Page 53 of Escape from the Green

We were surrounded by darkness for a long moment, a blanket of black that let my panic be hidden, let my trembling be my secret alone.

But there was the scratching sound of skin running across the wall, a flick, and the room bathed in light, piercing to my eyes, making them squint for a long moment, unseeing.

But as soon as they adjusted, I saw him.

The future Unseelie King.

My betrothed.

Jet.

I hadn't seen him up close.

My parents, technically Light, had no reason to be seen associating in the Dark Court, let alone cozying up with the King and Prince. Whatever their dealings, they had done them undercover.

I had seen a slight glimpse of him as he climbed out of the carriage pulled by centaurs and satyrs, but had only made out his pale skin and dark hair.

Up close, he was lovely to look at.

The kind of handsome that most young women would count themselves lucky to be betrothed to, even if it was against their will.

At least he was young and handsome.

You could have just as easily been traded like chattel to someone old and wrinkled, skin thin, hair gray or nonexistent, that perpetual scent of decay clinging to their skin.

I guess I was lucky that my mother chose Jet.

Then again, even if he was old and decrepit, if he was the next in line to the throne, she wouldn't have cared about my disgust.

It was really just happenstance that he was lovely.

Tall, lithe, with the aforementioned strong jaw, severe brows, straight nose, and almost haunting honey-brown eyes.

I had seen those eyes before.

They had stared at me across a table for tea at my parents' compound.

Cece.

His half-sister.

"You're hurting me," I told him, proud when my voice didn't shake even if my body was trembling slightly.

His brows drew low, looking down at his hand, making mine do the same, both of us watching as his fingers lessened their grip before finally releasing me entirely. Long blue marks marred the flesh already, likely to darken as the night went on.

He didn't apologize.

I wondered if he even knew the definition of the word.

"Why are we hiding in a broom closet instead of being escorted back to the Dark Court?" I asked, lifting my chin, refusing to cower even if my body was still betraying the depth of my fear of my possible fate.

To that, he snorted. "I am a lot of things, Amethyst," he told me, rocking back on his heels. "But I am not stupid. Nor am I desperate. You don't want me. I have no use of some starry-eyed virgin who wants cuddles and happily-ever-afters," he told me, lip curling at the very idea of being stuck with me. And, as ridiculous as it was since I had no interest in him at all, my ego took a small hit at that. "You're good-looking enough, but I can't have a woman moon-eyeing me. I have important shit to do."

"Wow. You're so charming," I drawled, shaking my head, thankful that he didn't want me, that I wouldn't spend my life shacked up with some, well, asshole.

"We're both dodging a bullet by hiding in a broom closet," he told me, voice final.

But there were too many questions left unanswered to stay silent, to accept what he had given me as the whole truth.