Had no one ever taught him? Had no one cared to?
“Aldric…” she whispered, angling her body to obscure the sight of him from the rest of the room. She didn’t know why she cared. Still, she tried to spare him from their judgmental stares.
The man lifted his gaze to her, his features hard, his single eye cold.
She wet her suddenly too-dry lips, wavering further in the face of his clear disdain for her. “We do not have to do this—”
He was on his feet in the next moment, his hand laying claim to hers before she could even think to twitch away. His grip was strong. Warm. And brought no hint of strange cold or voices.
“Do not,” he snarled under his breath while carefully stepping down from the dais and taking her with him, “pityme, woman.”
Irritation caught flame within her heart, swiftly devouring what small sympathy she had felt for this angry man mere moments before. Why did she bother trying to be nice to him? No good ever came of it. “Kindness is not pity,” she bit out around her brittle smile as he led her deeper into the crowd.
Her courtiers parted around them like water against the prow of a ship. She was glad the Duke of Coreto wasn’t here to witness this. Nor Lord Tiberius.
Another small comfort.
An awkward silence descended between the two of them as Aldric shifted his grip on her—passing her right hand into the clasp of his so that her arm now crossed his body as they stood side by side—and started them off into the steps of a slow promenade. A fairly simple dance, but a dance nonetheless. She made an effort to mask her surprise.
She supposed he hadn’t been lying.
His left hand rose to cradle her elbow as they swept about the dance floor together. Three steps forward. A pause. A step to the side. And back together again.
For such a rough, hard man, his touch on her was gentle. For all that he was clearly angry with her again about something, he held his tongue. And after a few more moments, the silence between them tempered itself into something almost…comfortable.
Her anxiety quieted. Her worry stilled.
Were she more awake, she would have laughed at herself for once again finding comfort in such close quarters with a murderer. But right now, she was simply too tired to care.
Therewassomething oddly comforting about being with the Crow. Though she would deny it aloud to her dying breath, she could no longer deny it to herself.
Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he could not loom over her and try to intimidate her with his height as so many men were wont to do.
Or perhaps it was the fact that even though he had great strength, he never wielded it against her.Aside from that time he tried to smother you in your bed, she dryly reminded herself. But now, he did not seek to bruise her as his brother had when they had danced together on Nerina Reef. He just…held her and waited for her to come to him.
Or perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he always seemed so honest with her, even when he was merely spitting abuse. He did not seek to flatter her as so many others did. He simply said what he was thinking.
…Or perhaps she truly was going mad.
That seemed like the most logical conclusion.
Suddenly, Aldric broke the silence between them. “What is next on the itinerary, wife?”
His deep voice rumbled through her with that question, the words vibrating straight into her chest. Unruly and traitorous organ that it was, her heart fluttered in reply.
She ignored it. “We will mingle for a time, and then we shall retire for the evening.” The very mention of the wordeveningwas all it took to remind her of the horrible truth she had learned just the night before: what her Crow liked to do with his evenings.
Her heart stopped its erratic beating at once.
Unable to keep a cold edge from seeping into her voice, she added, “After which, there will be no need to see one another again until the next war council meeting.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his lips twitch—whether into a fleeting smile or a grimace, she couldn’t tell. His features soon smoothed. He said nothing.
But he didn’t have to say anything for her to be able to guess what he was thinking.
“You still do not agree with my plans for Arlund?” She kept her voice low, her words meant for him and him alone.
“No,” he growled, distaste dripping off that single syllable. “I do not.”
