They walked off, and Valen stared after Aurea with a pained expression. I wished I’d pushed harder to find out what had happened between them. Was Aurea the spiteful type? Did she want to ruin our relationship with her warning? Or was she honestly trying to help me? The real Valen was nothing like the empty-headed charmer he played at parties, after all. He acted the part so well that I doubted anyone but Drudon could suspect he’d come here tonight to steal the Selenian Jewel. Was that what Aurea meant?
Or did she know something I didn’t?
Valen turned to me, but the sadness didn’t leave his eyes. If anything, it seemed even more pronounced as he looked me over.
“Shall we dance?” he asked.
Chapter 30
Emmeline
Valen’s hand settled at my waist, warm and firm through the fabric of my gown. I placed my fingers on his shoulder, maintaining the formal distance required by the Danse de Lune while a voice inside me screamed that any distance was too little—or perhaps too much. His amber eyes, looking almost golden in the glittering light, searched mine as the orchestra struck the first haunting notes.
And so we began our dance across the mirrored floor, our reflections executing identical steps below us, like shadow selves in some parallel world. Each turn brought us closer to Princess Regula and the jewel that was our target. Each step carried the weight of Aurea’s warning.
Valen guided me through a complex turn, his movements precise and assured. Of course they were—he was an expertat this, at blending in and deceiving. Just as I was. We were creatures of false faces, he and I. Our entire relationship was built on a lie.
“So that was Aurea,” I said.
The subtle tightening of his fingers on my waist betrayed his calm expression. “Yes.”
“You never told me why you broke off your betrothal.”
Something flickered in his eyes—pain or anger, I couldn’t tell. “Not now, Emmeline.”
I fought down a snarky reply. He was right. We had an audience, and an argument would bring the exact attention we wanted to avoid.
“What did the two of you talk about?” he asked.
“Cheese,” I said flatly.
We moved in silence through the next phase of the dance, his body guiding mine effortlessly, our physical harmony a cruel mockery of the discord beneath.
“I’m not a good person,” he said, voice almost too low to hear over the music. “Aurea finally realized that.”
Was that supposed to explain things? He was so damned vague sometimes.
“So what?” I asked. “Hardly anyone’s a good person. I’m not.”
His eyes crinkled as a warm smile touched his lips. “You did what you needed to survive, to keep your mother alive. You’re one of the best people I know.”
I nearly ducked my head, embarrassed and pleased by the compliment, but remembered our audience. If we could have this conversation literally anywhere but at a ball on the night of the heist…
“Aurea told me you were dangerous,” I confessed in a whisper. “Warned me to be careful.”
His face turned into an emotionless mask. “That was kindhearted of her.”
Was it? I felt dizzy, and it wasn’t because of all the spins in the dance. Had Aurea honestly meant what she’d said? Had Valen? I’d thought I could trust him, at least to a certain extent, but…
He guided me into a spin that momentarily separated us. When he pulled me back, the formal distance vanished. He pulled me close to him, clutching me like he feared I’d run off and disappear. His clean scent enveloped me, and my body buzzed with energy at his touch. Neither of us missed a step; we’d practiced too much for that. But it felt less like a dance and more like a last embrace.
“What is it?” I hissed. “Is Drudon watching?”
“No.”
His voice was rough, his face inches away, and for a second, I thought he would kiss me. But then the dance reached its end.
As the final notes echoed through the vast chamber, he bowed, and I curtsied, a perfect performance for our audience. Then he offered his arm to escort me from the dance floor. His face betrayed nothing, but everything felt faintly wrong, as if the entire ballroom had tilted an inch to one side.
