes are full of fear and hatred when she looks at me

I make my way to the grand ballroom. It unfolds like a magical dream for some, but for me, it’s a nightmare. Ornate decorations in the kingdom’s colors—gold and red with white accents—adorn every inch. Golden pillars rise like the sun, catching the flickering glow of a thousand candles from the chandeliers. Their warm light spills across the marble floor.

Steering through the crowd, it’s hard to breathe. The air is thick with the weight of expectations and the scents of overpriced perfumes. Each step feels like trudging laboriously through mud—tedious and dull. The King’s frivolous get-togethers are nothing more than forced small talk gritted out of insincere smiles. The commotion around me drowns out my groans of frustration with my duty to be here. I find this whole ordeal to be suffocating.

Amongst the sea of people, I finally find Kylo sitting at a table near the dance floor. I walk over, and have a seat next to him. He hands me a glass of brandy. I knock it back, emptying the entirety of the glass, letting the warmth from the liquor spread from my chest to my veins. I start to feel lighter, a little bit more carefree.

Lilyana appears, radiant in a red dress, downing blackberry wine like always. Vanna stands on the dais with my father and her mother, observing the crowd. It’s almost strange seeing her mother out of her room; she looks thinner, paler—almost sickly.

I am lost in conversation with Kylo about the movement and restructuring of our troops in Skahlar when she enters the lavish ballroom. My breath hitches in my throat. Suddenly, my mouth is dry, and swallowing is a challenge.

Her gown is a solemn shade of gray, prison gray, reminiscent of the prison walls that once confined her. She is cunning. After watching her for weeks, I know she picked the dress to serve as a haunting reminder of her tumultuous past, and the danger that she poses. Reckless. Reckless yet radiant. Despite the somber hue, every curve of her figure is embraced with a quiet defiance, highlighting her resilience and strength.

The neckline plunges deep down between her ample breasts just above her navel, exposing some of her flesh. I bite my knuckles to hold in a groan. With thick black lashes framing her lavender eyes, like a sea of purple that I could drown in, she gives off a magnetic attraction that I am immediately pulled to, drawn to—like a magical tether. I feel a pull to her.

Conflict stirs within me. I am drowning in ambivalence and hues of lavender. She has haunted every waking second and every dream these last four weeks. I am not the only one to notice her. I swear, half the ballroom stops what they are doing as she walks in.

I have always been drawn to beautiful yet dangerous things. It’s like my darkness calls to her. Like the cursed roses, there is such beauty in something so forbidden, so dangerous.

She thinks I am a monster. I need her to remember that. I knew she was there, watching when I gutted him. My shadows tell me everything. She had to think—no, I need her to know I am a monster, and that she should stay away from me. I can never give her what she wants, what she needs. I have never been and never will be capable of love—nor do I want to be.

She weaves through the crowd of people, not paying any mind to the many eyes upon her, until she finds Elm and Larah. She still hasn’t noticed me. Well, that just won’t do. I stand, but Kylo grabs my arm.

“Here, Luke…” He presses another drink in my hand, and I sit back down. He knows me well, too well. “You look like you could use it.” I typically don’t drink like this. I hate feeling like I’m not in control. I knock it back anyway, taking yet another glass. He follows my line of sight to her. “She looks beautiful tonight, doesn’t she?” It isn’t so much a question, but a fact.

“Who?” I ask, but Kylo’s laughter erupts, loud and contagious. He’s caught me, and I laugh at my pathetic attempt to deny it.

The music is loud, bodies are swaying everywhere—some talking, some eating, some dancing. The prisoner is doing the latter. She is in the arms of Elm, smiling widely at him. He is sweeping her across the dance floor. Seeing her in his arms gives me this weird feeling in my chest, a weird tug that is foreign to me. It’s a discomfort I am unfamiliar with. I don’t like it. I feel uncomfortable with the way it settles in me and trickles into my stomach.

Elm must have said something funny because she throws her head back, laughter spilling out as her long, pale lavender hair sways with their movements. The sight is almost bewitching, causing my heart to pause for a brief moment. She looks genuinely happy, carefree. I haven’t seen that since she arrived. I wonder how long it’s been since she smiled like that.

“Prince Lukene?” A feminine voice pulls me from my thoughts. I turn and find one of my father’s advisor’s daughters standing before me. Gods and goddesses help me.

“Yes, Miya?” I know my tone sounds irritated; however, I don’t give a damn.

“Would you like to dance?” she asks.

“I don’t think?—”

“He would love to,” Kylo interrupts. My jaw clenches in annoyance. As usual, he’s right. I have a duty, a duty to my kingdom, to socialize. I stand, take Miya’s hand, and lead her to the dance floor, carefully placing her hand on my shoulder, ensuring it stays away from my chest. I take her other hand and whisk her into a dance.

As we are dancing, I feel it—the tingling sensation. Reign must be looking my way. I turn, seeing her staring at me. The second our eyes lock, she averts her gaze. The song changes to something more fast-paced, and we are moving. Miya is spinning and dipping. Suddenly, I don’t see her anymore. I look along the edge of the dance floor, and I find her draining a glass of wine with Lilyana. They are both laughing at something. She looks peaceful, free. But damn it, she has the first trial tomorrow.

I release Miya’s hand, and before I know it, another maiden stands before me. She’s the daughter of one of my royal guards. I’d bedded her once, but her name eludes me. Desperate to forget about Reign, I start dancing with her. Her hand slides from my shoulder to the back of my neck, her touch lingering, and I can see the desire in her eyes. Maybe I’ll use her as a distraction tonight. She’s beautiful, and perhaps that’s exactly what I need.

After two more songs, I notice Reign and Lilyana finishing another glass of wine. Kylo approaches Reign and asks her to dance. She accepts, cheeks flushed—probably from the alcohol. Stupid. Reckless. She and Kylo are dancing and smiling.

As the song ends, I excuse myself from my current partner and rush off the dance floor before another woman traps me.

Gods and goddesses, I hate these damned events. It’s bad enough I have to be here, but now I must babysit a prisoner to ensure she doesn’t drink herself into recklessness.

I decide it’s my duty as the one in charge of her to stop her from being so foolish. I push through the crowd, almost reaching her, when Cora steps in my way. Reign’s eyes finally meet mine, and they’re unreadable.

“There you are,” Cora coos. “I was just speaking with the king, and he told me to come dance with you.” I glance at my father, and he gives me a confirming nod. Damn it.

I place her hand on my shoulder and take her other hand in my own. I turn her so I can look at Reign. Cora is saying something, but I don’t hear a word she says. Reign never breaks my gaze. Her cheeks are flushed, and there is a glint in her eyes.

“How about I come to your room tonight?” Cora asks. I don’t answer. “Lukene?” she presses.

“I am busy tonight, Cora.”

“Lukene, it’s been so long. I miss you.”

“Excuse me, Cora.” I leave her standing there alone and stride over to Reign, Elm, Larah, and Lilyana. I grab Reign’s upper arm and pull her away, earning glares from my sister and the two prisoners.

“What in the burning double hells are you doing, Prince?” she seethes through gritted teeth.

I snatch the wine glass from her hand, setting it down on a table nearby. “The trials start tomorrow. What are you doing drinking so much?” I scowl. She tries to yank her arm free, but I don’t let go.

“I am not a child!”

“Then don’t act like one, Reckless.”

“Oh, so now you care?” Her eyes are on mine, looking for any sign of what she said to be true.

“Nope, not at all. But it’s my duty to ensure you don’t do anything foolish. I am paired with you, after all.” I raise one side of my mouth into a grin.

“You are insufferable,” she snarls. “You are a prince. Aren’t you supposed to be kind and patient?”

I laugh loudly from my chest. “Insufferable I may be, but what I am supposed to be and what I am are two different things. I am neither patient nor kind, but for you… I am trying to be both. However, both are running thin this second. You are going to bed now.” I pull on her arm to drag her to her room.

“I most definitely am not.” She yanks her arm again, but my grip holds firm.

I lean in close, my face brushing against hers. I notice her shiver at the contact. She needs to be reminded of the monster that I am, the cold heartless killer that I am.

My lips brush against the shell of her ear and I whisper, “Do not make a scene, Reckless. Do not forget who I am. Even if you do make a scene, you will end up leaving anyway. And we don’t want poor Elm or Larah to suffer because of your actions now do we?” I inhale deeply before I back away. She smells of sweet berries and warm vanilla. It’s intoxicating as much as it is distracting. I could breathe her in and stay drunk off the scent of her for eternity.

She grunts in frustration but walks toward the exit of the ballroom. I follow right behind to ensure she gets to her room—and not into any trouble.