‘It’s quite tedious, isn’t it?’ Aidon sighed as he appeared at Will’s shoulder.
‘The parties?’ he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. Aidon’s eyes were trained on the dance floor, not a trace of a smile on his face. Something was bothering the general.
‘Thank you,’ Aidon said instead. ‘For bringing her back. For realizing where she’d gone.’
‘I didn’t do it for you.’
‘I know.’ Aidon shrugged. ‘It doesn’t make me less grateful.’
Will pushed off the column and rolled his shoulders, his eyes following one of the waltzing couples. If he was going to be supportive, he supposed he could start now. ‘You two are good together.’ The words tasted bitter, but he managed to put enough lightness in them that they sounded sincere.
Aidon snorted. ‘That was entirely unbelievable. Care to try again?’ Will glared at the prince, but Aidon simply grinned,the gesture not quite meeting his eyes. ‘We aren’t going to get married in the name of getting an alliance, Will.’
It took a moment for the words to register – for him to cycle through his disbelief and frustration that he had to convincebothof them, godsdamn them – before hope, vicious hope, took root.
‘I’m making a choice,’ Aidon said. There was an earnestness in his gaze that kept Will silent, even as the prince looked away. An earnestness and something more; somethingpressing. It had Will frowning as Aidon added, ‘And it seems she’s made hers.’
He followed Aidon’s gaze, which was fixed on the staircase. There was Josie, looking resplendent in a gown of deep emerald green, a silver crown on her head. But Will couldn’t stop looking at the woman behind her.
‘I do recall you saying you preferred Aya in black,’ Aidon murmured.
He had. And he hadn’t seen her wearing the color since they’d arrived in Trahir. But tonight …
Tonight, she wore a gown of midnight black, the straps twined around her neck, the bodice plunging low between her breasts. The dress hugged her body, accenting every dip and hollow before pooling at her feet. Her long brown hair was pulled to one side and cascaded down her shoulder in loose curls. Kohl lined her eyes, while her lips were painted a deep, dark red.
She looked like dreams and nightmares and everything he’d ever wanted.
Will took a single step forward, his lips parted in awe. Aya scanned the ballroom, her blue eyes blazing as they found his. She lifted her chin, and he could read the challenge there; could see it written on her proud face as she stared him down.
‘For what it’s worth,’ Aidon said as he pressed a glass ofchampagne into Will’s hand, ‘I’m not fool enough to tinker with fate.’ Aidon clinked his glass against Will’s, his smile grim. ‘So … to fate.’
The prince walked away, not bothering to wait for Will’s response. Will’s eyes found Aya again, drawn to her like a magnet as he took a sip of champagne.
‘To fate.’
Aya wondered if this was what it felt like to burn slowly until there was nothing left. Because the way Will looked at her as she came down those stairs … it had set fire to her very blood, had melted away the music, the ballroom, the guests, until nothing else existed but the two of them.
And yet now she couldn’t find him. Josie had been surrounded by guests as soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs, and she’d stayed with her friend, knowing that this night would be long for her; that the wait for Viviane’s arrival tomorrow was slowing time for the princess.
Josie nudged her lightly. ‘He’ll seek you out,’ she muttered under her breath as she greeted another visitor.
‘You sure about that?’ Aya was sure she’d looked far more confident on those stairs than she felt.
‘I’m positive. We’ll make sure of it,’ she added with a sly grin.
‘What are you doing?’
Josie just looped her arm through her own and tugged her onto the dance floor, just as an upbeat tune started from the quartet. ‘We’re going to make sure he sees you. And that he can’t look away.’
And for once, Aya didn’t hesitate. She took her friend’s hands, letting the music sweep her away as she started to dance. This – this was what it felt like tofeel. To move out of the shadows and into the light. To live.
Will had made it five steps toward the throng of guests around their princess when Sion appeared at his arm, his face grave.
‘Cheer up, Sion, it’s a party,’ Will said by way of greeting. But the attendant didn’t so much as crack a smile. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘The king has requested your assistance, Prince,’ Sion muttered. Will scanned the ballroom. Dominic had just been here – hadn’t he? ‘He’s left for his study,’ Sion explained. Nearby, Peter was whispering in Aidon’s ear, the prince’s face grave. Aidon strode out of the ballroom without a backward glance, Peter following at his heels. ‘It’s Viviane’s party …’ Sion started. ‘They’ve been attacked.’
‘By who?’
