Page 32 of Heartless Sinner

Okay, fine, there had been two incidents.

Two unfortunate accidents, I’d like to correct.

The second was when I’d accidentally set the decorative arch on fire while saging it before the ceremony. No one had warned me it was highly flammable.

Saging was a Calira tradition. Most people did it at least once a week in their homes.

We didn’t fuck around with bad energy around here.

He cleared his throat, tipping his head at me.

I gave him my most innocent smile, as if promising I wouldn’t set anything on fire this year.

He looked away, but I didn’t relax.

Staying out of trouble was easier said than done for me.

Because I had one demon haunting me that no sage in the world could get rid of.

Brooks fucking Byron.

After breakfast, Elodie whisked me away to the tailor’s quarters to get fitted for my Tide Ball gown. Then we strolled through the gardens, stopping whenever someone wanted to talk with me.

That part of being a princess came easy to me. My mom had once told me I’d been a chatterbox since birth and could hold a conversation with a wall.

I was in the castle sunroom now, staring at the sea and wondering if attending Saint Vale had been the biggest mistake of my life.

Three thousand miles away from Saint Vale, and Brooks was still finding ways to fuck with me.

“Why didn’t you share the good news with me?”

I turned around at my mom’s voice. She walked in, a smile already stretching across her face.

We hadn’t had a second alone since I’d arrived.

I waited for her to explain what this good news was.

So far, there’d been no good news in my life for weeks.

Maybe even months.

“Cory chose you as his Fawn,” she said.

Ah, she had old news.

I tried to form the words to correct her, but she kept going.

“I know; I know. I’m not supposed to know that, given our situation. The prime minister told me in private. He said he couldn’t hide something this important from me.”

I’d left her in the dark because there was no way I was explaining the whole Fawn disaster over the phone. That conversation needed to happen in person.

Especially since I was still plotting how to get out of it.

She came over, her brown hair falling over one shoulder in vintage waves. She still looked twenty years younger than she was.

She sat down beside me. “Cory will be a great Son for you.”

I dragged my palm over the cushion. “Cory wasn’t who chose me.”