“At last, Princess,the time has come for me to rescue you from the rest of these toe-crushers.”
I breathe a gusting sigh as Lord Elis’s hand closes around mine. He spins me in a flurry of skirts back out into the center of the floor. Gods above, I want nothing more than a breather and two minutes alone at that banquet table! The smells wafting from the far side of the room are growing more tempting by the moment. But the champions must each have their turn with me, come what may. I feel like a prize show horse at auction, made to perform my paces for potential buyers. There might as well be a whip snapping at my flanks.
But it is undoubtedly a relief to exchange my last severalpartners for Elis. Following my turn with Valtar, Prince Bryon claimed me. Dancing with him was rather like dancing with an avalanche, always on the verge of crashing down on me. I couldn’t remember the last time I was so off-balance…only to change my mind the moment Learned Majestic Rune’s hand snaked around my waist and led me into a serpentine pattern of steps underscored by the eerie zither music of his homeland. I wouldn’t have expected him to dance at all; the learneds of Senland are said to refrain from all worldly pleasures as they devote themselves to ancient texts and the gathering of both knowledge and holiness.
“You’re an excellent dancer,” I said, a little breathless but determined to break the silence between us. “Where did you learn?”
His pale eyes flicked to my face, an expression of absolute disdain. “The Sacred Dances of the Ilementi are part of every learned’s education from the time he is old enough to stand.” He said it as though I and everyone else ought to know as much and probably ought to have learned the dances ourselves if we wanted to be worth anything. I swallowed my tongue and concentrated on my feet, desperate to remember the pattern of steps, knowing perfectly well that I’d forgotten half. With every mistake, either big or small, I felt the learned’s contempt for me growing, until it vibrated like a veil in the air between us.
It was a relief when his dry, cold hands finally relinquished me. Lord Elis immediately stepped in to fill the gap, leaping ahead of the other champions, who wait on the edge of the floor. His smile is easy, his manner charming. So charming, I could almost forget the viciousness with which he had nearly launched himself at Prince Valtar not so long ago. There seems to be some mutual agreement among the champions not to let the night erupt into violence. Something tells me they are merely biding their time, however.
“While I may not be as graceful as friend Rune there,” Elis says, guiding me through the first spin of the dance, “on the positive side,youare going to look very good by comparison.”
The remark takes me by surprise, and I utter a snorting laugh. Hastily, I clap my hand over my mouth, but Elis smoothly reaches out and pulls my hand away. “Please, Princess,” he says, “do not hide that smile of yours. Or that laugh.”
“Oh gods, that was a most unseemly noise!” I reply, shaking my head with embarrassment. “Philippa would never approve.”
“While I have not had the pleasure of meeting this Philippa of whom you speak,” Elis says, lifting our arms and spinning us both gracefully until my head whirls, “I must respectfully say…” He drops his head close to mine, his lips near my ear as he whispers, “Ruttthat.”
I gasp, another shocked laugh burbling up my throat, and cast him a sideways glance. He winks, and there I go blushing all over again. “I like a little unseemliness in a lady,” he says. “I hope to inspire many such unseemly outbursts from your lips. And perhaps unseemlier by far,” he adds with a lifted eyebrow.
Great gods and goddesses, did he actually say those words out loud? Right here on the dance floor? In front of everyone? I burst into a fit of helpless giggles, no doubt brought on by hunger and fatigue more than the actual amusement my partner offers. I’m still laughing when the dance ends, and I find myself turned to face Joro.
The Pirate Prince meets my frozen smile with a glittering grin of his own. I’m immediately put in mind of knives trailing along jawbones, so sharp are the edges of his teeth. I shoot a quick look over my shoulder, half hoping for escape. To my dismay, Prince Taigan is the only one approaching from the wings. No sign of Warrick anywhere.
Choosing what I believe to be the lesser of two evils, I face Joro again and dip a little curtsy. “Do you dance, Prince?” I ask politely.
“Better than these land dogs, that’s for sure,” he replies. The next moment, I’m in his arms and back out in the middle of the dance floor beneath thescintillights. I don’t know if my sudden lightheadedness is due more to hunger or the intoxicating aura of this dangerous man. All I know for certain is that my heart is suddenly racing a little faster, and blood rushes through my temples and pools in my gut every time I catch his eye.
“And are you enjoying yourself this evening, Princess Roselle?” he asks, that accent of his strangely rich, almost decadent.
“I am, thank you,” I lie with a smile.
“I’m sure you are.” He pulls me closer than necessary, twirling us both through a sprightly turn, and takes the opportunity to drop his gaze to my bosom, pressed hard against his pearled and belaced chest. A lewd smile pulls at his lips, but when his gaze lifts to mine, he says, “I’m sure a mincing little thing like you isn’t used to such a fuss being made over her.”
A hot rush flows up my neck, burning my cheeks, hot as any dragon flame. I gape at him, scarcely believing my ears.
He laughs, his voice nearly drowned out by a sudden burst of pipe song. It’s almost as though he knew the melody and timed his laugh accordingly. “Come now, little princess,” he says, “did you really think all these mighty men were here for you? You’re nothing much…a pretty vessel, perhaps. It’s the fire you carry inside they are interested in, every last rat-rutter of them.” I start to pull away, but his grip on my waist tightens. “Don’t scowl so, it ruins that sweet mouth of yours. You’ve no need to worry! Something interesting might be made of you yet. Most women can be molded if the right man comes along.”
“I have no intention of being molded, thank you,” I reply, my teeth grinding. “And I’ve had quite enough of dancing for the present.”
“Oh, but I haven’t. And there’s a singular dearth of partners to be had, so you’ll have to do.” I aim a kick at his shin, but my voluminous skirts get in the way. He senses the effort and laughs again, ducking his face to my neck, breathing against my prickling flesh. “You were happy enough to cozy up to that dracori. Why not a pirate? Or do you fear I’ll bite?”
I gasp as his teeth nip the skin just below my ear. A rush of sensations bursts through my body: horror, disgust, fear, and…and not a little thrilling titillation, though it shames me to admit it. The man has some dangerous magnetism that simultaneously repels and attracts, and I’m trapped in its pulse. Where are the other champions? How have they not noticed what is happening? But Joro moves us through the paces of the dance so smoothly, disguising his actions in graceful turns. Not even Alderin has noticed my distress. I try to summon up a scream, but can only manage a breathless “You forget yourself, sir!”
“Do I?” He leans back, putting a little more space between us as we continue to turn, following the music. “No, I don’t think I’ve forgotten a thing. I’ve certainly not forgotten what you are:dragon.Oh yes, a dragon, with all the potential to become yet another Mhoryga, only this time on our side of the sea. I’ve not forgotten that your kind is a plague upon humanity, demon spawn banished from hell, bound to turn our world into one like yours. Have I got it right? Or is there something else I’m forgetting?”
My head clamors, blood pounding like warning bells. I know I’m surrounded by armed men, all of whom are ready at the least provocation to leap to my defense, and yet…my throat seems to have closed up. I stare into those murderous eyes, and I knowsuddenly that this man has no intention of entering the trials. He has one and only one purpose in coming here.
He smiles again, that dangerous knife’s-blade grin. “The last thing this world needs is another dragon.”
With a strangled cry, I wrench free of his grasp, stepping back three paces. My back comes into contact with something big. And solid. Like a slab of granite chiseled into a perfected shape of manhood. A hand slips around my waist and presses against my abdomen in a manner that is oddly familiar.
“What is going on here?” a deep-as-night voice growls over my head.
I could almost melt with relief, my knees threatening to give way. It takes all the self-control I possess not to turn and fling my arms around Valtar’s massively reassuring body. Instead, I simply lean against him, taking advantage of the support he offers.
Joro’s eyes flick from me to the prince. “Come now, dracori,” he says. “Don’t pretend with me. You’re not like the rest of them; you can be honest and admit you’re here for the same reason they all are.”
