“I have heard whispering of a misplaced bag of Platasia, but it is a rumor,” Sebastian replies, leading me into a waltz.
I suddenly put two and two together— the money Wrath accidentally gave me. He blamed his blunder on the duke, refusing to take responsibility for the lost bag of coins. Perhaps he does not like House Horne or value their allegiance.
Without replying, I step forward and allow Sebastian to spin me before returning to his arms. I know this dance. I’ve practiced it with Margaret so much that every step lives in my muscles. I did not think the North and South would share the same traditional dances, but I am relieved to be able to follow along. My dress swishes at my ankles with each move, precise yet effortless.
I focus on the music, counting the beats in my mind to keep time so I don’t distract myself with all the gawking from the crowd. I step away, twirl, and reach out my left hand for him to take. Sebastian grabs it with his right hand, and we move inopposite directions as we circle one another, weaving between the other dancers. We return to each other's arms. I feel Sebastian pull me toward him, closing the space between our bodies. He leads me effortlessly through the dance, the two of us in perfect sync, rising and falling like the rhythm of ocean waves.
“You’re an excellent dancer, Princess.”
“So are you, Your Grace.” I smile as we dance, and my gaze darts between his eyes and lips, exactly as Kaia told me to do.
Sebastian must sense my feigned desire, because he grips my waist even more tightly as we dance. Although he is wearing gloves, I can feel the searing heat of his touch on my skin. Lifting my hand, Sebastian pulls me to him as the music draws to a close and dips me in a graceful arc. Rising, I spin one last time and step back, bowing in a low curtsy. Sebastian places a gloved hand across his chest and bows to me in return. Smiling, I offer my hand to him once more and allow him to lead me off the dance floor.
Every pair of eyes is on me.
“Now we’ve definitely caught attention,” I whisper.
“Focus on me,” he replies. “No one else matters.”
“Sebastian.” A voice cuts in.
Stopping, we turn as a tall man with short red hair and pointed ears approaches us. He has sharp features with angled cheekbones and precise brows. His blue eyes fix on us with a piercing gaze, sharp and unyielding.
“Alec.” He gives a slight bow of his head. “Raelys, this is Duke Alec Wulfstan of Salasyr.”
I curtsy as well, following Sebastian’s lead. “Your Grace.”
Is this Lydia’s husband? I glance down at his left hand to see a wedding band around his ring finger, then quickly return my attention to him. I desperately want to ask, but I know this likely isn’t the right time.
“Lady Raelys.” Alec places a hand on his chest and bows his head.
“I heard you got married recently,” Sebastian says, flowing effortlessly through the appeasement of socialization. “Is she in attendance tonight?”
Alec shakes his head. “She has come down with some bouts of morning flu. If she is with child, I have no wish to make her travel.”
Sebastian gives him a dazzling smile. “That’s excellent news. I’m delighted at the potential expansion of your family.”
Lydia is pregnant? So soon?About three months have passed since I made my deal with Wrath, and my father shipped me off to Avelisar. Her duty as my lady-in-waiting is complete, leaving her to find a marriage of her own.
“Thank you,” Alec says graciously. “Are you traveling back to Rykaris shortly?”
“I recently returned,” Sebastian replies. “Is there something I can assist you with?”
“Tell your king he’s got a deal.” Alec’s tone is cold. “Salasyr has had enough of this current regime.”
“Of course.” Sebastian nods. “I send my correspondence every first day, but if you prefer things not to be in writing, I can send a messenger.”
“A messenger is preferred,” Alec replies. “If you have time, I’d also like to ask you how you collect tax on the…” his voice fades into nothingness as their small talk continues.
I feel a gaze on me. Without turning, I know who it belongs to—that fierce, unmistakable presence presses against me like a held breath. It prickles down the back of my neck, making it difficult to focus on the conversation.
I relent.
Glancing at the source of the tension, I lock eyes with the person who burns through my restraint in seconds.Wrath.Helooks at me as if I am his every desire, the air pulling taut between us. It makes the vast space of the ballroom constrict tighter than the corset caging my lungs.
The only color in his black ensemble is a streak of sapphire in his vest. Every hair, thread, and button is in place. I expect no less from him. Perfectly pristine. Unfairly unblemished. Breathtakingly beautiful. He is the embodiment of brilliance itself.
It’s the first time I’ve seen a crown on his head, the thick spires a symbol of sovereignty and dominance that suit him far too well. It is a reminder of who he is, a king whose force shapes the fate of the realm at every turn. I have gotten far too comfortable, too complacent with allowing him into my battlements.
