“Nonsense, the less I know the better. The court may turn up their noses and spout their theories, but once you are their princess and next in line to the throne, they will swallow their own gossip,” he said.
“I didn’t-”
“I will go get Ira,” he said, squeezing her once more before turning and leaving her alone.
Luci’s heart squeezed painfully in her chest, and she watched Brielle wrap her arms nervously around her waist. If she could have saved her from him then she would have many years ago, but that was the thing about love- sometimes it was a prison. That’s what Lord Treveon’s love was for Brielle. A cage she would never be able to free herself from.
It was too much to watch her stand there and hurt, so Luci opened her mouth to tell her she was there, but the sound of a door opening had her closing her lips tight. Jaw aching from how hard she was clenching her teeth, Luci pressed her eye against the small hole and found Prince Ira standing a few feet from Brielle, bowing.
Just as handsome as he had been the night before, his brown hair was perfectly in place yet somehow with a casual muss to it. As if everything was effortless to him, including his perfect hair.Something flashed over his controlled features as he lifted his head and took in the sight of Brielle. Luci held her breath as she waited for him to say the condemning words.You aren’t her.But they never came.
“Brielle,” the name was a question and an answer as he scanned her. “Your hands-.”
Brielle clasped her gloved hands together. “Healing.”
He nodded, but there was a tightness in his jaw that said he wasn’t satisfied. It was an effort not to avert her eyes to take in her hands, which held the marks from last night.
“I am honored that you have taken time to visit Blythe. I apologize that we were not as ready to receive you as we should have been,” Brielle said.
She was perfection. Every inch the lady she was raised to be. This was who she was meant to be. Never stumbling or betraying her nerves.
Prince Ira tilted his head to the side, lips thinning. Luci couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew they were tricking him. What would happen if he brought attention to their lies and plots?
“I owe you an explanation and much more,” Prince Ira said, running his hand through his hair.
“You do not owe me anything, your highness,” Brielle said, bowing her head.
He stepped towards her. “Ira, please.”
There was only a moment of hesitation before Brielle inclined her head with gentle grace and said, “Ira.”
It felt as if Luci were watching a play in the capital as they had done ten years ago. A carefully crafted dance with the outcome assured. Each piece led to the next till a neatly stacked plot evolved. Except that was Brielle standing there. Her future is undecided.
“Please, would you sit so I can explain?” he asked.
Brielle’s chest heaved with a long breath, but she didn’t argue as she took a seat on the chaise, angling her body towards where he stood. There was nothing relaxed about her posture or the way her hands clasped tightly together, likely white beneath the gloves. Prince Ira didn’t notice as he took the other end of the chaise and faced her, though at this angle, Luci could make out every small detail of his face.
“I hardly know where to start-” he said, running his hand over his face and chin.
“Perhaps, from the beginning,” Brielle offered gently.
He laughed, but there was an edge to it.
“I’m afraid the beginning would be centuries before either of us was born, but I will do my best. It’s the least I owe you.” A steadying breath. “When I saw you last night, I expected - I’m not sure what I expected, only that it was not you.”
Luci swallowed, feeling something stick in her throat. The way he said the words was nearly reverent, a caress of midnight. It made her mind cloudy before she realized the words were not directed at her, but more than that, it was just his charm. The carefully crafted armor was as easy for him as breathing.
“The Cinderella,” he said, meeting Brielle’s eyes.
It was what he had called her last night when they were dancing. She hadn’t told Brielle, and she wouldn’t know the reference. If he didn’t know by now, he would soon enough. Anxiety raced alongside the beat of her heart.
“I am afraid I don’t understand, your- Ira,” Brielle said.
Ira shook his head. “Of course, it’s just when I called you that last night, it was with a hope I hadn’t ever felt before. An impossibility suddenly becomes possible. You.”
This man. If he didn’t get to the point quickly, Luci had half a mind to go downstairs herself. She would have been lying if she said his words weren’t ensnaring her like vines over abandonedshutters. Some magic woven between the words, consuming all it touched.
“The things I am going to share with you-” He tapped his fingers on his thigh, once, twice. “No one outside of my family knows. It is a poisoned history.”