I cast a sharp glance at him. Ensmeth was tugging his hood back up, giving me a blistering glare, but now that I knew what I was looking for, I caught a glimpse of the script in his crown spelled out by jewels.
I took Fear’s arm and then the goblet he handed me. Ensmeth scuttled away as soon as I turned to Fear.
“No wonder ‘Fear’ is the fondest nickname anyone calls you.”
“Am I supposed to pretend I’m something other than what I am? Of course I hurt him. I had to watch him be a dick to you from a distance.”
“You’re a dick to me.”
“That’s entirely different.” He tugged me close, pressing a lying, fond kiss to my temple.
I turned to look at who was behind us, falling into a habit of watching our backs no matter that the dangers here were different. Standing intimately close with Fear like this felt natural, with his body towering over mine and the two of us twined together as a team.
But it shouldn’t.
A cheer went up across the room. When a few people cleared away, Kiegan was at the center; he gave a grumpy look around and didn’t acknowledge it. I grinned.
“You like that he’s being appreciated,” Fear noted.
“I like that he’s suffering.”
“Liar,” he said, his lips curling.
“Shush and dance with me.” I wanted a few bright, sparkling moments before whatever dark test the queen would concoct for me.
“I hope your marriage proposal one day is as sweet as all your other requests.” He took my flagon out of my hand, frowned at the still-full contents, and held it to my lips. I drank from his hand as he tilted it smoothly into my mouth; it was too deliciously easy to swallow down.
“Never.”
“That’s my line.”
An attentive satyr raised the tray to receive Fear’s flagons.
Then Fieran swept me into his arms, and he was every bit as perfect a dancer as I had feared.
I felt light and breathless in his arms. He guided me through the dance steps with such easy, commanding grace that it seemed as if I werefloating, spinning among the crowd. His arm flexed against my palm as he steered me through the dance.
Ander was dancing with Nixi. The two of them looked beautiful and perfect, but they stumbled over each other’s feet, laughing as their dance dissolved; I’d never seen Ander smile like that, in a bright flash.
“He knows how to dance,” Fieran murmured. His thumb brushed the small of my back in a lazy circle that sent heat licking up my spine.
But he couldn’t distract me. He and Ander knew each other so well and hated each other so well, which meant one of them must be twisted. “What happened between the two of you?”
“You would like to know why the friend I considered to be a brother despises me more than even Ensmeth does at the moment?” He sounded so light and amused by that hatred.
“You know, you don’t alwayshaveto lie and manipulate. You could tell me to wear the black dress. You could tell me the truth that might hurt your pride but doesn’t hurt your plans. I accept your other secrets.”
His lush lips parted in surprise. His hand on my hip was firm and sure, and he never missed a step. “Do you?”
“I accept the reasoning for keeping your plans from me, even though I despise it.”
He angled me closer, his breath brushing my cheek like a secret. “You know the answer, my Never-Wife.”
“Keep your secrets, if that’s the cost,” I told him, and he threw his head back and laughed, the sound unguarded and genuine.
When he laughed, I wanted to make him laugh again.
“Dance with Ander,” he told me. “Bullyhimfor a while.”
