Press Your Luck

Press Your Luck
Ingrid

I yawn and scrub my hands over my face. Morning sunlight peeks around the edges of the curtains, and Cirocco still hasn’t stopped fucking pacing.

“I talked to him,” he says for what feels like the thousandth time. “And he didn’t say a word.”

“He was protecting you.” I lean back against a pile of cushions and wonder if I can’t sneak in a little nap before breakfast. “From Kaloni, not that he knew it then.”

Cirocco shakes his head.

“What do I have to say to make you believe me?” I ask, also for the thousandth time. I’ve explained everything I know—which was much harder without all my notes, though my best recreation of them litters the table in front of me. I’ve gone through a detailed timeline, explained to him anything he had questions about. And now, I’m just tired.

Finally, he sighs and drops onto the couch at my feet. “Nothing.”

“Glad I wasted this night, then. Enjoy breakfast without me.” I roll over, away from him.

“No, I—” His hand brushes my shoulder like he’s going to stop me but thinks better of it. Smart. “I don’t exactly disbelieve you. It’s just… difficult.”

“Really?” I peer at him from under my arm, watching that thoughtful face. Cirocco doesn’t strike me as a liar, but I have to be sure.

“Really.” He takes a deep breath and nods to himself. “I did talk to him. I wasn’t thinking about it at the time, but that was my brother.” He smiles softly. “Did you know he’s a brilliant musician?”

My mark throbs. “I was the first person he played with.”

“When this is done,” he says, “you’ll play for me.”

“Does that mean you’re in?”

“Someone is attacking my family.” He stands, becoming the Beta I’ve seen in glimpses. “And you have a plan to stop that someone. What else could I be?”



Cirocco and I wander down to breakfast arm-in-arm. It might be part of the plan, but I’m glad to have someone to lean on. The nap I took after my fall yesterday was not enough sleep, and it feels like a particularly angry drummer is nesting in my skull.

“When we enter the hall,” I murmur, “laugh like I’ve just told you the funniest joke.”

“Acting is not my strong suit,” he replies.

How did they survive on the run? “Imagine Joli’s face when she finds out the truth.”

I push open the doors as Cirocco laughs and bat my eyes up at him like Candace would. Well, hopefully like Candace would. Judging by the way his laughter intensifies when he looks at me, I might not be pulling it off.

Every eye in the hall turns toward us. I ignore them, draped over his arm like he’s the only person in the world.

He bends down to whisper in my ear. “How was that?”

I grin and whisper back, “Perfect.”

“You two are so sweet together,” someone I’m sure congratulated us last night says as we pass.

“Thank you.” I bob a tiny curtsy and try not to want to pull her head off.

Cirocco might not be much of an actor, but he doesn’t have a night’s worth of sleepless rage to grapple with.

I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love.

We flounce up to the head table and take seats next to each other. Liwar, Kaloni, and Sibel are already here.

“Not eating with the triplets?” Kaloni asks lightly.

Cirocco glances at me. “Ingrid prefers the food here, and I didn’t want to leave her.”

I pat his knee under the table. Good answer.

She nods and returns to her breakfast.

“So,” Liwar says slowly, “you seem happy this morning.”

“I certainly am.” I beam up at Cirocco.

“We talked all night,” he replies. “And I realized how much we have in common. Perhaps it’s sudden, but I am so glad you arranged this, dear.”

“That’s lovely,” Kaloni says.

I grit my teeth

All right, this isn’t my best plan. But Kaloni has been so perfectly controlled, so ahead of me at every step. I just wanted her to be caught off guard once. To think she made a mistake setting me up with Cirocco.

Liwar and Sibel ask more questions as I devour seeded bread, peppery eggs, soft cheese, and a few cups of still too weak coffee. If I can’t have a good night’s sleep or escape this headache, I at least need this. Cirocco answers gamely, sticking to the script we discussed: this was my idea, but overnight, he fell for me. I sprinkle in enough of my own details that Kaloni could think I fell for him, too, without denying anything in her announcement. The twins seem awkward, but they slowly warm up to the idea.

“I wouldn’t mind another sister,” Sibel says finally.

My mark aches, and I almost wish Umit had burnt something so I could have a little smell of Amval this morning. He should be the one at my side, murmuring in my ear. Maybe he’d whisper those sly little jokes he’s started making when we’re alone, a break in his princely persona even where everyone can see him. He’d certainly have his hand on my knee, warm and heavy. Cirocco waits for me to touch him, and every time, he tenses just a little, like he’s trying to convince himself not to flinch away.

“And we can share clothes!” Liwar says. “You have some of the most stunning pieces.”

“Me?” I shake my head. “I saw that red dress you wore to the coronation, and I nearly wept.”

She blushes prettily. “Oh, I was nothing compared to Kaloni.”

I wait for Sibel to jump in and encourage her sister, but there’s a moment of quiet. Even Cirocco just stares down at his breakfast. Goddess, has everyone always had to come second to Kaloni, or is that new since she took the throne?

“When I wasn’t looking at her, I was looking at you,” I say to fill the silence, and when I nudge Cirocco, he nods.

Liwar opens her mouth, maybe to disagree with me but definitely to find out exactly how stubborn I can be when someone insults my sister. Before she can say anything, though, the door swings open, and she freezes.

Whispers crash through the room like a wave. The first ones I’ve heard all morning that aren’t about Cirocco and I. From here, I can’t make out what they’re saying, but they don’t have the same giddy tone.

These are shocked.

I turn to see Corwyn. No, not Corwyn—Lord Hajni. The servant’s uniform is gone, along with Redwood’s colors. In its place, he wears a heavily embroidered cloak in Moonlight Beach indigo over neat trousers and a tunic emblazoned with the symbol of his house.

“What is he doing here?” I hiss.

Kaloni doesn’t look up from her breakfast, but I can see her tiny smile. She knew he was going to do this. She gave him permission.

She doesn’t think he has to hide anymore.

Where the fuck is Joli? Where is Amval?

Cirocco grabs my hand and squeezes it almost tight enough that it hurts. The small burst of pain gives me enough space that I can breathe. Barely.

Corwyn marches toward us so confidently I expect him to pull out the empty chair that should be Joli’s, but Kaloni still isn’t that cocky. He sits a table away, with his precious Lord Rik and a few other nobles I know he’s been visiting. This close, I can see bandaged scrapes on his hands, likely from whatever happened to him after he crawled out the window, and a bandage on the back of his head from where Amval hit him. It oozes green, just like mine did yesterday—Kaloni sent him to the fucking royal healer to be patched up.

My blood boils. I squeeze Cirocco’s hand back as hard as I can. It’s the only Goddess-damned thing keeping me here instead of bolting across the room to finish what Amval started.

He was right. We should have brained Corwyn and been done with it. The spiraling web of Astralis looks more and more like a distraction when Corwyn and Kaloni sit within arm’s reach.

“Well, I am glad to hear you two have hit it off so well,” Kaloni says, suddenly looking up from her clean plate.

My pulse jumps like a deer smelling a wolf. I’ve stumbled into another trap. How does she keep laying them out when I’m not looking?

“We have,” Cirocco says warmly, not seeing the jaws about to swallow us.

“In that case, why wait?” She smiles graciously. “Without a mate bond, you must be missing some intimacy.”

“Uh….” Cirocco looks at me.

Kaloni’s smile brightens a shade, and I know we’ve lost. She saw right through us.

Dammit, where is Joli?

“Given how many pieces are already in place or leftover from the other… events we’ve had recently, I think I could plan a lovely wedding for you in, say, a week?” She looks around the room. “So many dignitaries are already here, so we wouldn’t need to worry much about invitations.”

“What about my family?” I blurt. “They are farther flung.”

“Oh, are you speaking to them again?” She blinks innocently. “Well, we’ll send our fastest messengers. I’m sure they can get here in time for the reception if they really try.”

Candace is in Snowcrest, at least three weeks away. Estrella just gave birth. Excuses crowd my mouth, but there’s no point.

The trap is sprung, and I’m right smack in the middle of it again.

“Thank you,” I mumble.

Cirocco echoes me. Listening to Liwar and Sibel chattering about wedding preparations makes the rest of my breakfast taste like ash.

When we can finally escape, I shuffle out into the hallway like a zombie. Kaloni has already assigned me a strict schedule of dress fittings and tastings. What little time I had melts away.

She is winning.

“Ingrid!” someone hisses.

I turn to see—Joli! She has dark bags under her eyes, is covered in dust, and leans around the corner, waving at us.

Fuck whoever can see us. I dart toward her. She has the news I’ve been waiting for.

Cirocco charges after me.

Joli starts to pull me away but then pauses and looks at her brother. “Is he…?”

“As up to date as you are,” I reply before shooting a warning glance at Cirocco. He can’t mention Amval. Not yet.

A smile I don’t understand flickers over Joli’s lips. “If you say so.”

She leads us into a tiny nook hidden by a painting. Close, breathless air clouds the space. My heart hammers in my mark, in my skull.

“Well?”

She takes a deep breath. “Amval is safe. Now, what are we going to do about our traitorous fucking sister?”