Well, this is going to be fun.
Isolde gets straight to the point unaware of how just seeing her makes my blood boil, “Princess, after the midnight ceremony, you will attend a reception to celebrate the coronation and your bond.”
Cilian’s jaw ticks.
“The Elite and your family and friends will attend. You, as the new queen, will do a first dance with King Caspien, the first of many you will do together as a mated couple. Obviously, the divine bond will be in place. Everyone will know you are blissfully happy.” An edge of sarcasm tinges the words. “The dance is more proof of this.”
A crease forms between my eyebrows. I may not believe the bond will be there, and from what she said last night I’m not surprised that she agrees. But I am shocked that she is being so obvious about it.
“Caspien is unfortunately unable to attend today, but Cillian generously offered to step in.”Couldn’t attend or she told him not to attend?
Cillian says nothing. Isolde cuts him a tight-lipped look of irritation before leaving, handing the floor over to the dance instructor.
The instructor quickly goes over a handful of steps for my benefit and then steps to the side. A steady rhythm fills the room, and Cillian and I step up to one another. The air crackles between us with tension, and the wind catches in my throat. The stubborn part of my personality wants to punish him for thinking the worst of me. But looking up into those stone-cold blue eyes that refuse to meet mine, I know I won’t be able to.
We are frozen, just leafs apart, but neither of us makes a move to touch. The music dies in my ears, and the instructor is suddenly next to us.
“Oh Goddess! I didn’t realize you didn’t know the starting position.” He tries to sound encouraging, but it comes out with a tinge of annoyance. He thinks I’m a clueless idiot.
I may not be great at dancing, but I do know the starting stance.
The instructor reaches down between us to take my hand. With unnatural speed, his wrist is in Cillian’s grasp.
“Don’t touch her.” His deadly tone, a low and hard warning, fills the little space between us. I swear I hear the instructor’s bones crunch in Cillian’s white-knuckled grip.
Shock and pain apparent, the instructor tries to pull away. “I-I… yes, of course. I wasn’t thinking,” he stutters as he’s finally released from Cillian’s death grip.
I feel bad for him, but the shock has me remaining quiet.
“My apologies, Princess. If I could just explain-”
“She knows. And if she doesn’t…” Cillian says cooly as his blue eyes finally set on me. “I’ll show her.” My magic shivering in response to his intensity.
The instructor nearly sprints away as Cillian holds his hand out to me.
I slowly lift my hand to his. He wraps his other arm around my waist but his body remains stiff. He keeps distance between our bodies as we move into the steps. Every point of contact tingles with the magic running through my blood trying to break through. It’s different from earlier in Caspien’s room. With Caspien, I just felt… nervous. And there was that niggling voice of warning in my head. This feels natural—safe—despite me being in the arms of a male who is clearly livid.
“I don’t think the instructor was a threat,” I say, tone light, hoping humor will break the tension.
Cillian’s eyes remain trained over my head. He easily moves through the dance steps as we go a few more beats. Whereas I continue to stumble multiple times.
The feeling of Cillian’s simmering anger wraps around us with each step and turn, despite his look of indifference. The intensity, not helping with my nerves.
“I went to talk to Caspien,” I say as we continue through the disaster of a dance.
“His idea?” He grunts, his jaw still locked into place.
“Mine.”
He offers me no response. His hand on my back fists the fabric of my dress, and we move into a turn. When I stumble, I hiss out his name, and he finally looks down at me.
“All we did was talk, then I left,” I blurt out, “For some insane reason, I thought he was going to kiss me so I turned my head. That’s all you saw. I didn’t spend the night with him.”
He releases the wind in his chest in a slow frustrated breath, and glances down at me for only a second. “I believe you.”
I begin running my thumb up and down a tensed tendon at the back of his neck. I feel his muscles begin to relax under my touch. A blush creeps up my cheeks as thoughts run through my head that are anything but appropriate.
He uses his grip on my dress to pull me a fraction of a step closer. His breathing picks up too. “What could you have possibly been talking about so early?” His words come out strained.
