From across the crowded room, my gaze meets Senan’s where he stands next to his fiancée, arms clasped at his back, black wings tucked in tight. The bond between us urges me to go to him, but I must resist.
My gaze drifts to the woman on his right. Her glossy, violet hair contrasts beautifully with her silver gown and white wings.
Aeron lifts his champagne flute to his lips, muttering, “If you do not want the entire room to know you’re fucking my brother, then you need to stop staring at him.”
My own glass trembles in my clenched fist at his crude language. “I am not staring at him.”
“I’ve caught the two of you making eyes at one another at least ten times, and we’ve barely been here an hour.”
When Senan had offered Aeron as my escort, I had been under the impression that the man would be as charming as his brother. It would seem that is not the case. Aeron is curt and clipped and downright rude. And he definitely doesn’t like me, which is fine, I suppose, because the feeling is quite mutual.
Contempt rolls off his body, seeping into mine.
What was meant to be a whimsical evening has turned into a downright slog. Yes, the dining room is beautifully decorated, and the colorful gowns and ornate hairstyles are stunning, but that is where the pleasantness ends.
No wonder Senan never wanted to attend castle events all those years ago. The women come off as vapid and vain, and the men gawk or sneer. It’s awful.
Aeron glances sidelong at me, his silver eyes hard as steel. “I love Senan, but he has always been such a fanciful fool, believing any of us have a choice in our fates. If you know what is good for you, you’ll leave tonight and forget you ever met him.”
I am a grown woman, capable of making my own choices. If I choose to leave when Senan marries, then it will be because it is what I believe is best for me, not because some man who doesn’t even know me tells me to. “And if you don’t want this champagne poured over your head, I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself.”
I slip free of his gasp and guzzle what remains in my glass. Somehow, I manage to keep my false smile in place as I move between couples and groups of men toward the servant carrying a tray with more champagne. The only way I’m going to survive this dinner is to arm myself with alcohol.
Perhaps this night is a blessing in disguise. A much-needed dose of reality. Do I really want this to be my life? It’s clear that everyone we meet believes I’m sleeping with Aeron, and my escort has done nothing to alter the narrative. The men we meet leer at me, probably because they assume I’m a woman withoutmorals. The women glower, likely wondering if I’ll set my sights on their husbands next.
This is much worse than feeling like an imposter. I’m a bloody pariah.
I discard my empty glass on one of the many high-top tables scattered around the room and catch up to the servant when he slows to avoid running into an elderly gentleman’s cane. I snatch a glass like a lifeline. Champagne in hand, I inhale a deep breath and drown my sorrows with a bubbly gulp.
It’s impossible to pretend when Senan’s future is literally unfolding in front of me like a play on a stage.
“Allette?”
It’s loud in here, so I cannot be certain, but it sounded like someone said my name. Not wanting to give myself away, I take a few more steps before turning casually and finding none other than Lord Philip Windell staring straight at me. It’s so absurd, I almost laugh. Of course fate would choose this moment to intervene.
He hasn’t changed a bit. Same mousy brown hair. Same thin, slightly crooked nose. My gaze falls to the paunch testing his waistcoat and trousers. Well, most of him hasn’t changed.
Lord Windell takes a halting step forward. “By the gods, it is you.” His nose wrinkles. “What have you done to your hair? It looks dreadful that color.”
His face looks dreadful that color, but you don’t see me saying that out loud, do you? Still as much of a pretentious pig as ever. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
He presses a gloved hand to his chest. “Lord Philip Windell. Don’t you remember?”
“I’m afraid you must be mistaking me for someone else. I’ve never met anyone with the last name Withell.”
“Wind-ell,” he corrects. “Wind, like a breeze.”
If I still had my elemental magic, I’d breeze him right out of this room. “I’m sorry, sir, but I do not know you.”
His eyes narrow, and he shifts closer. His thick fingers lock around my wrist, keeping me here. The stench of cigar smoke assaults my nose when he speaks again. “Are you playing me for a fool?”
“I see you still have trouble keeping your hands to yourself, Windell.”
Philip drops my hand like it’s on fire. Excitement floods my stomach when I find Senan standing behind me. That is until I realize he still has his perfect fiancée in tow.
I’ve never seen a smile as false as the one Philip offers my prince. “Ah, Prince Senan. Always such a pleasure to see you.”
“Such a pleasure,” Senan drawls, silver eyes sliding to mine. “Are you enjoying yourself, Lady Wynn?”