Page 80 of Wicked Salvation

He’d never do that.

Would he?

XVII

LUCIAN

The cold bites a bit deeper in the courtyard that I expected. Now that night has fallen, winter has a way of reminding you that you’re alive—or that you’re pretending to be.

I light a joint that I won’t finish, leaning against a stone balustrade that overlooks the frozen fountain. It’s marble, veined and moss-bitten, with cherubs that look like they’ve seen too much. Quite fitting.

My parents pulled a few strings for me.

I was able to secure an invitation to this sorry excuse for an engagement party. After all, who would say no to the Duchess of Ebonleigh, the Queen’s niece? Who would dare incur the wrath of Earl of Thatchmere, a direct descendant of the King’s bloodline? The Augustine-Beaumonts are more than justwealthy,we’re pure-blooded, and though I never cared for it, it does come in handy from time to time.

Behind me, the party swells.

Laughter, string music, the clink of cutlery. All of it gilded rot, a performance built on bloodlines and debt. A deep breath warms me enough to consider going back in.

But I saw her.

Eden—her gown caught the light like frost on moonlit glass. She looked regal, untouchable. The moment our eyes met, my lungs had forgotten what to do. My fingers had tingled around my champagne glass, and the only thing I could do was raise my glass to her. Then I stepped outside, because as of recently she’s a terrible actor.

She wouldn’t have been able to keep it to herself that she saw me.

And ifhehad seen me, it would have thrown a wrench in my plan.

I stay outside for as long as I can manage, but my whole body is on fire. Knowing that Eden is so close? It’s like gravity—this thing she does to me. I had to close my heartentirelyto avoid her these past few weeks. But it’s like a spell. There’s no logic.

Just pull.

Even from across the ballroom.

Beyond the orchestra and crystal chandeliers.

Past every silk-gloved sociality and half-sloshed noble.

I still feel her.

I feel her always.

That’s why I need to do this.

When I take a look through the window into the ballroom, dinner is over. They’ve moved back to their strange way of mingling. It’s been years since I’ve been to something like this—but I still remember the disgust like yesterday.

It’s not hard to spot Eden in the crowd. She stands out like a flower in a garden full of thorns. She looks like a statue carved to be worshipped.

Eden is laughing at something her mother said, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. There’s a stiffness in her spine that only I would recognize. A trained posture. A prisoner’s grace.

Silas hovers at her side, one hand resting possessively at her waist. His smile is too wide, too rehearsed. More than anyoneelse in this room, he needs tonight to be perfect. It’ll bring him one step closer to achieving his plan.

Her ring catches the light.

God. It mocks me from here, gleaming like a noose in disguise.

Just then, a hush comes over the crowd. The host of the party steps forward, wearing a well-tailored suit and perhaps the only genuine smile I’ve seen tonight. It’s the tail-end of the party. Before it all breaks out into drunken dancing and outrageous laughter, it’s time for the toasts. He has a list with him. Presumably the people who have been selected to speak on Eden and Silas’ behalf to the crowd.

He clears his throat and starts speaking.