Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 132625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
I open my mouth and then close it again. Why indeed. Because you’re irresistible? Because the way you looked at me made me feel wanted for the first time in my life? Because I was weak? I swallow the lump in my throat. “I didn’t expect it to happen. Males don’t fall for me. But I wasn’t taking into account that I’d be Jasalyn to you. I mean, obviously I knew you’d think I was her, as that was the only reason I was there at all, but I forget that males have such a weakness for females who look like”—I breathe through the embarrassment heating my cheeks. I wave a hand to indicate Jasalyn’s form—“like this.”
He scoffs, then strides away. “I’ve never had a weakness for Jasalyn,” he calls without turning back. I don’t know what that is supposed to mean, so I make myself bite my bottom lip before I can embarrass myself by asking.
Even though I gave Misha a hard time about instructing me on how to get the attention of the lord’s son, I follow his instructions to a T: going to the window as if drawn by the view and then sneaking a glance toward Ezra.
His eyes are already on me, and I duck my head bashfully.
He’s nodding at something his father is saying, but I can feel his attention like a heavy coat in the summer.
The second time I glance his way, Ezra excuses himself from his father and comes to stand by my side at the window.
“Hello,” I say. If only I could will myself to blush.
“How has your evening been, Your Highness?” His eyes look me up and down over and over again. Greedy. Like he wants to gobble up the princess and doesn’t know where to start. Being an Echo gives me the empathic gift of detecting the relationship between people and how they feel about each other. Even if Brie hadn’t told me, I’d know now that though Ezra and Jas have no history, Ezra is desperate for her—but not in any romantic or affectionate way. He wants control of her.
“Long,” I say, trying to emulate a personality that’s the necessary mix of Princess Jasalyn and the flirtatious girl she’s never been. “I don’t much care for crowds. It’s hard to have a good conversation with so many people around.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” He stops a waiter and takes two glasses of wine from his tray before handing one to me. “The wine helps,” he says with a wink.
His eyes never leave mine as he drains half the glass in two swallows. When he nods to my glass, I take the world’s smallest sip. I need to stay alert. “Thank you.”
His face falls. “You don’t like it. Can I get you something else? Anything?” He’s nervous. I see it in the way he keeps wiping his palms on his trousers, in the way he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “Perhaps some tea or refreshments? I can call for your servants.”
I clasp my hands at my waist, trying to look as nervous as he seems. Not that it’s difficult. I don’t like being here. Don’t like the slimy feel of Lord Pandian’s eyes on me every time he looks this way. “I’m fine. I don’t need a thing.”
“I hope you’ll forgive me for saying so, but you look tired. Though no less beautiful than when you’re rested.”
I bow my head enough to look up at him through my lashes. “You don’t have to say that. I know I’m rather . . . plain.” Jasalyn, please forgive me for putting such a gross self-loathing sentiment in your mouth.
His eyes go wide, and I know it was worth it. “Not at all, Princess. To say you are plain is like saying that the sun is irrelevant or the raging sea is idle.”
“I am humbled by your praise,” I murmur.
“I’ve never been particularly interested in the lessons our tutors gave in literature, but your beauty could inspire me to write poetry.” His doughy white cheeks flame red, and now he’s the one ducking his head and looking embarrassed. “But I needn’t go on. I’m sure many males have told you as much.”
You only need a hair and a rendezvous, not a marriage proposal, Misha says into my mind. He seems . . . irritated?
I’m not sure when he returned to the ballroom or where exactly he’s standing, but I don’t let myself look for him.
“May I tell you something in confidence?” I ask Ezra.
He snaps his gaze back up to meet mine. “Anything. I am, you should know, a male you can trust—with your secrets and with your life.”
He lays it on a bit thick, doesn’t he? Misha grumbles in my mind.
I ignore him and give all my attention to Ezra. “My sister is a bit protective. So while you say you believe others have given me compliments like yours, it’s not true. Abriella fears males will take advantage of me if they get too close, but in truth . . .” I dart my eyes to either side of him, as if to make sure we won’t be overheard.