The Traitor Prince (Ravenspire #3)

“Do you have a dance partner yet?”

The eerily quiet voice came from behind him, and his breath caught in his chest. For one awful second, he thought he was dreaming. That he’d conjured her out of need and want, and when he turned, his room would be empty. Slowly, heart pounding, he turned, and there she was. Standing in his doorway, her skin glowing like starlight against the brilliant blue of her silk gown, her black hair hanging loose and free down her back.

He crossed the distance between them in five steps, scooped her into his arms, and held on tight.

“You came back.” His voice shook as he buried his face against her hair.

“I did.” She sounded shy.

He closed his eyes as his hands lay against the bare skin of her back. “I thought you might not want to see Akram ever again.”

“I didn’t come back for Akram.”

He pulled away, and she smiled. The shadows that had haunted her eyes in Maqbara still lingered, but stronger than her ghosts was the light of tender hope that glowed on her face.

“I want to show you something,” she said as she pulled one of his hands from her back and placed it on her heart instead. “Can you feel that?”

He waited, and then nearly jumped away from her as the strange, prickling heat of her magic gathered beneath his palm, stinging and buzzing.

“You don’t need words and promises,” she said.

He smiled. “I said that to you once.”

“And you were right. But I haven’t said nearly enough to you. Will you let me show you?” she asked.

He nodded, and then her magic pierced him, moving through his blood like a thunderstorm. He staggered, and she caught him. Steadied him as her truth was revealed.

“Tell me,” she said softly.

He met her eyes. “You’re hurting still, and you aren’t sure you’ll ever be whole.”

Her eyes darkened. “What else?”

“You found the stars and the wide-open spaces you crave, but . . .” He frowned and then his heart began pounding, his stomach tingling.

“But?” she asked, and he started smiling.

“But something was missing.”

She raised a brow, and his smile felt too big for his face.

“What was missing?” she asked.

“Me.” Wonder filled him at the truth that glowed like a jewel in the midst of her magic.

She leaned close, her lips a breath away from his. “Why did I come back, Javan?”

Everything inside him fell into place—the grief of what he’d lost, the burden of ruling his people, the longing he felt for the girl who’d sacrificed herself to give him his kingdom—as he said, “Because you love me.”

She kissed him, wild and pure and sweet as her magic swirled between them.

“I love you,” he breathed.

She grinned. “I said it first this time. You’re getting slow living in all this luxury.”

He laughed. “Do you still remember how to dance?”

She gave him a look that sent his pulse thundering. “I remember that I’m already better at it than you are.”

“Want to prove it?” he asked as faint strands of music from the orchestra floated in through his open window.

“Fine. But it’s not my fault if your people take one look at my skills and decide to give me the crown instead.”

He laughed as he led her through the tiled hallways of the palace, her hand tucked in his arm, her eyes lit with the joy of challenging him.

For the first time since he’d entered the palace as its ruler, he felt at peace.





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


Thank you to Jesus, who gives me strength and is my hope.

Writing books is a mostly solitary endeavor, but none of my stories would ever hit the shelves if it wasn’t for the incredible support I have from family, friends, and my publishing team. A big thank-you to my husband, Clint, for being my biggest fan, for taking on extra duties when deadlines approach, and for always being invested in me. Another thank-you to my kids—Tyler, Jordan, Zach, Johanna, and Isabella—for helping me get my work done and for being proud of me. Also a huge thanks to my parents for jumping in to assist in household projects, grandkid wrangling, or assisting me with my job, and to my sister, Heather, who is always one of my first readers, and my brother-in-law, Dave, whose support makes it possible for me to step out of my busy life to do book travel or to hide away in my office and hit my deadlines. Nobody cooks noodles like you, Dave.

I’m also grateful to Melinda Doolittle for being my beta reader and biggest cheerleader; to Jodi Meadows, KB Wagers, and Shannon Messenger for writing sprints, great advice, and even greater friendship; and to Kayla King and Beth Edwards, who shoulder extra weight to keep YABooksCentral.com running for me when I’m traveling or on deadline.

I’d also like to express my undying appreciation for the incredible publishing team at Balzer + Bray. Seven published works in, and I am still constantly impressed by your talent, dedication, and skill. From my rock star editor, Kristin Rens, who always pushes me to create the best version of the story that I possibly can, to Kelsey Murphy, Kristin’s always awesome assistant, to the amazingly gifted Sarah Kaufman and Alison Donalty, who design my covers, to my publicist, Caroline Sun, and the rest of the publicity and sales team, you are simply stellar, and I owe you at least nine hundred cookies delivered by Tom Hiddleston himself. I’m also grateful to Martha Schwartz for doing such a thorough copy edit on a book that needed a lot of double-and triple-checking, and to my sensitivity reader for loving Javan and Sajda and for helping me finesse the culture of Akram so I could tell the story as it needed to be told.

More gratitude goes out to Holly Root for being the agent in my corner. You remain one of the best life choices I’ve ever made.

And finally, a huge thank-you to YOU, my readers. May you lose yourself in my stories, laugh, cry, swoon, and stay up way too late turning pages. Meeting you and talking books and fictional worlds is the best.

C.J. Redwine's books