She’d paid penance for it...and Arawn had avoided her ever since.
And, judging by the way she looked at him now...
Arawn bristled.
She still wanted him.
She always had.
“Dance with me, Crown Prince?” Zey asked.
He could smell winterwine on her breath, too sweet for his liking, as she pressed a hand to his chest. Right over his hard muscles, almost caressing him. “I should warn you, though...I like to movefast.”
He could feel the heat in her touch, her gaze, and though she waslovely,in a devastating way with her curves and her sensual smile...
He wanted no part of it. Nottonight.
Not ever.
“I...” He tried to look past her shoulder for a flash of a golden dress. “I’m afraid I don’t want to dance,” Arawn blurted the truth.
Zey giggled, her hand trailing down his bicep now. “But it’s Absolution, my dear Prince.Everyonewants to dance.”
“I suppose so,” he said, taking a step away. Perhaps the truth would set him free of her territorial gaze. So he swallowed, and added, “What I meant was...I don’t want to dance withyou.”
She sucked in a breath, rouged lips hanging open.
Gods be with me,Arawn prayed.
Penance would have been better than theicein her gaze. He swore she could have killed a man with that look alone, so he stepped away from her touch as quickly as he could, bidding her goodnight, before he turned.
He almost tripped over his own feet, for how fast he shoved his way back into the thick crowd.
He found Soraya and Kinlear near the wall of windows. Kinlear was seated in a chair, a drink already in his hand, but his mask was off. He looked pale, and weak, as if his illness were coming to haunt him.
And as Soraya turned, and knelt to speak to him...
Arawn’s whole body warmed.
Because, oh gods, thebackof the gown?
It was even better than the front. The fabric was sheer as it dipped as low as it could logically go to still keep her covered, and there were little shimmering beads that formed the shape of War Eagle wings.
She looked like a winged demigoddess from the old stories. Like the warriors that could onceflywithout the need for a godsmount at all.
And as she stood there before the glass, the waning daylight setting her skin on fire...he thought of how she’d looked when they made their Descent together.
How beautiful, how wild and free. It took him right back to that moment, when he thought the world could betheirssomeday...
And he remembered why he’d come here tonight in the first place.
It was not to appease his father, nor to be seen as a Crown Prince who still had faith enough to enjoy a bit of revelry in times of war...
No, if Arawn was really being honest with himself...he’d come here tonight to punish himself. To pay penance just by looking at her.
Because Soraya wasnothis, and she never would be, now that her hand belonged to Kinlear. Arawn paid just by beingnearher, every damned day.
Soraya was speaking in hushed whispers to Kinlear, leaning over with her delicate curls hanging to one side.
