Drawn by the minor imperfections, Luci freed herself from Prince Ira and walked over, aware of the watchful eye of guards stationed every ten feet or so. Eyes on her as if she were hiding a dagger beneath the silk of her dress and would threaten their prince at any moment. Yet no one said anything as she made her way to the wall and ran her finger over the gold trimming.
This was new, or else she had somehow overlooked it the last time she was there. Her finger traced a small golden tower littered with flowers at its base.
“Rapunzel,” Prince Ira said as he came up beside her.
“The detail is-.” She tried to find the words, but there were none for the craft carved into the marble.
“My father had it done last year for Yule. A reminder of our heritage.” Prince Ira said, though there was a heaviness to the words.
Luci followed the vines until she came across a mermaid sitting on a rock. The Little Mermaid. A few feet down was a flurry of snowflakes over a mountain. The Snow Queen. Every fairytale they had ever been taught was carved into the wall like history instead of myth. She came to that of a red rose and carefully ran her finger over every layer of the bud, and down the stem, and for just a moment, she could have sworn she believed. Believed in the myths and legends as a strange feeling settled over her body. Something more.
“This one is Bri- my friend’s favorite,” she said, her heart speeding up at the near miss.
His eyes on her were warm, burning into her bare skin over her neck, but she refused to turn to him, to see the damnation of knowing that would be there.
“It’s my mother’s as well. My sister, too,” he said.
Luci snorted, relieved at the lack of treason and imposter being yelled to the nearby guards.
“Of course it is. It is your family’s legacy after all, right?” she said with a smirk.
“You don’t believe in fairytales, Cinderella?” he asked.
That name again. Luci twisted her body to face him and found him so close that if she breathed too deeply, their bodies would touch. His eyes watched her, a hunger in them that should have made her nervous, but instead inspired sensations that were much repressed and foreign to her.
Swallowing hard, she ignored the shot of whatever it was that ran through her stomach. Nerves. Probably just nerves.
“Why do you call me that?” she asked, mouth dry.
“I asked my question first,” he said.
His eyes were the green of the strawberry fields she had grown up with. How did one get their eyes to be that green? It was unsettling, but she would be lying if she said they weren’t mesmerizing. Designed to ensnare innocent maidens and lock them away in faraway towers.
“Technically, I asked about the legacy thing.” Her voice was a whisper, sucked away into the tunnel vision filling her gaze.
“Yes, it’s my family’s legacy,” he said, with a quirk of his lips. “Your turn.”
Brielle’s words, just a few hours ago, flooded her mind. If magic were real, then maybe it did bring her to Blythe, to Brielle. Even if it did exist, she couldn’t thank it the way Brielle did because it should have given Brielle everything. Not just some orphan who somehow wormed her way into her heart. No, if magic were real, if fairytales were real, they weren’t enough.
Luci opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought and then shut it abruptly. Perhaps telling the prince of fairy tales that she believed his family’s claim was nothing more than propaganda to keep them in power in the middle of his palacewas a bad idea. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that it might be on par with committing treason by impersonating nobility.
The left dimple appeared, and why was that so charming? Why did it make her legs fill with warmth? When he breathed out, he was close enough that she felt the whisper of it on her lips, tingling where it touched. Oh, light above. Luci licked her lips, and his eyes tracked the movement, lingering.
“Why don’t you believe in them?” he asked.
“I didn’t say that I didn’t,” she whispered.
“Mm,” he answered, eyes running over her face and back to her lips.
There was a tension inside her body that had never existed before. It was intoxicating and terrible all at once. Like the slightest movement would fracture it into a thousand pieces. He shifted his body, effectively pinning her against the wall. His tall body towered over her in a way that made her feel small, but somehow powerful.
Just as she thought she might eviscerate beneath his gaze, he leaned into her. Her back gave way, and she lost her balance as a door opened behind her, but before she could attempt to right herself, his hand was on her lower back, holding her steady.
His grin was made of mischievous intent as he said, “The library is through here.”
The perfumed air was addling her mind. She was forgetting who she was. Lucinda Blackthorn, orphan. An orphan who had no business swooning over a prince. Even if he wasn’t exactly what she had expected. Though she didn’t have the time or energy to devote to understanding the why of it.
Giving him her best attempt at a glare just to establish that she was not falling for his act, she turned and immediately stopped. One step, and she was paralyzed. Books. Thousands of books. Her steps were not her own, guiding her closer to the trove oftreasure that had opened before her. A million stories lived in this domed room that held leather-bound pages from floor to ceiling.