ring I’d cherished, the ring I’d derived so much comfort from, had first belonged to the phantom I hated. Not to the original Leonora—me—but the phantom Leonora. Craven had given it to her; and she hadn’t even been his fated.
Leonora might not have been what he’d needed, but he’d liked something about her. She’d been something he’d wanted. Excitement, perhaps. A challenge. Things I might not have been in the beginning.
I might not have been enough back then.
I might not be enough now. Was that why fate seemed to want Saxon and Dior together?
Growing queasy, I pressed a hand against my belly. Would I ever be enough for anyone?
I should fling the ring in the trash and never look back.
My eyes burned, a lone tear sliding down my cheek.
Shadows of guilt and shame whisked through Saxon’s irises. “Why has this information upset you?”
I didn’t know how to respond to that. “It’s been a trying day,” I said, and left it at that.
We reached the dining hall, a spacious room with ivory pillars, marble floors, and mirrored walls. A long table occupied the center, displaying a wealth of fine china. Noel and Ophelia were already seated in the center on the left. The oracle grinned and waved, while the witch saluted us with an open bottle of wine. They must have been there awhile because the bottle was half-empty.
My father claimed his seat at the head of the table and frowned. “Must you behave so crassly, witch?”
“Yes, Majesty, I must.” Ophelia took a swig straight from the bottle.
Name cards rested on each plate. Dior and I were to sit at the king’s right and left, respectively, with Saxon beside my stepsister and Milo beside me.
Eat, next to the warlock? Make conversation with him? My queasiness intensified, what little bravado I’d managed to spackle onto my expression thinning.
Queen Raven was to have the seat at Saxon’s other side, followed by his elder sister, Tempest, and one of the combatants. Beside Milo was another combatant, with the final six at the foot of the table.
Saxon pulled out my chair, and I eased down, unsure if my breath hitched due to his incredible intensity or my incredible weakness for him.
With a smooth push, he edged me forward, then leaned down to grip the chair arms, his lips hovering near my ear. For me alone, he whispered, “Just know, Asha. Every time our eyes meet, I’m thinking about kissing you.”
Breath escaped me, heat sizzling under the surface of my skin. He flirts with me so blatantly? Here? Now? “How can you know for certain that’s where your thoughts will be?”
“My thoughts are always centered around kissing you.” He straightened and walked away then, leaving me reeling.
Milo helped Dior into the chair across from me and strode around the table. As he and Saxon passed each other, the rest of the assembly went quiet, tension thickening the air. But neither boy threw a punch and everyone claimed their seats.
My father clinked a knife against a glass, signaling the servants. “We are having dishes from all of Enchantia. Delicacies from each of the kingdoms, sure to delight. Eat, eat.”
Bowls of soup were passed out, different conversations blending together. I stole a glance at Saxon, curious where he’d directed his attention—our gazes met. I shifted in my chair as he slowly lifted his wineglass, took a sip, then licked his lips. Because he was imagining kissing me. Right. This. Second.
I wouldn’t moan. I wouldn’t crawl atop the table and claim that imaginary kiss for real, if only to subvert reality for a little while.
The amazing scent of crab, butter, and cream saturated the air. My stomach rumbled, and my mouth watered. I’d returned to the stable today and played with the dragons, so I hadn’t had a chance to eat.
As I ate, I had to forcibly keep my eyes away from Saxon.
—Look at Saxon... Look.—
Leonora whispered temptation in the back of my mind.
I strengthened my resolve to never, ever give the phantom what she wanted. I can’t wait to kill you, Leonora.
She laughed softly, as if she knew a secret I did not.
I focused on Dior before the top of my head blew off. The poor princess. She did her best to engage Saxon in conversation. Even though I refused to let my attention veer to him, I witnessed him bark his responses at her from the corner of my eye. Eventually she bowed her head and focused on her food, exuding misery.
She’d taken more than one blow