The Black Rose is as busy as I’ve ever seen it, with people everywhere smiling and laughing, not a care in the world, oblivious to the dire situation unfolding for their neighbors. My hands want to tighten into fists, but I force them to remain relaxed at my sides as I push through the revelry in search of a prince who may very well hold the fate of an entire village in his careless hands.

I find Ronan near the back door with Ivee hanging on his every word as he regales her with some fanciful story. Two guards I don’t recognize stand a short distance away, scanning the crowd for trouble through somber eyes.

As if she can hear my pounding heart, Ivee turns her head slowly, her gaze widening when she sees us. A sneer pulls at her painted lips, but Ronan doesn’t so much as spare us a glance.

This is going to be much harder than I imagined.

Nia steps in front of me, her eyes narrowing as she trades glowers with Ivee. “Good evening, Ivee.” She lets out a little gasp. “Oh, dear.”

“What?” Ivee rushes.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Tell me.”

“You just have a little something right between your teeth.”

An indignant screech bursts from Ivee before she reins it in with tight lips. She slides off her stool and twirls toward the privy.

One problem solved. Now to deal with the next.

Ronan collects his pint from the table, drinking deeply while staring into the crowd, a blatant slight that doesn’t even sting. If I had my way, I’d never see the man again.

Still, I force my legs forward, erasing the gap between us. “Prince Ronan? I was wondering if I could have a word?”

He rolls his eyes like a child. That’s what he is. A spoiled little boy trapped inside a man’s body. “Go on then.”

What I have to say—what I must do—requires a little more privacy. “Could we go outside?”

With another eye roll, he carries his pint to the back door leading to the gardens but doesn’t bother holding it open for me after he steps through.

Unlike the first night he brought me out here, the sun is high, waiting to boil me alive. Ronan stops next to a bush laden with white hydrangea blooms and takes another drink, his foot tapping out his impatience.

The door opens once more, and the guards step through. Thankfully, they remain far enough away that they might not overhear.

Here goes nothing.

“I wanted to say that I am dreadfully sorry for what happened between us and for treating you so poorly.” That sounded sincere, didn’t it?