House of Dragons (Royal Houses #1) - K.A. Linde Page 0,36

had been in a house fire, growing up, and a portion of his face had been devoured by the flames. A healer might have been able to save his appearance, but his rural village had been too far from the healing centers.

“How can I help you?” she asked carefully. She liked Bastian, but he’d never really taken much interest in her.

“I came to offer my condolences on what had happened earlier.”

Kerrigan’s face flushed a bright red. “Ah… yes. That was…”

“Unfortunate,” he said. “I am sorry for your troubles.”

Not enough to fix them.

Though she would never say that out loud. Bastian was being kind. No one else had been kind.

“Thank you, Master Bastian.” She demurely lowered her lashes. “I appreciate you coming to speak with me.”

“Please, let me know if there is anything that I can do.”

She nodded and suddenly wondered if there was something that he could do. Not here or right now. But later, when she put a plan together. Perhaps Bastian’s kindness could be beneficial. She would put him in her back pocket like a card in Dragons Up.

Bastian tipped his head at her and then disappeared back into the crowd.

Kerrigan had had enough of the party. She dropped her drink off on a nearby table and then stepped lightly onto the balcony. The summer heat had dipped uncharacteristically cold while still hanging on to every ounce of humidity. It wasn’t a good combination. But it did mean that the balcony was unattended. Or so she had thought.

Her feet stilled when she found Fordham Ollivier leaning his elbows against the railing and staring wistfully out into the city beyond.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

He slowly turned his head and assessed. She suddenly felt on display as his gaze dragged up her body and then to her face. There was something in his gray eyes as he drank in her features. A half-smile twisted on his mouth.

“Hello, halfling.”

She glowered at the word. She should just leave him here to rot. And yet… and yet…

He looked so miserable. As miserable as she was. It didn’t make sense to feel kinship to this princeling. He was an arrogant bastard who likely tortured other people like her.

“Not having fun at your own party?” she asked.

“It’s not truly for me. It’s for the others.”

That was true. Also how she felt.

She leaned next to him. “Did you expect them to cheer you on?”

“No,” he said, fastidiously messing with the collar of his black-and-silver cloak. It was elegant and endearing. He looked like royalty, even with his hair all mussed from fussing with it. No one could ever see him as anything else. “And you? What are you doing out here? Making mischief? Here to follow me around like a gnat.”

“Are you always like this?”

“Like how?”

“An asshole?”

His eyes narrowed. “If you must know, yes. It’s my best quality.”

She snorted. “Great. And here I thought I’d escape your winning personality after all this was over.” She sighed and leaned heavily forward again. Letting her guard down in front of him was likely dangerous, but she had so little left to lose. “But it’s not over. No one picked me, and now, I might have to follow around your annoying ass forever.”

“Is that why you are out here?” he inquired. “Did you truly think that a half-Fae would fit with all of that?” He gestured to the grand party inside where all the wealthy Fae danced and drank and laughed.

He said it with venom, but she heard the truth of it. Would she ever fit? Had it all been a lie these last twelve years?

“Escape,” she whispered. She probably shouldn’t have, but the word had just slipped out. “I’m out here to escape.”

The inquisitive gleam of his gray eyes in the firelight was almost silver.

But she ignored that questioning look and headed toward the side stairs that led down into the garden below. There was a hidden exit through a rusted iron gate. Whoever had thought to put in iron was clearly insane. Not that iron hurt Fae. Not exactly. But it was anathema to them. Which was why that exit was rusted and never used. She was surprised that no one had ever commanded it all be replaced.

“Wait,” Fordham commanded.

Kerrigan sighed. “What? Are you going to tell me not to go? I thought you’d be pleased that this little half-breed was finally leaving the party.”

He arched an eyebrow, and then, untied the cloak at his neck. He slung it off his shoulders and held it