Page 70 of The Gilded Fae (Royal Fae of Rose Briar Woods 2)

I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. I’d just like to freshen up first.”

Frederick’s smile falters, making me wonder if he’d rather stay in.

“I’ll be down in a few minutes,” I tell him.

“Of course. We have plenty of time.” Frederick steps out, closing the door behind him.

As soon as he’s gone, my mind wanders back to Alex.

“These are not butterflies I still feel,” I explain to my reflection as I brush my hair. “They are merely hunger pangs.”

She doesn’t believe me any more than I do.

Thirty minutes later, Frederick and I arrive. Like Frederick’s family, Candace’s uncle keeps a townhouse in the city. A black iron fence lines the perimeter of the property, its scrolling pickets decorative but sturdy. Rose bushes boasting golden blooms line the entry, each meticulously pruned to the same height. Their fragrance is heavy in the warm evening air, attracting bees that buzz as they flit from one flower to the next.

I hold my breath as we pass them, thinking of the day Mother ordered the gardeners to remove all the roses from the castle gardens. Hundreds of the shrubs were dug up by their roots and tossed into piles in the middle of the courtyard, waiting to dry out enough they could be burned.

I remember it like it was yesterday—the smell of them rotting in those massive heaps. I will forevermore link their fragrance with the death of my father, along with my hatred for the human girl who was the cause of it all.

I’m in a foul mood when we reach the entry step, not particularly eager to spend the evening with Candace and her family.

The maid who answers the door greets Frederick by name, seeming overjoyed to see him. She leads us through the house and to the dining room.

“Miss Candace and Mr. Devereaux are just inside,” she says, and then she returns to her post.

Frederick opens the door and gallantly says, “After you, Miss Sabine.”

I make it two steps before I come to an abrupt stop, trying to make sense of the scene before me.

Candace and Alex are alone. They stand next to the table, far too close. Nearby, a shattered crystal glass lies in a liquid pool on the hardwood floor.

Candace presses a napkin to Alex’s thigh, attempting to dry a wet stain on the leg of his trousers. He’s arched away from her, obviously uncomfortable.

As soon as they see me in the doorway, they freeze. The blood drains from Alex’s face, making him look deathly pale. Meanwhile, Candace’s cheeks flush pink.

“Frederick,” she squeaks.

Frederick steps in behind me. He assesses the situation and then pins his gaze on Candace. “Are we interrupting something?”