Her Cinder Throne (Completed)

Chapter 46

Cole giggled, something she never thought she would ever do. It felt foreign and strange as it bubbled up from her throat, but she was satisfied that the sound was as twinkling and light as she had heard from the other girls in their shared rooms. "What pleasant things would those be, my prince?" She flattened her hand that had been bunched in his shirt, pressing her fingers against the curve of his shoulder blade. She could feel it shifting as they swayed with the music. She tilted her head so that her lips brushed against the edge of his shirt collar, barely coming into contact with the skin around his collar bone.

His grip on her waist tightened in response.

"Your name, for one," he said.

"Lady Myra," she whispered.

He was silent once again, spinning her across the room and weaving through the bodies of other couples on the dance floor. Though they were surrounded by hundreds of people, all Cole could concentrate on was Bastian's hand in hers and the way his breath traced down the curve of her neck.

"Your silence is making me nervous, your highness," she said, archly. "What are you thinking?"

"I don't wish to say. There are some things that can't be said in company like this," he said.

She smiled, her lips tracing the gesture across his skin. "Where should we say them, then?" she asked. "I'm suddenly feeling a bit flushed. I think a bit of fresh air would do me good."

She nodded her chin toward a pair of doors tucked away behind an elegantly draped curtain. They lead out to a small verandah, nestled in an explosion of foliage that just so happened to perfectly block the view from indoors from most angles. It wasn't foolproof, but it would be as good a place as any to murder a prince at his own birthday party.

Bastian kept dancing, seemingly ignoring her for the moment. He tipped his head down and rested his lips against her shoulder, his face turned in towards hers. To everyone else they looked like lovers embracing, twisted in on each other and forgetting everyone else. But on the inside, they were anything but.

"Lady Myra," he said, but his voice was dripping with something deep and sinister. He spat out the words like they were poisoned. "You are not here for any good purpose."

Cole tried not to stiffen in his grasp. "I came to see you. A marriage can still be dreamed of even by those who do not have the armies to tempt your father."

Bastian laughed, but it was hard and short. "I'm getting a little offended that you think I'm this stupid."

Cole sucked in her breath. "I don't know what you mean."

"One call from me and you'll be found out," Bastian whispered. "Baerghast is watching from the pillars just over there. I could wince and he'd be here."

Cole couldn't help but glance over and see Baerghast, shrouded in his cloak like always, slinking around the marble pillars that periodically broke up the sides of the room. She had no idea where his eyes really were trained, but she had no doubt that he would be quick to rescue the prince if he needed to.

"Why would you want your guard to break us up? Are you not pleased with me?" She lacing it with velvety tones and sleepy eyes, but he didn't even look at her.

"I think it's time for you to leave," he said, and his hand left her side. She felt the coolness of the air rush in over her ribs, replacing the warmth of his fingers. He was already starting to raise his arm, a signal to Baerghast that something was amiss. If he finished the movement, and had Cole thrown out or worse, then she would miss her one opportunity to regain her mother and her old life. The deal with Tanwyn depended on her staying with Bastian until the end, and she couldn't let him make her lose that.

Reaching into the front waistband of her dress, she gripped the small knife that Madam had given her. Just touching the handle felt like grabbing hold of an wintery lake, and she quickly withdrew it.

The blade snaked through the tangle of their arms and rested against the fabric of his tunic. It hovered just between two ribs, aimed at his lung, and pressing hard enough that he froze. His eyes swiveled down to look at her face, his expression unreadable.

"Drop your hand. The guard stays where he is," she hissed.

Bastian drew in one long but quiet breath. He stared at her the whole time, his eyes boring into her until she almost looked away. But she couldn't do that. It would be admitting weakness, and she had to be strong. She had to finish this bloody deal and get to the life that had been stolen from her.

"Why don't you end it here and now?" he asked. "Maybe you know that it would be impossible for you to leave after you've stabbed the prince during his own ball?"

Cole scoffed. "I have my ways of escaping," she said, even if she wasn't sure her magic ring would work. "You should be more worried about my blade. It's not any ordinary piece of metal." She lifted onto her toes to come closer to his face. "It's enchanted to find its target perfectly. Once it's in your side, you won't stand a chance."

Bastian's fingers pressed into her back, pulling her close until she could feel his breath on the curve of her neck. He didn't seem to care about her blade pressed to his ribs, ready to plunge deep into his skin.

"Do you trust what that faerie told you?" he whispered, cold and deep. "Are you really willing to kill me?"

She wasn't sure of the answer. She only knew that her life depended on taking his.Yet, her blood ran cold as she realized that he knew who she was and who she was working with. What else he knew, she wasn't sure of, but now everything was in peril of falling apart around her. 

He spun her to the side, heading toward the doors she had wanted to exit through before. Her eyebrows dipped as she tried to figure out what his plan was. Take her to the one place that no one would see her murder him in? How would that make any sense for him. There had to be something else he was planning.

She yanked back, trying to halt his progress. His grip tightened on her waist with more force than she thought he was capable of. Suddenly, he was all muscle, shoving her toward the glass doors. Her dagger slid across his tunic, dangerously close to piercing his side and finding the vital tissue it would need to puncture in order to end his life.

"Stop, you'll get yourself killed," she hissed.

"Isn't that what you want, Lady Myra?" he asked, dropping an pretense of dancing with her and snatching her wrist in an ironclad grasp. He spun away from her, and her blade, and suddenly he was the one leading her, shoving people out of the way as he charged for the double doors.