“You danced the night of your induction,” he retorts without missing a beat.
I’m reminded of Fenryn’s earlier words.
Lilith keeps no secrets.
“And what a mess that was,” Eve chirps over her shoulder, earning herself a scathing glare from me. “She’ll step on your toes.”
“Intentionally, I’m sure,” Ryc quips in return, and I give him the same look. He counters with a grin. “I’ll make sure Drunina is at the ready to mend my broken bones.”
“There’s a difference betweenI don’t danceandI can’t dance,” Cyran says and both Eve and Ryc laugh. “Perhaps Lady Ves lies somewhere in between.”
Is Cyran…teasingme?
The ever-stoic, hardly moved, unsmiling fae?
No.
Possession. He has to be possessed.
“Are you feeling ill, Cyran?” I ask, trying not to sound concerned.
“I’m quite well, thank you, Lady Ves,” he answers in his usual manner.
“Take joy where you can find it, Ves,” Eve says as I pass her and my head whirls over my shoulder.
She and Cyran vanish as the crowd surges back into place between us, lost in the sea of colors and faces. Ryc picks up his pace, looking utterly foolish with that impish grin on his face as he continues to backpedal through the crowd. People take notice, stepping aside with wide eyes that quickly become smiles and laughter.
Nearing the edge of the dancing crowd, Ryc stops, pulling me against him.
“Dance with me,” he says again, his voice low as he wraps an arm around my waist, my hand firmly clasped in his other.
My free hand finds its way to his chest as I stare up at him, wide-eyed, waiting with a held breath. He’s going to sweep my stumbling self off at any second and we’re both going to be a ridiculous sight.
Already my cheeks heat with the thought of the debacle.
But we remain motionless.
“I don’t know this dance,” I offer meagerly along with a helpless shrug.
“Then I shall teach you,” he replies. “It’s easier than you think.”
I glance around.
Couples twirl and move with such fluidity it’s enviable. Humans and fae alike. So many colorful pairings and smiling faces. We stand along the edge of the hypnotizing dancers, those stopping to watch gathered a small distance behind me.
“Ignore them,” Ryc says, drawing my face back to his by my chin. “This,” he swings a hand between us, gesturing at the space between us, “is what matters.”
I stammer.
So many eyes on my skin.
My pounding heart doesn’t slow.
“Do you trust me?” he asks as he steps forward, forcing me to step back else I lose balance.
“With my life,” I reply, the words breathy, and he takes another step, coaxing me to follow.
“Well, that’s a relief,” he muses, turning me away from the dancers in a graceful swing. His arm around my waist keeps me close. “I don’t know what I would have done if you said no.”
