The Shadow Prince (24 page)

“Come, okay?” Tobin whispers into the phone. “I’m suspended through Friday, so I won’t get a chance to see you until then.”

“You’re still trying to change the subject.”

“The
subject
is the reason I want you to come. I need to show you something.”

“Okay. I’ll be there. But this had better be worth the wait.”

“It is,” he says, and hangs up.

chapter twenty-five

“A party?” I ask Dax as he pulls a glossy pair of shoes from a box and sets them in front of me. “Are you sure this is the best next step?” It has been four days since I have seen Daphne. Four long, mind-numbing days in which I have been forced to stay inside Simon’s house while on suspension, and now Dax wants my second sanctioned excursion into the world to be at a party. “And while wearing
this
around my neck? I’ll look like a fool,” I say, tugging at the long, striped length of cloth that he has tied so tightly around my collar, it feels like a noose.

Dax swats my hand away and fixes the knot I’ve loosened. “Everyone will be wearing ties. This is the party of the year.”

Simon worked his magic, or pulled some strings, or whatever it is he does, and managed to
procure
me an invitation to the mayor’s party—along with a spot in Olympus Hills High’s coveted music program. But I don’t know which one makes me more anxious at the moment: the thought of pretending to belong in a music class or the idea of going to a human party. I have been trained in the art of combat, not in singing, dancing, and making small talk with teenage girls.

“Someone really needs to make a few adjustments to Master
Crue’s lesson plans,” I say, slipping my feet into the stiff shoes. “I have no idea what I am doing.”

“Just play it cool,” Dax says.

He has forced me to don a pair of dark gray slacks and a white button-up shirt. Contrary to his protests, I have pushed the sleeves of the shirt up past my elbows, but I make sure the scars on my arm, which spell out Daphne’s name, are covered. I feel overly warm and suffocated in these clothes. “I don’t understand. You want me to pretend to be cold?” I fake a shiver. “Like this? What’s the point?”

Dax tries to stifle a laugh—not very well—and I realize I’ve been tripped up by another one of these “figures of speech” that I keep running into. I’m beginning to hate the English language.

“No, I mean, don’t go following Daphne around the party. Pretend you barely remember who she is.”

“I thought you told me not to be rude to her. Isn’t indifference the same?”

“No, what I’m saying is don’t act all stalkery. Let her come to you. Let her be the one to engage.”

“But what if she doesn’t?”

Dax looks me over and adjusts my tie one last time. “Trust me. She will.”

“I don’t know about all this music business,” I say, stalling my departure for the party. “Perhaps joining the music department isn’t the right course. I should find a different way to get closer to her.”

“No,” Dax says. “I think the music angle is your best shot. I’ve been doing some research into it and found that there’s a whole neurochemistry to singing that we can use to our advantage.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“There’s scientific evidence that when people sing together their brains release oxytocin—that’s a neurotransmitter, a chemical, that’s associated with social bonding. It causes a sense of well-being and trust toward the person you’re singing with.”

I nod, liking the sound of that, even though I don’t know how to sing.

Another concern eats at me. “But it’s forbidden,” I say. “Music isn’t allowed in the Underrealm.”

“We’re not in the Underrealm anymore.”

“But still …” The idea of outright breaking one of the Court’s most steadfast rules makes me feel as though my nerves have been left exposed to the open air. “If my father finds out …”

“Simon signed off on this plan—granted, reluctantly—so he’s not going to tell on you. Not unless you do something impulsively stupid again.”

I shake my head, not wanting to rehash what I did in the grove once more.

Dax puts his hand on my shoulder. “I know it goes against everything you’ve been taught, but sometimes Champions have to make exceptions to the rules. Just be smart about which ones you choose to
bend
.” He slaps my shoulder. “Now, go knock ’em dead.”

I assume he means that I should make a good impression at the party, and not to follow the literal interpretation of that expression.

chapter twenty-six

Back in Ellis, throwing a party usually meant a handful of friends, chips, dip, and a movie projected onto the side of my mom’s barn. But I get the feeling the mayor’s party isn’t like anything I’ve seen in Ellis when I find the garment bag that Marta has spread out on my bed. I’d been planning on wearing one of the maxi-skirts that had come in my boxes of belongings, which arrived earlier in the week, but as I unzip the garment bag, I find the most exquisite blue dress that I have ever seen. It’s a cascading silk gown, the color of brilliant blue cornflowers, with a strapless, sweetheart neckline. The boning in the ruched, crossover bodice holds tightly against my chest when I zip up the dress. The gown is lit with shimmering glass beads along the lace-trimmed empire waistline, and ruched blue silk sweeps through the floor-length skirt and trails behind me in a romantic train as I walk.

Marta has left a shoe box along with the dress. Inside, I find a pair of silver satin pumps with a crystal flower accent along the bridge of the open toe.

I pin one side of my hair back behind my ear with a silk flower, and let the rest hang long and loose. I look in my gilded mirror.

The color of my dress makes my eyes pop in my tanned face, and I can’t help thinking that the design of the outfit invokes the image of the Grecian goddess of springtime.

For the first time, I feel happy that Marta knows more about what is going on in my life than I do. I would have felt like a real country bumpkin, walking into a party in a maxi-skirt and tee if other people were going to be in gowns like this.

I am about to tear the sales tag from the dress when I see the price. My mother could probably buy two new coolers for the flower shop for how much my outfit costs. Instead of ripping off the tag, I cut it off carefully with a pair of scissors I find in my vanity drawer. Maybe if I can manage to keep the dress looking really nice, I can sell it on eBay after the party. My mom won’t take money from Joe, but maybe she’d take it from me.

I am not used to heels, and I am walking very carefully down the stairs, wondering how I am ever going to ride my bike to Tobin’s house in this dress, when I see Joe standing in the foyer. He’s wearing a slim-fitting suit that no doubt costs even more than my dress, and he’s dangling a pair of car keys in his hand. I almost slip on a stair. Joe is going to the music department’s party. Of course he is. He’s writing the play, after all.

“Ready, love?” he says with that darned cheeky grin of his. “I thought we’d take the Porsche.”

“I’m good on my bike. Maybe you should walk. Drunk driving is still a crime, even if you have a wall full of platinum records.”

“That stings, Daph. That really does,” he says, clutching his chest dramatically. “I haven’t had a drink all day.” He counts on his fingers. “Three days, actually.”

As I get closer to him, I do notice the lack of a liquor smell lingering in the air. He’s even splashed on a bit of cologne, removed
his longer extensions so his hair now frames his chin, and shaved. He looks better without the stubble.

“Good for you. I can still take my bike.”

“Good luck in that dress,” he says.

He does have a point. “I’ll walk, then.”

“Sorry, deary, it’ll be dark soon, and if you think I’m letting you out on those paths after what happened to that Perkins girl, you’ve got another thing coming. I nearly had a heart attack last time.”

“She’s the one who had the heart attack.”

“Sorry. Wrong phrasing, but the gist is, I’m driving you to the party or you’re not going at all.”

I give Joe a look that shows that I’m not amused. I don’t know where he gets off thinking he can pick and choose when to act like a real father. Though I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that part of me almost likes it. If his driving me to a party is enough to keep him from yucking it up with his good old buddies Jack and Daniels, it at least says something about him. What that something is, I’m not quite sure.

“Okay, we can go together. If you let
me
drive the Porsche,” I say, because a red Porsche is always more preferable to a yellow bike when making an entrance at a party.

“Do you know how to drive a stick shift?” Joe asks wearily.

“No, but I’m a fast learner.”

He hesitates for a moment.

“I can always walk.…”

“Fine,” he says, and hands over the keys. “You look stunning in that dress, by the way. I knew that color would be perfect with your eyes.”

“You picked out my dress?”

“Does that surprise you?” he says with a wink and grin.

Part of me wants to go back upstairs and change into my maxi-skirt just to spite him, but the part of me that has never felt so beautiful in my life manages to win out. “Thank you,” I say softly.

“Now let’s go party, shall we?” he says, offering me his arm.

The mayor’s mansion is on the exact opposite side of the lake from Joe’s place, so it takes us a while to drive there—mostly because I keep stalling out the Porsche. I am surprised at how well Joe has managed to keep his cool as we grind our way into Tobin’s driveway. We stop in a long line of cars waiting for valets at the front door.

“Right here’s good enough,” Joe says, gritting his teeth. “We’ll just let the valet come to us. How’s that?”

We idle in silence for a few minutes. There hadn’t been much time for talking on the drive over except for Joe’s strangled instructions on how to shift gears. “So …,” he says awkwardly, and I know an attempt at conversation is coming. Joe gives me a grin that reminds me of the stray dogs my mom is prone to bringing home. Long, reaching notes fill his voice as he asks, “What are your thoughts about the opera? Are you excited to be playing Eurydice? What do your friends think?”

I can’t help laughing. Doesn’t he realize that because of his “grand gesture,” I don’t have any friends? Other than Tobin, that is. I’d thought I didn’t care about meeting new people when I agreed to come to Olympus Hills, that I’d come just for the music, but after almost a whole week of having nobody to talk to at school, with Tobin out on suspension and the Sopranos’ blackballing me, I’d never felt so lonely. In Ellis, I had people to eat lunch with and hang out with on the weekends—here, I spend most of my free time writing new songs so I’ll look too busy to
care when the Sopranos pass me, talking behind their hands.

And I miss CeCe. I’d never been super-BFF-close with any of my school friends. But CeCe—despite her being almost five years older than me—and I had been supertight ever since she came to Ellis when I was eleven. Except now I’ve been gone for a week and still haven’t been able to get her to call me back. And my calls are all going straight to voice mail. Jonathan says she took the week off with the flu, but I can only think that she’s superpissed at me for abandoning her. And it only made things worse that today is her birthday.

But it’s more than the friends thing that irks me so much about Joe’s big surprise. It’s the same reason I wanted to change out of this gown when I’d heard he’d picked it out for me. Anger rises up my spine, and I find myself wishing I had changed.

“I’m not your puppet, Joe. You can’t just offer to buy me nice things or dress me up pretty and put me in some play and make me sing the words you’ve written—and pretend it makes up for every minute of my life that you’ve ignored me. You should have told me about your plans beforehand. You should have asked me if I wanted to be part of it.”

Joe’s grin vanishes. “I thought you’d be happy. I’m just trying to help.…” As they fall flat, I realize those reaching notes coming off him were the sounds of eagerness.

He really thinks he’s helping me, I realize. Mr. Morgan says that Olympus Hills productions usually bring in a huge audience, but with a name like Joe’s backing the opera, scouts from all the major music colleges, not to mention Broadway, and probably big recording labels will show up for opening night. This is a billion times bigger than that talent competition I’d wanted to enter back in Utah. Normally, I’d kill for a break as
big as this one. I’d work my butt off to take advantage of every second of the opportunity, and a part like this is exactly the reason I’d agreed to come to Olympus Hills. But I wanted to get the part because I’d earned it, because I’d put in the hard work—not because Joe gave it to me.