Three Kinds of Lost: A Reverse Harem Academy Romance (The True and the Crown Book 3)

by May Dawson

  He pulls a face. “Sorry. She’s my favorite person in the universe, but she’s also insufferable.”

  I can’t help smiling. “It must be nice to have a sister or a brother. I wish I weren’t on my own.”

  “You aren’t, are you?” His eyes study me carefully as he raises my hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to my first knuckle.

  That reminds me of how calloused his sister’s knuckles were, which is curious for a princess of Avalon. I run my thumb quickly over his rough knuckles.

  Rian tenses—or does he? He moves seamlessly to greet the dark-haired girl he’s waved over, bowing to her before he introduces her to me with his usual charm, and I’m not sure if I just imagined his reaction.

  “Julie Morgenstern is a refugee from Vasilik,” Rian explains. “And I suppose Tera has been a refugee from Avalon, so I imagine the two of you have something in common.”

  “Perhaps.” Julie greets me warmly, but her gaze is on Rian in a way that makes me think that perhaps we have a different common interest. Once the two of us are chatting, he touches my lower back as he excuses himself.

  “I heard you bonded with a unicorn today,” she says. “You are the luckiest, aren’t you?”

  “I’ve always had a knack with animals,” I say. When I was little, I’d had quite the menagerie: two hounds, two rabbits, a ridiculous number of cats. They’d been gone, like my mother, when I came back from boarding school. Just thinking about that day makes me feel a stab, my brain suddenly buzzing, and I force myself to smile at Julie.

  She narrows her eyes at Devlin as he, hand-in-hand with a girl, dances past. Devlin’s crown is tilted slightly cock-eyed on his curly head, and he has a look of faint amusement written across his handsome face. His beauty is ruined by his perpetual smugness.

  “It is quite odd seeing him here.” Her voice is tightly controlled, but hatred burns in her deep blue eyes.

  “He has an exceedingly punchable face, doesn’t he?” I muse out loud, thinking that it’s safe to say to Julie, and she laughs out loud.

  “Yes,” she says, her voice filled with surprise. “He does.”

  “How did you escape Vasilik?”

  “The Fox,” she says, and her voice turns dreamy. “He rescued me. And my whole family.”

  “Who do you think he is?”

  She shakes her head. “If I knew, I wouldn’t tell a soul.”

  “Tell me about how he rescued you.” I’m hungry for news of the Fox. I don’t realize that I’m curious to see more of him until the words have escaped my lips.

  She bites her lower lip, her perfect white teeth indenting her soft pink lip, hesitating as if she wants to protect him. Then she looks as if she’s made a decision about me. “We thought we were safe. Our family is minor nobility. My father died years ago, and my mother actually took a job teaching at the academy at Eirich. But then, one night, we were at supper, and we heard men outside and…”

  She trails off, as if the memory is painful, but she picks the thread back up. “They didn’t give us time to pack, or even to put on our shoes. I was barefoot. They loaded us into a locked carriage, and we were taken to a prison camp on the Eirich cliffs. We could see the sea, the sun setting over the crashing waves—everything so beautiful while we were starving, freezing, awaiting our sentence. I’ve heard they’re taking young people like us and putting them to work at the rips…” She shakes her head. “There’s so much that’s rumor. But I can tell you what’s real.”

  “The guards all fell over asleep, and the Fox came through with their keys. He’d poisoned their dinner. He had a ship waiting—he saved two hundred of us that night from whatever he had waiting.” Her furious gaze find Devlin in the crowd again, but when her voice turns dreamy, it’s clear she’s talking about the Fox. “He spoke to me. He said I’d been brave, but I didn’t ever need to be brave like that again, that he’d make sure we were protected in Avalon.”

  There’s a strange thrill of jealousy that runs through me at her words. Everyone’s in love with the Fox.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” I say, and I mean it. “What will you do now?”

  “We Vasiliks are resourceful,” she promises. “Now, would you come meet some of the other refugees? We’ve all gotten to be quite close.”

  “I’d like that.”

  She sweeps me away into a crowd. I glance over my shoulder to see Airren watching me. His eyes are as watchful as ever, but he smiles slightly.

  Julie introduces me to her younger sister and older brother, and the crowd that surrounds them. Apparently, Rian’s court is full of rescued Vasilik nobility. Everyone suspects that Rian knows who the Fox is.

  More than that, all the nobles of Avalon seem to adore the refugees from Vasilik—both Julia and her family in particular, and all the rich refugees in general.

  And strangely enough, they seem to adore me as well. The suspicion that I’m usually greeted with is absent in the palace. I find myself laughing, chatting with them, caught up in the magic of the evening.

  When I sense Airren over my shoulder, I excuse myself and slip away. The champagne’s going to my head, which feels as full of bubbles as my glass. I catch his hard forearm in my hand, hoping he can ground me.

  “Why are they so nice to me?” I ask Airren. My voice seems so quiet it might be lost in the music.

  “Just enjoy it, Tera,” Airren tells me. “You’re not an outcast here. The prince likes you. His court seems to find you quite charming.”

  “Why do you say that like it’s amusing to you?”

  “I’m happy to see you being charming.” He rests his hand lightly on my back. “I knew you had it in you.”

  “You’re being condescending again. Who exactly is going to teach me to be charming? Condescending is the opposite of charming.”

  “I just wish you’d let yourself be charmed.” He nods across the dance floor to Rian, who is surrounded by smiling girls in brightly colored dresses. I can’t hear them, but it appears they’re having some kind of contest over who gets to dance with him. Maybe they’re trying to see who can tell the best knock-knock joke. “You and Rian seemed to have a connection earlier.”

  “My heart’s already been taken by all the rude, patronizing nobles I can stand,” I tell him.

  “Tera,” he says. “I just want you to be safe.”

  I reach up and pat his cheek. “And I just want you to be nice, but here we are.”

  He catches my palm against his cheek. Having him hold my hand there, against the hard-planed edges of his face, makes my heart race as he leans in toward me.

  I expect one of his one-liners, but his gaze is intent, his voice deadly serious when he tells me, “What I really want is to have you to myself, but I need you here. Safe. That’s the only thing that matters to me.”

  His words are sweet and somehow chilling at the same time.

  Chapter 18

  “May I have this dance?”

  The prince of Vasilik—the prince of a stolen throne—holds out his hand to me. His crown is still crooked on his wild dark curls. The way he tilts his head back to look at me, cool and calculating and smug, his eyes dark under a fringe of heavy lashes, makes my heart beat a little faster.

  But I still rest my fingers on his palm and say, “Yes.”

  As he pulls me forward onto the dance floor, settling one hand on my hip, I wonder why I just did that. I could’ve begged off, I could have said I was tired. I’m finally in a place where I’m not the one everyone hates, and here I am, dancing with the one that they do.

  Maybe that’s why I’m dancing with him.

  He holds himself a polite distance away. Now that he has me in his arms, he looks over my shoulder, his gaze far-away, as if he’s not really that interested in me after all. I wonder why he’s even here. I know how unbearable it feels to be in a place where you are unwanted.

  “Why’d you ask me to dance?” I ask softly.

  “I wanted to get to know you.” He winces. “Also, I hate wh
en my shoes look unscuffed.”

  The toe of my shoe slips off his foot, and I stumble to catch up with him. I’ve done much better dancing tonight than I did at the last ball I attended, but it’s still been a while, and I’m out of practice. “Sorry.”

  “You don’t sound sorry.” His lips quirk up at the edges.

  It’s my turn to stare woodenly over his shoulder. But his lips are still in my peripheral vision. They’re nicely shaped lips over a determined jaw. He’s classically handsome, like a storybook prince, even if he’s intended to inherit a stolen throne.

  “What are you doing here?” he asks, stealing my line.

  “The prince invited me.”

  “And why do you think that was?”

  Because he remembers a girl that I used to be, a girl that died behind that house full of graves?

  “I’ve heard it said that I’m quite pretty.”

  “And modest too,” he notes without intonation.

  “A girl like me has to have something going for her.”

  “Is that really all there is? A pretty face?”

  I flash a smile at him in response. That’s my secret to keep.

  The music is fast and heady, magical, and I am keenly aware of my hand beginning to sweat against his graceful fingers. He’s beautiful, I’ll give him that. When my gaze meets his dark, glittering eyes, it’s hard for me to look away.

  “Is it true that there are Fae in your ancestry?” I ask him, interrupting whatever he was about to say next.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s one of my father’s many, many lies.”

  Does he have daddy issues, just like I do? My lips part, but I can’t say anything else before he spins me away. I duck gracefully under his arm and his hand settles back on my hip.

  “Remarkable,” he murmurs. “I was a little worried that you’d hurt someone if I tried to spin you.”

  “Hurting someone tonight could still be an option,” I tell him.

  “Are you threatening me?”

  He doesn’t seem offended. He seems amused. Arrogantly amused. I shrug in response.

  He’s an expert dancer, and now that he’s minding his toes, he leads the two of us to spin gracefully around the room. It’s a quick tempo song, and I’m breathing hard when it fades into silence.

  He unhands me immediately, gracelessly, turning away. Even though I didn’t want to dance with him to begin with, a spike of rejection stabs through me, followed by embarrassment. I tuck my hair behind my ears, glancing around to see if anyone saw the way he turned on his heel the second the music ended.

  He plucks two flutes of champagne from a waiter nearby and turns back, handing one to me. He towers above me, tall and slender, his body leanly muscled. I can see why some people think there’s Fae blood in his ancestry.

  Besides, he’s strangely magnetic even with all his flaws, which I am already cataloging despite having just met him tonight.

  “Here,” he says. “You look thirsty.”

  “I don’t think champagne is the answer to thirst,” I respond.

  “I think it is.” He takes a long sip of his, his eyes still on my face. He looks like he’s made a decision when he sets down the glass and rests his hand on my lower back. “Take a walk with me in the garden?”

  “That seems like a bad idea.” I blurt the words out before I can soften them. Maybe Airren is not the one who will cause an international incident after all. Maybe that honor will be mine.

  But his lips quirk up the way they did earlier. It’s almost a real smile. I wonder what he looks like when he isn’t smirking.

  “Perhaps. Will you humor me anyway?” He nods behind me. “Your bodyguard will be following us, I’m sure.”

  “Bodyguard? Just one?” I glance over my shoulder. Where has Mycroft gone? It almost worries me more when I can’t keep track of one of my men. Lord only knows what he’s doing.

  Airren is, as expected, watching over me from across the room, no matter how much he appears to be deep in conversation as he sips amber liquid from a crystal goblet. I know him well enough to feel his attention from here. Cax is dancing the newest song—a bright, bouncy reel—with a laughing girl. I know how much Cax loves to dance, and it doesn’t make me feel jealous at all. I smile, knowing he’s having fun. Cax is in his element here.

  The bubbly music, even quicker and headier than the last song, urges me to escape the dance floor while I can. I’m still trying to catch my breath.

  “The garden is lovely,” I say.

  Devlin offers me his arm.

  “I hope I’m not ruining my reputation,” I say to him as I tuck my hand over his forearm.

  “I hope you’re not ruining mine,” he shoots back.

  “You have a point,” I concede. “Two people as popular as we are should probably stay away from each other.”

  “Or stick together,” he suggests.

  We’ve reached the edge of the dance floor, and now we step out from the brightly lit room to the garden. The sky above is speckled with stars.

  What am I supposed to say to him? His father is working with the True, and he probably is too. The Vasiliks also want to close the rips and seal Avalon away entirely from the dirty influence of Earth and the other non-magic realms.

  He glances away when I don’t respond. It must feel like a rejection.

  “You never really told me why you’re here,” I say. “You aren’t very popular.”

  “You are very blunt, aren’t you?”

  “I spent too long dirtside.”

  “How is Primus?”

  He asks like he’s inquiring after the health of a friend.

  “Terrible,” I say. Then, with genuine curiosity, “Have you been there?”

  “I didn’t think it was terrible. Certainly, there are an awful lot of people trying to make it terrible.” He wraps his fingers around my champagne glass, which I still haven’t sipped from, and raises it to his lips. “But that’s true here too.”

  I take my glass back. “Were you giving me a glass of champagne earlier or just conniving me into holding it so the prince of Vasilik wouldn’t be seen double-fisting?”

  His lips curl up at the corners. “I might be inclined to get a little drunk here. It makes it easier to bear all the passive-aggressive whispers.”

  “From the refugees?” My voice comes out dry. Hmm, I wonder why they would be passive-aggressive.

  “They’d be on my father’s side if it was someone else being killed, and there was money to be made.”

  That word, killed, makes the growing ease between us pop. I glance away, suddenly uncomfortable, studying the white-shining plants under the moonlight. There’s Night-Blooming Flox planted all over the garden. I wonder if that’s a recent development. The Fox is very popular in Avalon culture right now; I’ve even seen girls with Night-Blooming Flox braided into their hair this evening.

  “So, things are what I’d consider bad in Vasilik,” I say.

  “They’re what I’d consider bad too.” He glances away, but I don’t think it’s because he’s uncomfortable meeting my gaze. His hand flutters, as he casts, and he brushes against my arm. He’s checking to make sure we aren’t being eavesdropped on.

  “So what are you doing about it?” I ask him.

  “Blunter and blunter.”

  “If people are dying…”

  “It’s not that simple,” he says.

  “I’m sure it probably is to them.”

  It’s his turn to duck his head, conceding my point.

  “The nobles have never been friends to the common people,” he says. “I’m not sure why they think we should be their friends now.”

  “I thought you were a prince yourself.”

  He touches the crown as if he’d forgotten about it, shoving it even more askew. It makes him look like a boy playing dress-up despite that dangerously handsome face.

  He hasn’t said anything that means anything, and yet, the strange thought wriggles through my brain that he could be the F
ox, working against his father’s devices. He could have rescued the Vasilik nobles and brought them to safety in the court only to be disparaged by them, not knowing his face.

  But he probably isn’t. Certainly, I should let him think that I might be loyal to the True, or might not.

  “You’ve knocked your crown crooked,” I tell him, waggling my finger at him. “I’ll fix it.”

  He bends his head obediently. It surprises me, the way he leans forward as if we know each other well. Then my fingers are in his hair, his tousled dark curls, as I fix the crown. It’s strange being so intimately close to him. He smells good.

  “You found a way to make me bow to you, hm?” His voice is teasing. “Are you going to do the same to Rian?”

  “We’ll see how the evening unfolds.”

  “An evening? That’s a confident timeline.”

  “So you know Rian well?” Despite the chill between them.

  His lips quirk. “You aren’t supposed to call him that.”

  I touch my finger to my lips. “Keep my secret. I’m terrible at etiquette.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “And yet, you’re still here talking to me.”

  “I find you curious.”

  I’m not sure how to take that. His eyes are bright and intent.

  Thankfully, he goes on, and the sudden awkward moment falls away. “I’ve known Rian since we were boys. We went to school together before my father…” He makes a small, flippant gesture in the general direction of the universe.

  “Staged a coup and took over the government of Vasilik?”

  He nods. “I stayed at school through that, actually. On the border between Vasilik and Avalon.”

  “Oh. My father brought me home before his bid to rule the world.”

  “How was that?”

  “Bloody.” I say it lightly, like a joke. But it isn’t. Even though he’s sipped from my glass, I raise it to my lips and down the rest.

  “You shouldn’t get drunk tonight,” he tells me. “Neither should I.”

  “I thought you already were.”

  He shrugs. “I hold my liquor well. Can you say the same?”