The Glass Queen (The Forest of Good and Evil #2) - Gena Showalter Page 0,58

doubt, though?

I could maybe afford to pay a witch or an oracle to divine the truth, if I sold my mother’s ring. At the thought, I recoiled. Part with the only thing of hers I owned? Not going to happen. But, again, if I had killed the woman I’d loved above all others, I wasn’t worthy to keep the ring.

Peering at my wringing fingers, I asked, “What did I say during our bath-time conversation?”

Saxon’s breath quickened. “You begged me to look my fill and join you in the water.”

“I did?” I squeaked. Had he memorized my naked body? Could he picture what I looked like naked right this second? “And did you comply?”

“I did not.”

Wait. “So you didn’t look at all?”

“I didn’t say that.”

But he had said...what? That he hadn’t looked his fill?

Oh. Oh, my.

He stood and stalked to the trunk, where he sat and focused on cleaning and polishing the weapons he’d dropped earlier, dismissing me.

Or maybe he just hoped to dismiss me? He remained as stiff as a board, as if his thoughts remained with me.

I watched as a blue feather danced its way to the ground, my mind whirling. These little tells of his...could he be as aware of me as I was of him? Did I want him to be?

“Do you have any chores for me to complete before the victory celebration?” For the first time, I would get to attend a party, just like any other girl. Just like any normal, healthy person. That was cause for another celebration. “And don’t even think about leaving me behind. I am your palace liaison. That means I...liaison for you at parties. It’s an official duty.”

“No,” he groused, like I’d purposely woken him from a nap. “No chores.”

I tidied the tent anyway, just in case. Saxon’s soiled garments were stuffed into Eve’s basket, alongside the remains of our meal, and given to the avian outside. I worked at a snail’s pace, careful not to dirty myself. I’d never worn so fine a gown, and I would protect it at all cost. And okay, yes. I secretly snagged the feather while I worked, hiding it in my bodice. Payment for a job well done.

When evening arrived, darkness fell over the land and sunshine dawned in my heart, anticipation making me weak in the knees. Laughter drifted into the tent, soon growing louder and more prevalent, bringing with it the scent of roasting meat.

The party had officially started.

In a matter of minutes, I could be out there, living life and having fun. How to prod Saxon to hurry without seeming to prod Saxon?

“I bet your men are wondering why their future king hasn’t arrived,” I said, keeping my tone observational.

“You’re right.” He donned the royal avian sash, crossing the cerulean rope over his wide chest. After cinching a leather belt around his waist and anchoring the brass knuckle daggers to his sides, he thrust his feet into clean boots.

In my dream, Leonora hadn’t considered him traditionally handsome, but I did. I considered him the standard by which other males should be compared. Minus his thirst for revenge, of course. Tonight, this avian prince would be greatly desired. Everyone would wish to dance with him.

If he were the fairy-tale prince, he might even find his Cinder.

My heart leaped. What would that mean for me?

When he approached the tent flap, ready to go, I rushed to his side. He paused to give me a scathing look.

“You,” he grated, “will be staying in the tent.”

I was pretty sure I would feel the burn of that look forever. His voice was just as hot, singeing my ears. Before I erupted, I would try to reason with him. Using my calmest voice possible—unfortunately, that was a screech—I told him, “You have no justifiable right to keep me from the party. I completed all my chores. You said so yourself. I even went above and beyond to charm you with my winning personality.”

He raised his chin. “Nevertheless. You attended the tournament without permission, so, you’ll stay here this evening. Official duty or not. Don’t bother trying to sneak out. I had Ophelia cast a border spell around the tent. No longer can you leave without my express permission.”

“How can you do this?” More important, why was I still drawn to him? Why were his eyes haunted, despite his disdain? Voice wobbling, I told him, “I’ve never attended a party before, Saxon.”

“Next time obey my commands,” he snapped before stomping out.

I stood there, in shock, as he