Chapter 17 Chapter 17
Chapter 17 Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Andre’s POV
"Who are you trying to warn?" I ask, a small, tight smile playing on my lips as I sit up from the couch. I try to make it sound like a joke, but we both know it isn't.
She snorts, adjusting a strap on the shoulder of the ruby-red fabric. "No one in particular, Andre. Just some people who think they can step over their rank. You know how it is...sometimes a reminder is necessary so everyone remembers where they belong in the food chain."
Her eyes meet mine in the mirror, sharp and calculating. She’s talking about the East Wing. She’s talking about the human girl again.
Why is she so interested in her?
"If you're going for a 'warning,' this is a bit too obvious, don't you think?" I ask. I stand up, the leather of the couch creaking as I move over to the long racks of designer gowns. "Why don't you go for something more daring?"
I begin to slide the hangers along the gold-plated rack, the silk and lace whispering as they move. Olenna follows me, her interest piqued. She loves it when I take an interest in her "image." It feeds the delusion that we’re the perfect power couple.
"Daring?" she repeats, arching a perfectly groomed brow. "I thought you liked the red. You said it looked like a warning."
"It does. But a warning is only effective if they see it coming," I say, my fingers stopping on a dress that catches the light. It’s a deep, midnight emerald, almost black, but with a shimmer that looks like moonlight hitting a dark forest. "This is more you. It’s subtle. It’s the kind of dress someone wears right before they strike."
She walks over, her fingers grazing the fabric. I can see the gears turning in her head. She wants to be the center of the room, the only woman meant for me.
"Emerald," she muses, pulling the hanger from the rack. "It would match the family crest. And it fits the 'Silver and Black' theme better than the red if I pair it with the right jewelry."
"Exactly," I mutter, turning back to my phone as it vibrates in my pocket.
It’s another text from Ulric: "You're slowly turning me into Henna's bodyguard when I clearly have nothing to do with her. It's a hassle every time you make me do this."
"I thought you enjoy it," I shoot back, my thumbs flying over the keyboard as I keep an eye on Olenna. "You always love things like this. Playing the hero is your brand, Ric."
The bubbles on the screen dance for a second before his reply pops up. "Come on Andre, the only thing I'm doing this for is because I want to know how she crossed the border. She shouldn't even be able to see the trees, let alone drive through the gate. It's biologically impossible."
"Me too," I type, my jaw tightening as I glance toward the dressing room area where Olenna is inspecting a mirror. "I won't know if I'm around her. Olenna will throw a fit and you know it. She's already looking for a reason to snap."
"You're zoning out again," Olenna’s voice cuts through my thoughts like a cold blade.
I look up, realizing I’d been staring at the glowing screen for too long while standing right next to her. She’s right in front of me now, the emerald dress draped over her arm, her eyes narrowed with a flicker of sharp suspicion.
"Sorry, I'm here," I mutter, shoving the phone back into my pocket and reaching out to adjust the hanger she’s holding.
She doesn't look entirely convinced. "What did Ric say this time?"
"He doesn't like the colour of the day, said it smells like madness." I lie and it works as she snorts before stepping away to put on the dress.
She comes out, looking at the mirror before replying, "Ric never likes my choices when I'm not around, if he sees me, he'd be worshipping the colour of the day I chose for the party."
"You know Ric so well."
"Of course, even to the way he looks at your sister," she says, her voice casual, yet I can feel the trap being set. She turns to look at me briefly, her eyes sharp. "You think I wouldn't find out that he has a crush on your sister?"
Bringing up my sister isn't just small talk. It’s a reminder that she sees everything, every alliance, every weakness, every lingering look.
"Ric has a crush on everyone who doesn't give him the time of day," I say, keeping my voice flat and bored. I reach for a heavy silver necklace on a nearby display, letting the cold metal clink against my palm. "It’s his favorite pastime. Besides, my sister is far too busy with the diner to pay attention to Ric's flirts."
Olenna laughs, but it’s a dry, humorless sound. She turns back to the mirror, smoothing the emerald fabric over her waist. "Right. But he’s a loyal one. And loyalty is such a rare currency in Gray Ridge these days, don't you think?"
She catches my eye in the reflection, her gaze pinning me down. "I hope you’re as loyal as he is, Dre."
I sigh as I stand, going over her back, I begin to wear the necklace on her neck.
"The dress is perfect, Olenna," I say, placing my hands on her shoulders to admire the necklace. Her skin is cold. "It's your birthday. Let’s focus on the Queen of the night."
She leans her head back against my chest, finally relaxing an inch. "The Queen," she repeats, tasting the word. "And you’re my King. Don't forget that tonight, we need to give the students a show and as well, assert authority as their future rulers."
"I'll be there," I promise. It’s a promise I have to keep, even if every instinct I have is screaming at me to go back to the East Wing and make sure Henna is okay. Or maybe see her face today.
"Good. Now, help me with these clasps," she commands, her voice returning to its usual spoiled lilt. "And then we’re going to find the perfect pair of shoes. Something with a heel sharp enough to draw blood."
"Let's do that..." I whisper, moving over to the display rack to find a pair of shoes that would suit her legs. My hands hover over a set of dark, obsidian-heeled pumps, but my mind is a mile away, still stuck on the "future rulers" comment.
"What do you think about us sleeping together tonight?"