The Ballroom Garden.
Oredison Palace, Gazda.
The Commencement Ball.

The night was cold, but someone had placed large barrels filled with fire throughout the garden path. They provided light and warmth to the couples who were strolling the narrow walkways. They whispered to one another, leaning in close, sharing body heat and kisses. Nearby, I heard the high-pitched laugh of a young woman and the swish of skirts along cobblestones. Happy, blissfully happy.

Their lives weren't dictated by a temple or a priestess or some damn archaic tradition. Those people were able to be in love. Passionately in love. They could kiss and touch and share a bed with the person they loved without having to even consider the fate of an entire country. They could merely exist.

No chains.

No goddess-given mark or unwanted crown.

My throat burned as I turned on my heels to look back through large glass doors that led back into the palace. The music had picked up again. Kai was dancing once more. My fingers shook slightly as I pressed them to my lips.

He'd kissed me.

A fist of anxiety seemed to tighten around my heart and I turned away, forcing myself to ignore the aching pain in my chest. I must have looked upset because everyone lingering near the ballroom doors suddenly found somewhere else to be. I was thankful for that, even more thankful that none of the reporters had followed me out here.

The night air was damp with the threat of snow. It seeped into my bare skin, making me shiver. I headed to one of the barrels, fighting every instinct that told me I should touch the flames there. For a moment, I just stood looking at it. I wanted nothing more than to bury my hands in those red-hot coals.

I wanted to sink into my power, let it hold me.

Goddess.

I wanted to be held.

But not like that, not when the embrace was meant to be a weapon. Not when there was selfishness entwined with the action. I wanted to be held and loved without any strings attached. Without feeling like I was a tool, an arrow being aimed.

The frigid air bit at my lungs, but I relished the pain. I told myself it was a punishment for how stupid I'd been just now. I couldn't stop thinking about that damn kiss. It had caught me off guard and I'd kissed him back. I'd missed Kai desperately and, for a moment, I'd forgotten all the reasons I couldn't have him anymore.

But even if I was mad at myself, it was nothing compared to the anger I felt for him. He'd had no right to do that. No right to lay claim to me in front of all of those people.

Not after everything that had happened.

If we were going to kiss again, it should have been my choice. I should have initiated it. He should have waited until I was ready—he should have had to wait to see if I would ever be ready.

Instead, he'd kissed me to prove a point.

He'd kissed me to anger Caine.

That tightness in my chest grew and I had to grit my teeth to keep from screaming in frustration. My hands shook and all I wanted was to disappear. I wanted to rage and throw things.

How dare he?

The light from the ballroom shone at my back, the shadows of moving people silhouetted on the cobblestones at my feet. The music had grown louder now, a spinning symphony of notes, and I knew Kai was probably dancing with Kinsley or Nadia now. I was glad he hadn't come after me.

And yet I almost wished he had.

My heart hurt.

I knew Caine would be mad if I didn't return to the ballroom, but the idea of walking back into that room and facing all of those stares...

I glanced down the pathway to where a man and woman walked, arm in arm, their faces bent close to one another. He kissed her cheek. She laughed at something he said.

My throat grew tight.

I envied them. To those people, it was a romantic night full of beautiful music and the hope of a royal marriage. They weren't concerned about the Culling. Instead, they were immersed in the evening. Drunk on the magic of it all.

And it was magical, I guess. Magic might be easier to come by, easier to enjoy, when your life wasn't the sacrifice required for it.

I glanced towards the brightly lit ballroom. Other people danced now. Even from my distance, I could make out the sea of swirling skirts. If Kai's dances with the goddess-touched girls were over, Caine would probably come looking for me. He'd need to do some damage control first, but he may have already done that.

The king's lover.

I let my fingers hover over the flames, almost too close. It used to make my mother nervous when I did this. I'd stand at the stove while cooking, my back to her, my hand discretely in the fire. She'd warn me not to get too close to the flames, not to come too close to the stove. She'd worry herself into knots over me. Mama knew I couldn't burn and yet she still made herself sick with stress.

She'd really fret over me now if she knew what was happening.

But I'd always been good at playing with fire. Even with my ability stifled, I hadn't stopped getting too close to the stove. I had, however, started to burn.

The liar.

The spy.

The rebel.

The king's lover.

I wondered how Caine would explain all of this away.

Synoder Raveena had called Caterine a whore for being with the king. I was sure similar words were coming out of Caine's mouth about me just then. And people would believe him. Everyone believed him. He'd probably call it a lover's spat. He'd make some excuse. He'd laugh. And he'd make sure everyone forgot. The papers would write what he wanted them to write and the people would see what he wanted them to see.

And once he was done revising the narrative, he'd come looking for me.

The last thing I needed was to be found out here by him. There were guards spaced around the garden and no way to leave except for the way I'd come in. If I didn't go back to the ballroom and Caine came looking for me out here, I'd be trapped.

But the thought of going back...

"Miss Benson?"

I spun, nearly bumping into the barrel of fire as I flinched backward. Darragh Blackburne moved swiftly and grabbed me, pulling be away from the fire before I could burn myself. He didn't drop his hand right away and instead, kept a light hold on my upper arm.

"Are you alright?"

I nodded, my voice coming out a bit higher than I intended as I said, "You just—"

"Startled you. Yes, I can see that. My apologies."

I stepped away from him and he let his hand drop back to his side. "I saw you leave the ballroom and I thought I would make sure you were alright."

I glanced back towards the crowded dance floor. Yes, of course he would've seen. Everyone had. I forced a smile. "I'm fine. Thank you for your concern."

He examined me, those green eyes raking over my face as he said, "You seemed...in distress. Cohen made to go after you but he was detained. He's quite popular tonight. Everyone wants a dance with the prince, especially now that he is eligible." He smiled slightly, just the smallest quirk of his lips. "I told him I would check on you for him."

"How kind of you," I said blandly.

He nodded towards the garden path ahead of us. "Shall we walk?"

I started to tell him no, but he'd already headed off. I sent one more glance in the direction of the ballroom before I fell into step next to him. Darragh was quiet for a long moment, his gaze on the massive trees and winter blooming plants around us. It was a beautiful night, with a full moon and a sea of glittering stars above us. But it was cold and the layers of my black dress did little to stop the chill.

I hated being cold.

Recently, it had seemed like I was cold all the time.

Of course, it had little to do with the weather, although it had snowed last week. The heaviest drifts of it had since melted and it seemed the worst of winter might actually be behind us. Gazda would welcome spring soon, but my hometown of Varos would probably stay covered in snow for a few more weeks, if not months. Varos was on the other side of the Demarti Mountains from Vayelle and tended to be colder than the cities farther south. We called the worst of winter the stretch, since it seemed to go on and on forever.

In Varos, old people would brag about the amount of stretches they'd survived. It was a badge of honor to make it through. Especially right now, when Erydia was coming off a recent military draft. Women weren't legally allowed to be in the military and they also weren't permitted to hunt. If you didn't have a good store of food or a young son who could hunt for you, you'd starve.

My mother had seemed like she was okay the last time I'd see her, but the thought of her alone on our homestead had my pulse quickening. She cared too much for people and I knew she'd put herself at risk to make sure others had enough. It wasn't unlike my mama to give her food to those who were less fortunate. And in a normal year, when Ambrose and Kace were there to hunt and I could help her cook, that might have been permisable. But not now. Not when she was alone.

I was thinking about this when Darragh said, "Isla tells me you would make a good queen."

I laughed in surprise, a bitter sort of sound. "Maybe. But the arena will decide that."

He ran a hand over his shaved head and said, "It may not be a popular opinion in your country, but I would say that an arena is not the best place for choosing who is capable of leading."

"I'd have to agree with you."

"And what does the king say?"

I glanced over at him. "What do you mean?"

"Your new king. He is in favor of the Culling, yes?" When I said nothing, Darragh continued, "He would have you fight for the throne?"

"Kai—the king doesn't really have a choice. It's the law."

"But the king can change the law, can he not?"

I sighed. "I think it might be a little more complicated than that."

He tilted his head to one side as he considered. "Ah, yes. Perhaps that's true."

I wondered if Isla had asked him about helping the other goddess-touched girls to escape. His line of questioning seemed to imply that he believed I would end up in the arena—but it didn't necessarily mean that he wasn't going to help. After all, I hadn't asked Isla to save me. I'd asked her to help my friends.

Rallying my courage, I opened my mouth to ask him if he'd spoken to his sister, but I was cut off by someone else calling his name. Darragh turned to see a guard heading his way. He smiled and separated from me to meet the man a few feet away. They spoke in Pellarsh, their voices light and conversational. After a minute, Darragh clapped the man on the shoulder and nodded to him in farewell.

When the prince came back to me, his expression was apologetic. "I think I should return to the ballroom now. My sister can get herself into trouble if she is left to her own whims."

I smiled, thinking of Isla and her cigarettes. Her makeshift ashtray was still in my bedroom. I'd tried to rinse it off, but it still smelled slightly of tobacco and clove.

Darragh offered me his arm. "Allow me to escort you back?"

***

Darragh hadn't been lying, Cohen really was surrounded by girls. His cheeks were flushed, his speech animated, and I wondered if he'd found his fourth glass of wine yet. As we approached, he grinned at me. "Ah, there she is, the woman of the hour!"

I let go of Darragh and went to stand by the prince. Without hesitation, Cohen looped an arm around my shoulder and said, "I was just thinking about you." His words weren't necessarily slurred, but his smile was too wide and boyish to be anything less than tipsy. Dirty blonde hair fell across his forehead in waves and he'd already undone the top two buttons of his shirt and lost his tie somewhere.

I smiled back at him, relieved that Kai and Caine were nowhere nearby. "Oh? Me? Why?"

Cohen nodded and leaned down, keeping his voice low so only I would hear. "I thought we had over a week until the trials started, but you went ahead and started a fight on the dance floor—how exciting."

I shrugged out from under his arm and shook my head. "I didn't start a fight."

He tsked, his attention drifting to a passing tray of drinks. When the footman didn't slow his step or offer us anything, he frowned. "Still," Cohen said, "you're out here breaking hearts. And publicly at that. Wow." He sighed and shook his head. "I wish I could say I didn't know how the guy feels, but unfortunately I do."

I rolled my eyes.

Before I could smart off, Darragh stepped up and handed me a glass of something. There was humor lacing his words as he said, "You looked as if you needed a drink." Cohen's brows rose and he opened his mouth to speak, but Darragh cut him off. "You, my friend, do not need another drink."

I thanked Darragh and took a sip. It wasn't wine, instead it was a pink color. It was something fruitier and tasted more of sugar than alcohol. While it still wasn't my favorite, I could tolerate it. I took a few more sips and then abandoned the glass on a nearby windowsill.

Realizing that I had overshadowed them, the girls surrounding Cohen had begun to disperse. He seemed to relax further once they'd gone. "Are you going to dance?" I asked him.

He grinned wickedly, all charm. "Are you asking me to dance, Monroe?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm not. But maybe you should go find someone to dance with."

His brows rose. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"So you can pretend to be a good prince?" I offered.

Cohen feigned offense. "I'll have you know that I am a good prince. No thanks to you, since you've done nothing but try to dethrone me since I met you."

"You're a glass away from drunk," I said.

He shrugged. "Drunk princes are good princes too. Don't discriminate."

Darragh shook his head and leaned closer to me so he could be heard over the music. "Will you dance with me?"

I looked to the dance floor. Kinsley was dancing with her father, but I didn't recognize anyone else. Kai was on the throne now, his head propped in his hand, Caine standing by his side. I wondered if they'd already discussed what had happened. What would Caine do about it?

Kai was spiraling.

Down.

Down.

Down.

And I worried that when he finally crashed—I'd be the one to feel the impact of it.

Darragh saw me looking towards the throne. "If you would rather not—"

I turned to him. "No." The word came out sharper than I'd intended and I smiled, hoping to soften it. "No. I'd love too."

With that, the prince of Pellarmus gave Cohen's shoulder a light shove before he offered me his arm. I refused to look at the throne as Darragh pulled me onto the floor. He was a good dancer, his motions practiced and easy. He led me through the steps of a dance a bit more complicated than the waltz Kai and I had done earlier. This one was faster, more spinning and moving. I found myself smiling and laughing as he twirled me away and then pulled me back.

It wasn't romantic and I knew, from the expression on Darragh's face, that he wasn't trying to make a move on me. I think maybe he'd just seen my discomfort and wanted to make my night a little better. And as we spun and the music grew around us, I found that it was better. I let myself forget about my problems and just be for a moment.

Just one dance.

At some point, that one dance became a second and then a third. By the fourth, the tempo had slowed and we were swaying more than anything else. My feet ached and I was leaning heavily on the prince for support.

We'd hardly talked and I was grateful. Darragh didn't seem to be the sort who liked conversation. Like Isla, he only said things when he had something worth saying. It was refreshing, especially in a court full of dignitaries that believed strongly in painful small talk.

I scanned the room for my friends.

Cohen had found Nadia and they were dancing together in a corner of the ballroom. He was smiling and she was laughing. They were both flushed and I wondered if he'd kiss her tonight. If anyone deserved to be kissed by a prince, it was probably Nadia.

She was and had always been the best of us.

I didn't know where Heidi was, but I hoped her evening was going better than mine had. I hoped, at the very least, that her evening was going as well as mine was just then. She might have been angry, but I wasn't. Not really. I was mostly just sad and scared.

And I wanted her to be safe.

As the fifth song began, I realized that I was gripping the front of Darragh's suit and leaning against him, almost putting all of my weight on him. I tried to straighten, but I found that I was unstable on my feet. As I stepped back, the world spun and I had to blink rapidly to see through the sudden sea of stars coating my vision. Darragh kept a steadying hand on my elbow as I shook my head, trying and failing to gain some semblance of focus.

"What is it?" he asked, his accented voice stiff with concern.

My vision cleared slowly and I tried to move away from the dance floor again—I wanted to sit down, goddess, my feet hurt—but I swayed dangerously and almost careened into a nearby couple. They gasped and moved away from me. Darragh caught my arm and pulled me back to him. I heard him apologize to the couple, but I couldn't seem to grasp why. What had I done?

Everything was fine.

The music was beautiful and he was handsome. Those green eyes were so pretty. Like emeralds. Like the sort of jewels you'd imagine finding in a hidden treasure chest.

His eyes reminded me of the eyes of someone else. But those eyes were golden brown, not green.

A pang of worry spiked in me and I turned to look for him—but there were people blocking my view of the throne. Had he seen? Had the king seen me dancing with Darragh? Would he be mad? Did I care if he was?

No.

Yes.

I didn't know.

Again, I tried to step away from the prince, but my eyes swam. My vision flickered to blackness and then back to full light. I blinked, trying to clear it away, but realized very quickly that it wasn't me—the electric lights really were flickering. I pulled away from Darragh and turned. When I looked up, the chandeliers were dimming and then falling to full dark—all of them going out one by one.

Around us, people began to murmur in annoyance and dismay, thinking the party had been ruined. The orchestra ceased it's playing, the scrape of violins almost drowned out by the sound of annoyed whispering.

As the final light died out and we were cast into complete darkness, someone took hold of my wrist—Darragh, I think. My eyes adjusted slowly to the moonlight streaming in through the massive windows. The watery light silhouetted Caine as he stood the dais next to the throne. Guards were gathering. People were beginning to raise their voices in annoyance.

Then a gunshot echoed through the room.

The screaming started.

For a moment, I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. People were shouting and running and I was being pushed from side to side, tossed around in the dark. Still, a steady hand kept hold of me, keeping me standing.

I tried to think past the fog of my mind—tried to get a hold on what was happening. It started slow, my realization—the fear. Then, ice-cold panic hit me full force and I was transported back to the nigh of Sauenmyde. When the Culled had fired on Uri.

But it was no longer Uri on that throne.

Kai's name came from my lips in a scream so shrill, I hardly recognized my own voice. My cry was swallowed whole by the chaos of the room. It was dark, it was nearly impossible to see anything, but that didn't stop Darragh from moving us. I swayed on my feet, still unsteady. The lights of the ballroom flickered back on just long enough for me to see the commotion around me.

People were screaming and trying to run for the nearest exit—out into the garden. But the doors weren't very large and the swarm of people had bottle-necked at the entrance. A glass shattered as someone threw a chair at one of the massive windows. Another gunshot fired as people scurried over broken glass and overturned tables.

I spun and found Darragh searching the room, those green eyes wide. When he didn't see what he was looking for, he started pulling me towards the back of the room—towards the massive oak doors that led deeper into the palace. I stumbled, tripping over my dress, but his pace only picked up until we were running.

This exit was less crowded since it was farther away than the garden doors. Fewer people were trying to get by and it was easier for us to slip out and into the hall. I followed Darragh, letting him direct me. All the while, I kept thinking that I should go back. I should fight the prince's grip and go back. Kai was in there. Kai could be dead. Or dying.

I needed to go back for him.

But my legs were weak and I couldn't seem to get my body to listen. It was as if my brain were disconnected from the rest of me. Each step grew less steady and by the time we'd reached one of the servant staircases, I was almost unable to walk. I made it down one landing before I finally yanked away from Darragh and slumped against the wall, holding onto the railing as if it were my lifeline.

The prince was a watery figure in front of me. He had no features, just a shape. Brown skin, dark hair, bright piercing eyes. No matter how much I blinked or shook my head, I couldn't get my vision to clear. I couldn't make myself speak.

This was wrong.

All of it was wrong.

He reached for me and I shook my head again. "No."

Darragh didn't listen to me, he only grabbed my wrist and tried to pull me further down the stairs. I managed to twist out of his grasp again, but the motion was enough to send my stomach rolling. I pressed the back of my hand to my lips and fought against the urge to vomit.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.

He spoke to me; said something my ears wouldn't make into words. I tried to turn back, to move back up the stairs, but my legs wouldn't move. I couldn't even lift my feet. I shook my head, trying to ward off his hands as he reached for me again.

Kai could be dead.

I took one step and my knees gave way. My dress billowed out around me, a sea of dark fabric, and I almost hit the floor before I felt Darragh catch me around the waist. He hauled me back against him. As he pulled me into a stand again, I felt his head jerk up. I heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs above us.

I think he cursed.

I don't know.

Because just then, my eyes shut and I fell into oblivion.

***

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