“Twenty-five minutes,” I hear him mutedly finish from inside the Great Hall.
The cold wind pulls at my dark hair. My back settles against the metal, and I take a long calming breath.
I have to make it twenty-five minutes.
I can do this.
The rain has long stopped, but the smell of it lingers in the crisp wind. It’s an intoxicating scent that lifts my gaze to the night sky above the rooftop. Only to find someone else is already enjoying tonight’s weather.
“Synder,” I whisper. “How do you always find me?”
He sits at a golden bistro sort of chair, his pale hair blowing in the breeze. He’s leaned back lazily in the seat, his arm extended to the small circular table in front of him.
It’s a table for two beneath the glinting stars. A wall of golden latus is just to his right. Deep red roses limb the wooden planks. He looks like a book boyfriend come to life. It’s an image of romance that most people can only dream of seeing.
A slim-cut black tuxedo hugs his body in such a way that it should be illegal to look that damn sinful. He turns fully to me, his black shirt and silk black tie blending nicely together to give him a dark allure. Everything from his shining shoes to the small cufflinks at his wrists is stark ebony... except for the jade-green pocket square that only shows a fraction of an inch over his heart.
It identically matches the same fine material of my dress.
“You get sick of the noblemen too?” His smile is tilted. A little tainted.
The High Fae are cruel to him. And so are the high nobles of this kingdom. It truly is a tragic realm of misfits.
“Just waiting,” I say instead of the truth. The truth is: I only made it three minutes before being seen.
And I don’t want to tell Synder that.
“Whatever shall we do to pass the time?”
His long fingers strum against the shining gold tabletop. The gleam in his starry eyes tells me he isn’t joking. But I’m still not sure if I should make one last mistake before I leave this cursed kingdom.
Every man I’ve ever dated in my life has been a mistake.
Would Synder Steel be one more name on that list?
With a quiet clicking of my heels, I cross the short span of space and stop in front of this beautiful man to consider it all. Every cruel word we’ve said to each other circles my mind, and still, I can’t say that anything we’ve been through has been a mistake. This dress, the stars, his smile, none of this feels like mistake.
It feels like magic.
This time, I’m in control.
“Stand up.” My lips purse as I wait for him to follow my command.
His brows lift, a smile toying against his sexy-as-sin lips.
He obeys, standing ever so slowly until he’s breathing down on me without touching me. Star-filled eyes shift between mine. My heart pounds. This is what it feels like to have power.
“I want to see you.” My chin lifts and though I don’t say it, he knows what I want.
And with a swirl of glittering magic crossing over his features, the golden boy image washes away. His hair lightens. The golden blonde color fades right out into a crisp white. His cosmos eyes remain but the sharp angles of his face are crueler, more jagged than the perfect appearance he shows everyone else.
“A phuca,” I whisper as I see him in his unfiltered light of cruelty.
The pretty boy image is like a snake’s pattern: meant to lure people in. The real Synder that lies beneath his veil of magic, it’s fitting. It’s a hard and jaded look that I feel like I’ve known even before he revealed it.
“I can be whoever I want to be.”
“Except you don’t choose to be you.” My words sting my heart and it only hurts more when he looks away from that honesty.