I’m grateful for Keller’s choice because even I can’t deny that this red dress is smoking hot. The dress clings to my curves and is cut low in all the right places, so as to entice a little, but not too much. The silk makes the ensemble look elegant, while the lace makes it just the right kind of sexy.

My jet black hair falls like a silken waterfall down my lace covered back and is swept back from my face by diamond encrusted clasps.

I almost died of shock when Keller dragged me to Ivy’s room earlier to have my make-up done, because I would have thought that the girl would sooner claw her own face off than help me in any way.

But Keller had been right about Ivy—her bark was worse than her bite and she isn’t Layla. She didn’t say much as she applied the powders and tints in all the right places, but she didn’t need to. I got it—her loyalties are with her friend, but it didn’t need to be anything personal against me. I can respect that.

I expected her to bring up Dani and Lance. But weirdly, she didn’t and I wonder how much she actually cares.

I have to hand it to the girl, though, Keller is right, Ivy knows how to work a make-up brush. The dark brown, grey and black powders are perfectly blended around my eyes in what has to be the best smoky eye look I’ve ever seen in real life. I usually hate drawing attention to those violet eyes with the silver rings. But tonight, the kohl lining makes that unnatural coloring look almost beautiful, stunning. The hint of blush across my cheekbones is just the right flush and the deep ruby red tint that Ivy expertly applied to my lips makes them look both sensual and demure.

“Jazmine—get your sexy butt down here.”

I take a deep breath because despite the dress and the make-up, I’m nervous as hell or maybe it’s because of them that the nerves are jangling through my body. Is it too much? I hate being the center of attention, eyes on me. I’m so used to just trying to stay invisible, drifting from place to place, observing life around me with my artist’s eye, rather than living it. But that all changed when I came to Eden, the looks, the attention and even though I’ve felt hate, been hated, had my hopes and maybe even my heart crushed, I realize that at least, I’ve been living.

And tonight, as I walk down the sweeping marble staircase at Sovereign Hall, every fiber in my being does feel alive.

The large reception hall falls silent as I descend the marbles steps. Baron is standing on the side nearest to the kitchen, pouring drinks for his not one, but two dates. He misses one of the glasses and vodka sloshes onto the counter as his jaw practically hits the floor. I almost want to laugh, despite feeling embarrassed as hell.

Lance is standing with Dani, near Baron. Both of them are looking at me like they’ve never seen me before.

Keller’s date is trying hard not to stare, but Keller doesn’t seem to mind, she picked this dress after all, so she’s to blame. Ivy and her date stand next to Keller and I’m surprised to see the pride in Ivy’s face as she surveys her work.

I try not to look at the figure by the door. But clearly, I’m a glutton for punishment because my eyes find Raph anyway. They always do.

This isn’t the first time I’ve seen him in a tux. The dark tux he’s wearing tonight is similar to the one he wore at that first ceremony—finely made and elegantly cut to fit his tall, yet powerfully muscled frame. But tonight, his beauty is utterly devastating and I feel an ache in my chest as I take in that golden hair, those uncanny blue eyes and that impossibly perfect face. The face of an angel. He carries himself like he knows that he has the world at his feet, and in that moment, he looks every inch the heir to the throne that he is. His aura emanating the authority of the crown that is his by birthright.

Those blue eyes burn into mine and something flickers in their depths as he takes in the sight of me. I see the way his throat works, the way his lips part slightly and the way his chest hitches as he takes a sharp intake of breath. He steps forward, as if almost involuntarily drawn and I feel the universe narrowing so that nothing exists but the two of us standing there in the vastness of time and space.

But something stops him in his tracks, and the illusion is shattered. My gaze falls to Layla’s hand on his forearm, holding him back and I feel the touch like a stab to my own chest.

Layla is a vision of white and gold, with her golden blonde hair, emerald green eyes and perfect face. She fits so perfectly with Raph, that it’s painful to look at. They look so right together, made for each other. She’s his queen and has been since the day he was born. I don’t know what, for a second, made me think otherwise. I can’t think about Raph’s words just then—when I’m around you I can’t think straight. Because I think, in that moment, I understand what Raph wasn’t able to say. The reason why it can never matter. Layla is what matters and she will always be the one by his side.

I’m horrified to feel the moisture pooling in my eyes and I blink it away rapidly before anyone can see.

“You look beautiful, Jazmine,” Devon’s voice startles me as I reach the bottom of the staircase. I hadn’t seen him standing there and I feel a flash of guilt as I look up at that wholesome face. He looks handsome tonight in a tux jacket and black pants and the look in those clear hazel eyes tells me that there is nowhere else he’d rather be than taking me to this dance. It’s uncomplicated, simple, nice. It’s safe and that should be enough for me.

So, I paint on a smile as I let him pin my corsage to my dress. Raph says nothing, but I can feel him watching the way that Devon’s fingertips graze the bare skin just above my chest. But I can’t care about the fire in his eyes. He’s made it clear where he stands, so now I have to do the same.

* * *

The limo ride to the St. Tristan palace helps ease my nerves. Baron and his two dates, Lance and Dani, Keller and her date rode in the same limo as Devon and me. Raph, Layla, Ivy and her date plus two other guys from the soccer team and their dates rode in the other.

By the time we reach the St. Tristan palace, I’m almost enjoying myself. Devon is the perfect date. He’s polite, laughs at my jokes, opens doors for me, doesn’t taunt me or make fun of me. I should be enjoying myself.

When we step into the decadent ballroom at the St. Tristan palace, I feel like I’ve stepped into a fairy tale. Everything is gold and the ballroom gleams like a jewel in the night. Orbs of firelight float high in the rafters of the impossibly tall ceiling, as silk and lace swirl on the vast dance floor beneath.

This is my first high school dance, but I’m pretty sure this is far and above a normal high school dance. Not least because the Dynasty heads seem to be in attendance. Magnus called a few days ago to ask if I was coming, but said that he wouldn’t be here because he’s away attending to official business, whatever that means.

I realize as I look at my opulent surroundings, that this place is Raph’s home. I mean, of course, the Evenstar palace is just as decadent, but I still don’t really consider that as mine and I sure as hell didn’t grow up there. The thought only makes me realize all the more that Raph did the right thing by cutting things off before they could even start. Things are better this way, because we both know that nothing could ever come of whatever that was between us.

I willingly take Devon’s arm, as he leads me to the dance floor and at the same time, I see Raph lead Layla in a waltz. I follow Devon’s lead, holding my palm out to meet his and my hand touches his at exactly the same moment as Raph’s hand closes around Layla’s.

I try to focus on Devon as we dance together and considering my inexperience with any kind of waltzing, he does a great job of leading us through it. But my gaze travels to Raph and Layla more than once. I’m not the only one though, because everyone is watching them. Together, they shine brighter than all the gold and jewels surrounding them. The future king of Eden and his queen. I can’t bear the sight of it, but at the same time, I can’t look away.

My stomach twists irrationally at the sight of Layla’s hand in his and his hand resting on her perfectly curved hip. Raph’s face is like stone, his eyes shuttered—the face of the heir to the throne of Eden.

After a few more beats, the pairs on the dance floor shift and I find herself passing from the safety of Devon’s arms to Raph’s.

Something like fear races down my spine and I can feel the slight tremor in my hand as he takes it in his. His touch is devastatingly gentle on the bare skin at the small of my back, and I’m all too aware of the way his fingers flex as he draws me closer. The contact of his bare skin on mine at such a sensitive spot, is almost too much to bear.

I can feel how equally affected Raph is in the way that his breath hitches as he draws closer, seeming to inhale the very scent of me, in the running stag clamor of his heartbeat against my own.

Neither of us speaks as Raph leads us through the dance, but when my eyes lock onto his, I can see the way they darken as they travel over every inch of my face, drinking in the sight of me.

Everywhere our bodies touch, I feel the fire. His powerfully muscled body presses against mine and I feel my body respond, as if it has a mind of its own. Heat pools deep in my core and I feel something primal and raw course through me.

The traitorous feelings are insane and wrong in every sense of the word. Looking at someone like this, feeling these sensations, mean something and I shouldn’t be allowing it to happen.

Raph raises a hand to my face, as if helplessly drawn. His fingertips are gentle on my cheek, barely a ghost of a touch, but I feel it in every part of me.

“What are you doing?” My voice is a ragged whisper and I’m barely able to speak.

He closes his eyes, and touches his forehead to mine.

“I don’t know.” He repeats those words, and it’s enough to draw me out of the trance. I’m aware of my surroundings again and I can see that people are starting to stare. Devon is frowning as he watches us, and Layla looks like she’s about to walk over here and pull us apart.

There are another pair of eyes on me, too, which I don’t recognize, but I think I’ve seen once before. I look over to the edge of the dance floor and find a man with blonde hair, a few shades lighter than Raph’s and amber eyes looking over at us. His expression is neutral, but I sense the displeasure in the depths of those eyes. I can’t place that face, but his attire tells me that he is one of the Dynasty heads. The realization comes to me then that he’s Raph’s father. I recognize him because not only does he share some of Raph’s handsome features and imposing stature, I also recall that veiled look of disapproval from that first ceremony.

I look away from the man and gathering what control I have left, I turn to Raph and step away from him.

“This isn’t a good idea,” I manage to say, although I can hear the tremor in my own voice.

I don’t wait for Raph to respond as I walk away from him and find a quiet corner of the hall to gather my thoughts.

I’m not alone for long though.

“Jazmine, it’s a pleasure to see you again, and settled into Regency Mount so well.” I turn to find Raph’s father in front of me. His tone is pleasant enough, but his words seem oddly hollow.

“Jethro St. Tristan,” he says, holding out his hand. I take it after a moment, although I can feel the levels of discomfort rising inside me. I find myself thinking about that day on the cliff and Raph telling me about his mother’s depression which eventually took her life. How his father, this man standing before me now, hid it, was ashamed of it and cared more about his Dynasty than his own wife. The thought of it makes me sick and it’s a struggle to take his hand without letting the disgust show on my face.

“We didn’t get to speak properly at the presentation ceremony, but you’ve met my son, Raphael St. Tristan? I see you two seem to have gotten to know each other quickly.”

I blink at his words, because I know that they aren’t what they seem.

“Yeah, he’s in some of my classes and of course, we both live at Sovereign Hall.”

“Yes, so you will have seen how unruly he is.”

I stare at him in surprise.

“I’m not sure what you mean …” I reply, tentatively.

“Oh, I think you do. I have eyes everywhere when it concerns my Dynasty.”

I feel a chill race down my spine.

“I’m well aware of my son’s indiscretions—the girls, the partying, the unruly behavior.

“Most of it is his way of rebelling against me. But it won’t last long—Raphael is going to be the king of Eden, his life has been planned for him since the day he was born. He was raised for the throne. His life has purpose, meaning, in a way that you wouldn’t understand.”

I feel insulted by that, although I know the words are true. My life so far has been a meaningless blur, I can’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like to have it all planned out for me the way Raph does. But I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing anymore.

“I must admit that the motion to bring Arwen’s secret heir to Eden was not one that I initially supported. You are half human after all, and being raised on Earth with your background—well, one could only conclude that you wouldn’t belong here in Eden, let alone be suited to the life of an heir to a sovereign Dynasty.”

His tone is diplomatic, but his words are cutting all the same, and I can feel myself bristling.

“But I don’t suppose it matters, because nothing will change the fact that Raphael is next in line to the throne, wouldn’t you agree, Jazmine?”

“Yeah, of course—why would anything change that?” I look back at him in confusion, because I have no idea what he’s trying to say.

Before he can respond, I feel Raph’s presence.

“Father,” he says. He’s wearing that shuttered expression again.

“Raphael. Always a pleasure to see you, my son.”

Raph nods stiffly and I feel a strange tension in the air between him and his father. Everything is so formal, so emotionless.

“I was just telling Jazmine here about how much you’re looking forward to ascending to the throne and how nothing will be getting in the way of that,” he says. Again, his words are full of some other meaning.

I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to anyone so seemingly pleasant and yet so cold. I get the feeling, though, that this is what is required of those in power. They spin a tangled web and their pleasant words are laced with deceit. But Magnus isn’t like this, or at least he doesn’t seem to be.

I catch something like anger flash in the depths of Raph’s eyes. But it’s gone in an instant, retreating beneath that mask of stone.

“Of course,” Raph replies evenly. Not a shred of feeling in his voice. He’s so closed off, that he may as well be one of the stone pillars lining the ballroom.

“And of course, there’s your impending betrothal ceremony to Layla.” The words sound casual, but they are very deliberate.

“Did you know, Jazmine, that the St. Tristan Dynasty and the Delphine Dynasty have been linked through marriage for generations?”

I feel my levels of discomfort rising to record levels.

“Really? It sounds kind of incestuous.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I can’t believe that I’ve spoken them. But then again, Raph’s father is right, I’m not cut out for this sovereign Dynasty bull. I say what I mean and suddenly, I don’t want to waste any more energy trying to sift through the hidden meanings or trying to pick the roses amongst the thorns.

I get the message loud and clear. Raph is going to be King, his life has meaning, his life has a purpose. I’m a nothing and no one. A half breed who doesn’t belong here and I should stay as far away from Raph as possible so that he can ride off into the sunset and continue the interbreeding tradition of his Dynasty. Message delivered.

I feel like saying so out loud, but the look on Raph’s father’s face is outraged enough that I think saying anything else would probably push him over the edge, and as much as I’d enjoy seeing that, I just don’t have the energy.

I don’t even bother to excuse myself as I walk away because I don’t think I can spend a second longer in this place without feeling like I’m going to break apart.