“You’re trying to get rid of me?” I demanded.
“How else will the two of you scheme about me?” Fear’s grip slid from my waist to my wrist, guiding me through a turn that felt dangerously intimate as he reeled me back in.
“You’re not that interesting.” I was breathless from the pace of the music—wild, uncontrolled Fae music, like being caught in a storm—and not from him. “We don’t talk about you behind your back.”
“Lies all around.” He might be trying to pawn me off onto another man, but as the music softened, his body told another story; he wrappedhis arm around my waist, drawing me closer. I let my hands slip up his biceps to rest on his shoulders, and our dancing slowed.
My fingers curled in his shirt, by instinct more than thought. His gaze softened the second before his lips brushed mine in a soft, claiming sweep. I pressed myself to his heat, even though I knew better.
Slowly, it came to me that I was a mortal kissing the kingdom’s dragon prince in front of the entire Fae court, and that might be taking the ruse about three steps too far. I pulled away, ready to question him—because he knew what he was doing—but he caught my lips with steady insistence. Withneed.
“May I have this dance?” Ander’s voice was icy.
I pulled away from Fear with effort. This time, he let me go, his lips quirking at my rattled tone as I blurted out, “Certainly. He doesn’t deserve me.”
Ander stood with a hand outstretched to me, tall and fierce in his uniform. His jaw flexed as his gaze tracked Fear’s hand still lingering on my arm.
“Finally, you tell one truth to go with your two lies.” Fieran looked amused, and I raised my eyebrows at him, wondering if he had kissed me to draw Ander.
Ander held his arms out to me, and I stepped into them. He kept me at a distance, with his hand on my hip and enough space for Nixi to fit between us. I needed the opportunity to cool my mind down after Fear’s fever-hot touch, so I appreciated the space and the calm, competent way he guided us through the dance.
Ander’s gaze slid over my shoulder, and I knew who he was watching.
“Were you and Fear lovers?” I asked casually.
He turned to me with full attention. “No.”
“You seemed as if you might be jealous.”
“Gods,” he muttered. “If you’re going to insult me so freely, I’m going to admit I’m dancing with you because I despise Fieran.”
I laughed. “I know. But I still like dancing with you.”
Still, I wasn’t entirely sure that was the only reason Ander was dancing with me. There was something protective but wary in his gazewhen he looked at me. As if he were judging the cost of interfering in the dark plans being spun for me.
He shook his head. “Maybe youcanbe what Fear deserves.”
That seemed as if it would be painful for both of us.
“And what does Fear deserve?”
“Not your kiss.” His answer was swift and arch.
“I know that.”
“Do you?” He spun me out, and I twirled under his arm—too easily, given how much smaller I was than all the Fae. “Then why are you kissing him? His lips don’t seem like they should be too hard to avoid if that was your intent.”
“I needed a distraction from what else is coming.”
“Because tonight, you’re the most famous mortal in the capital?”
Before I could respond, a servant—a mortal one this time, eyes glazed and distant, his hair perfectly coiffed and white uniform resplendent—stepped in to raise a hand to us both. “Lord Ander, the queen requests an audience.”
Ander stiffened in a heartbeat, angling himself forward between the servant and me as his hands slipped off my waist. As if he could be a quiet shield between me and whatever came next.
“At once.” And no matter how much he might hate Fieran, his gaze still rose beyond me, sweeping the crowd for him, as if he were handing off my safety. Then he was gone, without a backward glance at me.
A casual observer—and I was sure there were many watching us—might have seen it as a snub, as Ander cast me away the second the queen beckoned.
