“Of course!” Aristoph leaned in like he was revealing a major secret. “I’m going to marry Lurena Ithelion, you know.”
Of course I knew. Everyone knew. It was the talk of the Court.
“She’s not in the direct line of succession,” I said. “The crown prince—”
”—is still moping over that dead woman who helped him defeat the Netherworld.“ Aristoph flapped a hand in my face like he could knock my words from the air. “And the queen is too much of a romantic to force him into an arranged marriage. You mark my words—” He hiccupped. “The crown will come to me when he croaks. Or one of my children if he outlives me.”
Drudon’s face had paled, and he tugged on Aristoph’s arm. “Come on. You need a refill.”
Aristoph shook him off, not done imparting his wisdom yet. “And we’ll be conquering Earth. Oh, the queen’s against it, but Princess Regula is much more sensible. Just you wait.” He waved his arms grandly, spilling the rest of his wine. “It’s going to be amazing.”
“Aristoph,” Drudon growled.
Aristoph lifted his empty glass to his mouth and then blinked at it. “Drudon, I’m out of wine.”
“Yes.” Drudon pulled him away without resistance. “Let’s go get more.”
I glared at their retreating backs as they wove through the crowd. So House Undarvue thought they could seize the throne with Aristoph’s marriage. They were even more ambitious than I’d thought. Had that been part of their discussions with Regula when negotiating her daughter’s hand in marriage?
It didn’t seem like one of Regula’s schemes, though. The princess wanted the throne for herself. She wouldn’t be satisfied with waiting for it to pass to her descendants. She’d kill her daughter herself if it would help her overthrow Queen Verena.
Emmeline took my hand, shaking me out of my dark thoughts. She dabbed a cloth handkerchief to the cuts my shattered wineglass had inflicted.
“It looks worse than it is,” I assured her, as red blood stained the white cloth.
She gently turned my hand over to examine the injury. Her touch felt impossibly soft, and I admired her long, nimble fingers—ideal for pick-pocketing. With her thumb and forefinger, she gripped a shard still embedded in my skin and deftly removed it.
A worried frown tugged at her face. “You need soap and water. It doesn’t look like much, but I’ve seen cuts like this get infected before.”
Her concern made warmth blossom in my chest. I wasn’t sure she gave a damn about me. Sometimes she seemed to care, but on other days I thought she’d love to attack me with a broken wineglass herself.
“I’ll take care of it at home.” I didn’t pull my hand from hers, savoring the contact for a little longer. “Let a healing crystal sit in water for a few hours, and that’ll wash away any infection.”
She carefully tied the cloth around my hand as a makeshift bandage. Before she could pull her hand away, I brought it to my lips and placed a soft kiss atop it.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Her gaze lingered on my lips, and she swallowed. Then she made a scoffing sound and looked away.
“I didn’t spend three weeks practicing curtsies just for you to die from an infected cut.”
“Yes, I’d hate to inconvenience you.”
Her scowl turned to a smile as she looked back at me. “Liar. You love to inconvenience me.”
I grinned.
“Sir Valen!” called the master of the hunt as he approached us.
Cursing the interruption, I greeted him and smoothly introduced Emmeline.
We mingled with various guests for the next half hour, and I kept at least twenty feet between us and Drudon. Other than my brother’s vile presence, everything went exactly as planned. Most everyone had already heard of my relationship with Emmeline (thank you, Amatien and Ishaq) and acted delighted to meet her. They wouldn’t think anything of my escorting her to the ball, which was exactly what I wanted.
“And you really ran off together in the night?” Felina asked despondently.
We were chatting with her and Florina, neither of whom could quite hide their disappointment that another woman had snagged me.
“I didn’t want to face her father’s wrath,” I said. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
