My focus lasted maybe a minute before I snuck another glance at Valen. His brown hair gleamed in the lantern light, and his smile, though fake, was more dazzling than the stars. My gaze lingered on the stubble on his face, drifted down his neck, and drank in the surcoat stretched tight across his broad chest. He really was painfully handsome.
Good looks were meaningless; all that mattered were his actions. But still, I could appreciate the aesthetics of his appearance.
The dance ended, and I quickly tore my gaze from him. Everyone was applauding the musicians, so I clapped, too.Act normal, I thought. But if I was pretending to be his lover, then making sheep’s eyes at himwasnormal.
It’s pretend, I told myself.Don’t shoot him lovesick glances for real.
The musicians started their next song, and I fought the urge to run away. I could tell Valen I felt sick. We could practice another night.
But no. I needed to play Valen’s game until I could get back home to my mother. That meant dancing with the man who had trapped me here.
The dance began. Valen and I circled each other in time with the music, coming together briefly and then breaking apart. His amber eyes locked onto me—watching to see if I made a mistake, of course. It couldn’t be for any other reason.
Barely a foot apart, we faced each other and mirrored one another’s steps. His eyes held mine like a spell I couldn’t break, and my chest tightened. It was hard to breathe with him lookingat me like that. Then his left hand took mine, and we slowly revolved, gazes never leaving each other’s faces.
We had to look at each other, damn it. It was part of the dance. But it hadn’t felt so intense when we’d practiced this morning. What was different now? The starlight? I would blame the wine, but I hadn’t drunk any. Was it the music? The musicians were better than any minstrels I’d ever heard on Earth. Were they putting this feeling into my chest?
The tempo increased, and I almost groaned. Now came the shameless strutting about. Valen’s turn came first, thankfully. I got to stand still while he made a slow, sensual turn in front of me. God and Goddess, this dance was flirtatious. If it ever made its way to Thallence, it would be banned.
Valen took deliberate steps around me. The other dancers looked like prancing peacocks, but he reminded me of a wolf. Which made me a rabbit or something. Maybe a deer.
He completed his circle and stopped in front of me, and oh joy, it was my turn.
I twirled, adding a little shake to my hips that I’d copied from another dancer. Heat rose within me at Valen’s stare—which was from embarrassment. Definitely embarrassment and no other reason. I sashayed around him, feeling lightheaded by the time I made it back to where I’d started.
Then we clasped hands and moved together, close enough for me to feel his body heat. He felt so warm, which was ironic as hell, because he was the coldest bastard I’d ever met. And yet…
By the time the dance ended, my leg muscles felt like mushy porridge, and my hands were shaking. It had only been two dances. Sprinting across an entire city didn’t wear me out this much.
I shoved strands of sweaty hair back from my face. “Can we take a break?”
“No. They just started playing the Blue Rose. You need to learn it.”
Oh, good. He was still a demanding asshole. For a moment there, I’d been worried.
I took his hand, and we danced again.
***
Everything returned to normal the next day. Valen drilled me on courtly etiquette, and when we practiced more dancing in the chateau, it was incredibly dull. I must have imagined the look in Valen’s eyes that night, because now he only looked at me like a tool.
And that was good. It ended whatever delusion had overtaken me in the night air. I’d projected feelings onto Valen because I was lonely. I’d never had friends, and while the nicer women in the brothel would chat with me, I couldn’t trust them with my secrets. But I’d always had my mother, and I missed her terribly. I wanted to complain to her about Valen’s strictness, laugh with her at the courtier’s ridiculous outfits, and share the phenomenal food. Most of all, I wanted to tell her that I was all right.
The second day after the dance, a man arrived at the chateau and handed Valen a small wooden box. They conversed in low tones, too low for me to overhear. Then the man left, and Valen motioned for me to come closer.
I eyed the box curiously, and he opened it. Inside, resting on a velvety cushion, was a small stone. Deep blue and marbled with white, it wasn’t sapphire, turquoise, or any gemstone I recognized.
“I’m guessing this isn’t the Selenian Jewel?” I asked.
His mouth twitched. “It’s a messenger stone. Hold it in your hands—you’ll know it’s activated when you feel it heat up. Thenspeak your message. The next person to touch the stone will hear your words.”
My gaze jerked from the stone to his face, searching for any sign of emotion in that stony visage. He couldn’t mean…
“Use it to assure your mother that you’re safe,” he said. “The man waiting outside will bring it to her. He’s a courier, knows Earth, and is very discreet.”
“I…”
My throat felt scratchy. This was perfect—bizarre, but perfect. Hearing my voice would calm my mother’s worries a lot.
