Cora’s eyes slid to the duke’s, taking in his smug grin. She remembered what he’d said in the coach after she’d mentioned how loyal he was to her brother.
Or does he serve me in every way?
“I don’t like how grim the mood has become,” Dimetreus said. “This is supposed to be a celebration. A joyous reunion. I’ve missed you dearly, Aveline.” He faced her with a wide grin. There was a sweet quality to his expression that almost made him look like the version of him she remembered. But the closer she examined, the more she saw his facade fraying at the edges. His eyes were glazed over with a shimmer that nearly obscured the brown of his irises. She opened herself to his emotions, sensed a low hum of something…muffled. Suppressed. Confused. She could hardly make out a clear emotion, just a clash of vague impressions.
“I’ve missed you too,” she said over the lump in her throat.
He clapped his hands, the sound far too loud for the quiet room. “I want to see my sister dance.” Cora opened her mouth to protest, but Dimetreus shouted to the harpist, “A waltz.”
“Dimi, please,” she said, heat rising to her cheeks. “I can’t. It’s been too long.”
“I insist,” he said, oblivious to her discomfort.
“But—”
“Do not deny His Majesty,” Morkai said. “You wouldn’t want to upset him. Who knows what it could do. He might wake up and forget you were ever here.”
Dimetreus chuckled. “I would do something like that, wouldn’t I?”
Cora knew full well Morkai’s words had been said in threat. If the duke wanted, he could make Dimetreus forget she’d come back. He could turn her back from princess to prisoner.
“Go, sister,” the king said, gesturing at the floor before the dais. “Who will dance with her?”
Morkai stood easily from his chair.
But another voice spoke first. “Might I have this dance?” Teryn rose to his feet in a rush, sending his chair legs scraping against the stone floor.
Cora looked from one man to the other. Either way, she’d have to dance with an enemy. The decision, however, wasn’t hard to make. She hated the thought of dancing with Teryn, but letting Morkai put his hands anywhere near her was far more repulsive. It didn’t matter that he looked hardly older than Teryn. She’d rather die than dance with him.
Lifting her chin, she met Teryn’s gaze with a glare. She spoke through her teeth. “Yes, Prince Teryn. I’d be honored to dance.”
36
Cora’s eyes locked with Teryn’s as they left the dais on opposite sides of the table. His expression was neutral, unreadable, while hers was burning with malice. She felt as if she were meeting him for a duel rather than a dance. They met at the center of the floor, and Teryn gave a stiff bow. She offered an even stiffer curtsy. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest as the harpist began to play. Teryn stepped in close. He held one hand out to the side while the other came to her back. She stifled a gasp. Then, deepening her glare, she alighted one palm on his shoulder and draped the other over his waiting hand. She was grateful for the dinner gloves they both wore, creating barriers between their flesh. Even so, she could still feel the heat of his skin beneath them.
Teryn began to move. She stumbled, and her animosity was replaced with a flash of panic. While she’d been trained as a child in every sort of formal dance, she’d never been old enough to dance with a partner a public manner. Besides, her lessons had been years ago.
Her breaths came short and sharp as she tried to keep up with Teryn. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before her feet seemed to remember what to do. Teryn must have foreseen that her dance skills would leave much to be desired, for she soon noted that they were moving far slower than the harpist’s tempo. Teryn had probably enjoyed plenty of balls with plenty of capable partners, and yet he was keeping their waltz slow. Simple. For her sake.
It only enraged her more.
She lifted her eyes, realizing they’d fallen to her feet. It nearly made her lose her newly found rhythm when she took in just how close he was. They’d been this near before, primarily at knifepoint or perhaps when she’d hid them under the tree. But this, somehow, was different. She tried to keep her attention on the lower half of his face, noting how the bruising had faded from his nose, leaving only a slight yellow tinge where she’d once broken it. Then, against her will, her gaze inched up higher and higher until she met his eyes. For the first time, she noticed the emerald hue of his irises, a stunning shade even in the dim lamplight. They were turned down at the corners, brimming with unspoken apology that echoed the heavy waves of regret she sensed from him. She averted her gaze over his shoulder and raised her shields.
“Aveline,” he whispered, his voice a deep rumble between them. It made her pulse quicken to hear him use her true name.
“Don’t call me that,” she muttered back.
He sighed. “Cora. Please believe me when I say I’m so sorry.”
He led them into a turn, and she caught sight of the table. Her brother watched with a sappy expression while Morkai’s stare was dark. Assessing. Lex, at the other end of the table, simply downed his wine and poured another glass. Teryn turned them again, leading her away from the table toward the unlit end of the dining hall.
“If I were armed, I’d kill you right now,” she said through her teeth.
“I know.”
She returned her gaze to his. “You think an apology is enough? What are you sorry for, anyway? That you’ve seen me in a dress, heard me calledprincess, and now realize you should respect me?”
His expression hardened. “I respected you the moment you held a knife to my throat. This was never about a lack of respect.”
