“Princess?”
“I don’t feel well,” I murmured. “Will you escort me back to my rooms?” It would be a good opportunity to question him.
He glanced toward the dais, and I followed his gaze. Grandfather was watching us, interest flickering in his eyes.
“If you know what’s good for you, you will stay,” Pischiel murmured, his voice so low I almost couldn’t hear his words.
“What’s good for me?” Something itched in my mind, the feeling that I’d lost something dear.
“Danica. Danica. Danica.”
That low voice in my mind wasn’t mine. I tensed, and Pischiel studied my face. The corner of his mouth twitched, but his eyes hardened as he gulped at the remainder of his drink.
“I think your grandfather would prefer for you to stay. You want to be named hisambassador, don’t you?”
Fury burned in my stomach. “Is that what this is about? The reason you abandoned me on the dance floor? You’re feeling threatened because I might be named ambassador?”
He laughed, and it was so bitter I almost flinched.
“Forget it,” I snapped, turning to stalk away.
A strong hand caught mine and swept me onto the dance floor. Given how much I’d watched him drink, I was surprised by how coordinated Pischiel was.
“You don’t seem pleased to be dancing with me.”
He stroked my hair back from my face. “Maybe because it’s all a lie. I thought I’d be content with it, but it turns out a man like me can feel guilt and regret after all.”
Was he slurring his words? He was obviously incapacitated, and if my grandfather realized just how much he’d drunk, he would be…displeased. The thought made my heart pound in my chest, and I tightened my hold on Pischiel’s hand.
“You need to get your shit together,” I hissed.
His eyes widened, and he froze. I clamped my hand over my mouth. I had no idea where that had come from.
“Well, there’s another hint of the real Danica. Take my advice, princess, you need to stop allowing your grandfather to see it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know you don’t. And if you don’t keep the real Danica hidden, you’ll only hasten your doom.”
“You’re drunk.”
He laughed bitterly. “If only.”
Whispers sounded, and I turned my head as courtiers cleared a path for my grandfather. He sauntered toward us, handsome and regal in his cloak and crown.
“Be very careful,” Pischiel warned, his hands sliding away from me. He bowed to Lucifer and took several steps back.
“I find I miss our dancing.” Grandfather’s voice was full of good humor. I smiled up at him as he took me in his arms, and the music started once more.
“So do I.”
“Do you?” grandfather’s eyes were intent. As if he could see straight into my soul. I resisted the urge to pull my earrings out of my ears as they irritated my lobes again. Grandfather didn’t appreciate it when I fidgeted in front of him.
“Of course,” I smiled brightly. “I remember how you used to let me stand on your feet while you danced around the ballroom. You’re the reason I love to dance.”
His eyes—the color so like mine—crinkled at the corners as he lifted his hand to twirl me. I caught sight of Pischiel, once again leaning against the wall, his face pale.
Courtiers twirled and laughed as the dance picked up tempo. I knew the steps, but I still found I had to concentrate—especially in my heels. Grandfather had insisted on black marble for the floor, which made it slippery. Grandfather and I both matched the decor—both of us in the darkest black—while the rest of the court wore dark jewel tones, this season’s fashion.
