He turns me again, affording me welcome relief from that gaze of his. But when I come around, he draws me close once more, and I cannot help but look up into his dark eyes. “I would give anything to protect the woodlands of my home, the sacred green groves and flowing streams. If I thought there was but a chance of defeating the Dragon Queen, I would march into the very pit of hell. Or…” he adds with a grin, “hobble, if necessary.”
I blink, momentarily too surprised by the comment to laugh. Who would have thought solemn Warrick could be possessed of a sense of humor? A little smile breaks across my lips. I find I’m warming to the prince of Anfalen, with his deep voice and his strong hands. Just two nights ago, the champions had all seemed like a blur of faces, but already, they are beginning to become real people in my life. People who are here for a purpose…a purpose which has nothing to do with me personally, and yet a purpose to which I am inextricably bound.
“I admire your resolve,” I manage at last. “It must have taken some courage to…to enter this championship.”
“Well,” he acknowledges with a slight shrug, “a pretty face such as yours goes a long way to bolstering a man’s courage.”
It’s official: The man is both self-deprecating and charming. Not at all a bad combination. Humble too. I suspect there are any number of fine qualities lurking beneath that stern exterior. If it weren’t for the ridiculous nature of our circumstances, I rather think he’s a man I should like to know better.
But if it weren’t for these ridiculous circumstances, we should never have met at all—a pertinent fact, and one I would do well not to forget.
The dance draws to a close. Warrick bows deeply. “Thank youfor the honor, Princess,” he says. “I’m afraid that will have to be my only dance of the evening, for I must spare my leg. But I hope we will have opportunity to speak again soon. Perhaps tomorrow following the trial?”
I offer a little smile. “The best of luck to you, Prince Warrick. Should you be successful, I will be glad indeed to speak with you further.”
As he makes his way from the floor, I turn only to find myself staring at the open-fronted robe of the Learned Majestic. Gods above, for an academic, he certainly has a finely hewn physique!
“Dance,” he says. It’s not exactly a request.
“Do you think we might eat?” I quaver, my voice squeaking rather more than I like. “Wouldn’t want the food to get cold, after all, and then perhaps we should wait after eating so no one gets cramps…”
The words trail away to nothing, for Rune’s left hand has wrapped firmly around my waist, while the right clasps my fingers tight as he leads me into the first turn of a new dance. The musicians, peering out from their gallery, must have seen that it was the Learned Majestic who claimed me, for they immediately begin playing the strange zither music which is traditional in Senland.
Rune does not talk as we dance. Moving with serpentine grace, he maintains eye contact the entire time. It’s so intense, I swear his head doesn’t move even when the rest of his body turns a full circle. And it’s strangely hypnotic; the longer one stares into those eyes, the more one gets the feeling they know you better than anyone else ever could. Deeply, intimately. As the dance continues, I find myself curiously drawn to him. Perhaps it is the sensual grace of his body, the way he coils and spins around me.
I lose all track of time. It feels as though we have moved in rhythm with this strange music for hours when abruptly, it ends. “Well!” I gasp, suddenly discovering my breathless voice. I fan my face with one hand. “That was…something!”
I sound utterly inane in my own ears. But Rune merely takes my hand and raises it to his mouth. His breath is hot against my skin, and his lips are unexpectedly dry. But he catches my eye again in another flash of that intense, all-consuming stare. “Princess,” he says, and nothing more. But the way he says it, the conviction in his voice, has me for the first time almost believing that I really am a princess. That I must be. That to be anything less would be unthinkable now that this man has declared it to be so.
The Learned Majestic glides away without another word, leaving me gaping after him. What the hells just happened to me? Did I…did I actually feelattractiontoward that terrifying specimen of manhood? I breathe out a blustering sigh through my lips and turn to face my next ordeal.
It’s Taigan.
Of course it’s Taigan. Did I really think I would get through this entire evening without having to dance with him? Not likely. He stands there, clad in the same white tunic with the red phoenix emblem which he wore at the last banquet. Still golden and beautiful and larger than life. Still very much himself.
I lift my gaze to meet his green eyes. He says nothing for a long moment. Neither do I. The musicians start to play something, but still he makes no move. He simply studies me, until something in his expression shifts, as though he’s come to a sudden realization. What that realization might be, I have no idea. All I know is that I won’t flinch away from his gaze.
“I think perhaps,” Taigan says abruptly, breaking the awkward silence, “you and I have gotten off on the wrong foot.”
I blink slowly and cross my arms. “Oh, really?”
For a moment, he looks uncomfortable. He rubs a hand down the back of his neck. “I know,” he says, not quite meeting my eye, “you were hiding from me in the library today.”
Heat rises up my neck, but I won’t let embarrassment move me. Channeling the Learned Majestic’s powers, I merely stare back at the prince, unblinking.
“See here,” he says, “I know I come across a little…strong, perhaps.”
“That’s not the word I’d use,” I answer tartly.
He tips an eyebrow. “Dare I ask what word you would use?”
“Like an ass’s hindquarters.”
For a moment, he does nothing but blink. Then a muscle in his jaw tightens. “I’ve heard worse.”
“Have you though?”
“Come again?”
