“Perfectly adequate is the dream, I guess.”
Lysander frowned. “I’m much better without a chatty princess distracting me from the steps.”
“I’ve heard that men aren’t very good at performing several tasks at the same time, but I never really understood the statement until now.”
He sighed, wings dropping from their tense position high above his back and fanning out to surround them in a black curtain—a brief reprieve from prying eyes. Not at all proper, but Lyana didn’t care.
Her prince leaned in. “You want to talk?”
She nodded firmly.
“Then tell me why you lied.”
“Because I wanted to surprise you.”
His mouth opened, as if he hadn’t expected such a simple answer. Or the truth. He sounded flabbergasted as he asked, “Why?”
Lyana spread her own wings, the tips of their feathers barely grazing as she completed the circle. The touch was somehow far more intimate than the joining of their palms. A shiver crept down her spine, but she told herself it was the cold air brushing against her exposed back, no longer covered by her wings. “Because I thought it would be fun.”
“Fun?” he asked, amazed.
Her brows drew together and her heart contracted, a gentle ache spreading as her voice turned vulnerable in a way it hadn’t been with him before, not really. “Call me crazy, but I thought maybe you’d be excited, like I was, when you discovered there’d be a princess at the trials who already knew your deepest secret, a person from whom you didn’t have to hide. Call me crazy, but I thought you’d be relieved, just like I was when I saw that ring hanging from your neck and I realized who you were.”
His face softened, as did his grip on her back. He closed his eyes for a long moment, taking a deep breath, releasing it slowly.
“Ana…” he whispered, shaking his head.
Coming from him, the sound of her name brought goose bumps to her skin, but his tone made her stomach drop. It was edged with a silent apology, strained and uncertain, the slightest bit pained. She decided she didn’t want to hear what came next, because she knew it would be bad, knew it would mess up all the plans that had been running through her mind nonstop ever since she’d stuck him in that cave. He was going to say he didn’t want her.
Yet he did.
She could see it in his eyes, feel it in his touch.
Whatever was holding him back, he’d get over it. She’d convince him to get over it. He was the only prince in the room who knew her secret, knew about her magic, and didn’t care. And that was worth more to her than anything.
“Don’t,” she said, but she didn’t need to.
The music had come to an abrupt stop. Lyana whipped back her wings, exposing them to the room, realizing they’d already stopped dancing a few seconds before the music had ended. People were staring. Lyana glanced around, pointedly ignoring her father's confused look, her mother's suspicious eyes, and her brother's overbearing gaze. Luckily Cassi wasn’t there, because if she were, Lyana would have had to ignore her knowing expression as well.
She tried to step back, but the raven prince held her firmly. He paused with his mouth hardly an inch from her ear, the edges of their masks touching. His breath was warm as it brushed over her neck, making her skin tingle with awareness of him.
“I’m not who you think I am,” he confessed softly.
Then he retreated, bowing deeply, sweeping his wings into an arch above his back. For a moment, she thought she’d imagined the words. But his eyes still burned beneath his hooded brows, full of an unspoken meaning she hadn’t yet grasped. The raven prince shifted his hold so he could brush his lips against her fingers, pressing the customary kiss on her skin.
He turned, leaving Lyana rooted to her spot as she watched him go—the outline of his lips seared into her hand like a brand, a mark she didn’t want to erase.
What did he mean?
What was he trying to say?
What did he want?
Most of all, did it matter? Because Lyana knew what she wanted—the freedom to be honest with the person who would share the rest of her life. Happiness and hardship would come and go, she was sure, but the chance to be sincere? To live authentically with her mate?
This was it—her one shot.
And she wouldn’t go down without a fight.
23
Cassi
Sleep was overrated.
At least, that’s what Cassi told herself as she followed the