Only now that mouth is mangled in a smirk.
Why won’t he look at me? And why can’t I feel the bond between us?
“Prince,” Inara calls affectionately. “It’s time to crown your queen.”
My heart flutters as he walks this way. He takes the crown from Inara inside his strong, capable hands. Hands that have been all over my body.
Then he glances casually down at me, his face dark and unreadable, and offers to help me up. Rings glitter from his outstretched fingers. Rings I’ve never seen him wear before.
My palm is sweaty inside his as I stand. Thank God, he’s going to explain this entire mess. His eyes rake over my dress, the one I wore for him. He smiles. Without warning, he leans forward and kisses me. A deep, probing, claiming kiss.
Except this time, it feels different. Shameful and gross. His teeth scrape mine; his mouth violent and bruising.
The great hall breaks into a cheer.
This is all wrong. I yank my head back, touching my swollen mouth. His lips are twisted into a hateful, cruel sneer.
His eyes gleam with excitement as he settles the crown onto my head. He forces it down hard enough that the edges dig into my forehead.
“Did you really think you could be my queen?” he whispers. “That you were my equal?”
Just like that—my heart shatters into a thousand shards of ice. And I remember Mack’s warning.
The Fae males place bets on you. Whatever you do, don’t fall for one.
“It was all . . . a trick?” I whisper.
“What else could it be? Did you truly think you, a slave-marked human, would stand beside me on my throne? That we could ever be anything but master and slave?”
The total disgust in his voice kills any doubts I had left. A slideshow of all the things we did last night flashes in my memory, just as real as the video Inara just played. The promise he made me becomes a taunting echo inside my head.
I feel sick. Used. An idiot. I remember the feel of his lips as they traced the lines of his brand and I want to cry.
All of this . . . all of it was to break me. What did the prince say the first time I met him? That he would freeze me, chipping away at me until all that remained was my heart. And then he would crush that last piece of me to dust.
I would be broken, erased, and forgotten.
He warned me, but I didn’t listen.
But I’m not completely shattered. I refuse to let him have that satisfaction. I force myself to look into his eyes as I wield the raw, consuming pain eating me alive into armor. He cannot hurt me anymore than he already has.
I am broken. I am heartless. I am untouchable.
My rage fills me until it feels like a real, living, breathing thing between us. And then, almost as if my fury has actually transformed into a monster, a piercing alarm sounds over the loudspeakers.
Three loud, succinct wails.
Darkling.
The dance floor breaks into chaos. Shadow guardians file into the room, headed by Mr. Willis. Part of me wonders where they were when I was up here having my heart publicly crushed for fun. But then again, I guess it’s only Fae they protect; we humans mean nothing to them.
I watch inebriated shadows run to find their keepers, and a dark smile finds my face. That duty no longer applies to me.
As everyone rushes around, trying to figure out the best place to hide, no one notices as I slip away, still wearing my crown.
54
The headmistress doesn’t seem surprised when I walk into her office. I’m still in my dress, the long hem stained from being dragged over the floor after I slipped off my heels. The crown fits tightly to my head. She doesn’t seem surprised by that, either.