Page 90 of Never Ever After

“I didn’t see you wear this before. It’s an unusual cut of the stone. Is it a gift?” His tone thickens with suspicion.

My fingers curl, concealing the marks on my palm. “I bought it from the market in the Amber Forest.”

He releases my hand. “You don’t need to buy anything. Tell me what you wish, and it’s yours. There is nothing I cannot give you—if you would let me.”

He’s not talking about the amethyst ring anymore. An idea flickers in the haze of my mind. “Your Highness knows what I want.”

“Your old ring? The wooden one?” He’s watching me carefully. “We have far better jewels in the treasury.”

“Its worth can’t be weighed that way.” I move to sit by the table. “My ring was given to me by someone close—”

“A lover?” he interjects cuttingly.

My laughter is unplanned, and just right, as his tension vanishes. “From family. From someone I’ve lost.” I press on. “Will Your Highness return it to me?”

He lifts a bent finger to his mouth like he’s considering it. My heart is beating too fast, my hands damp as I wait, afraid to say the wrong thing. It’s becoming harder to breathe, like the moment I’m about to steal something—the anticipation of the prize knotted with the fear of getting caught.

“If I return your ring, will you relinquish all claim over Duke Yuan’s starfire? Will you stay?” he asks.

Of course he would demand this. “What about Thorn Valley?” My voice wavers like I’m nervous. “Won’t they be furious if they don’t receive the starfire?”

“I will arrange matters with Duke Yuan. Once Lord Chao weds my sister, they won’t complain.” When I remain silent, he probes, “Do you agree?”

This isn’t a command. He’s waiting, unsure of my answer. Excitement flares but I suppress it, afraid of appearing too eager. “Yes,” I lie, “this is all I need—all I want.”

“Once you are mine,” he says quietly, “I will give you the world—not just a ring of wood.”

The gravity of his words startles me. As he unclasps an iron chain from his neck, he pulls it from his robe. Something dangles from it, a worn wooden band carved with a six-petaled flower.

My ring.

He slides it off the chain then takes my hand, placing the ring over the tip of my finger. “A mark of our pledge, of my trust.”

My insides recoil, alarm pulsing through me. Right now, my ring looks drab in his hand, nothing of note—but if I wear it, it will transform. No lies will save me then. With a smile, I pluck my ring from him. “Could I have the chain as well, Your Highness? I want to wear it just as you did.”

He returns my smile as he holds out the chain, waiting till I slip the ring back onto it, then he clasps it around my neck. My skin prickles from the cold metal as I look at myself in the mirror. Devoid of my magic, the brightness of the iron remains undiminished—yet I can’t wait to rip it off. As we stare at our reflection, the prince’s hands fall to my shoulders in a possessive hold… like he’s claiming me.

Despite my unease, relief crashes through me—the lightness of joy. I have my ring; I’m not going to die.

“You’re happy,” he observes.

“Beyond words.” The first honest thing I’ve told him tonight.

“I will make you happy for all your days.”

The way he’s looking at me—a tightness coils within. The false promises I made to him are despicable, dangerous, yet I’ll be far away when he comes to collect. I just have to secure the dragon first.

I wrap my arms over myself. “Your Highness, it’s growing cold. May I borrow a cloak?”

As he walks toward the wooden rack, I flick apart Dian’s amethyst ring to scatter the powder over the incense burner. The fragrance in the room shifts subtly, infused with a frail sweetness. As I quickly sit back down by the table, he returns, wrapping a thick brocade cloak around me. It smells of sandalwood and spice, of him.

I pour out a cup of tea and offer it to him as a distraction. “Your Highness should drink this while it’s warm.”

As he takes it, I resist the urge to glance at the brazier, toward the perfumed smoke winding from it. Prince Zixin blinks slowly like his eyes are growing heavy, like he’s struggling to see. I lapse into silence, waiting for the incense to work. It only takes a few moments more for his body to slump, his head falling upon his palm.

I rise and bow to him. “Your Highness, it’s late and you’re tired. I will retire to my room.”

I speak clearly, to imprint this in his consciousness. He nods groggily as he rises, staggering to his bed. At once, I move to the door—but don’t open it, wary of the guards outside. Instead, I slip into a corner of the room, folding myself into the shadows, my body tense until all falls quiet.