I tip my head, curls trailing over my shoulder. “It is my impression that you’ve never heard a word of criticism in your entire life. In fact, if I were a betting woman, I’d lay down good money that you’ve had nothing but a well-stuffed and coddled ego from the day you were born until this.”
A touch of pink stains his cheeks. To his credit, however, he maintains his cool. His voice is just a bit stiff when he answers, “I…can understand why you might think that.” Then he shrugs, and for an instant, a flash of what might be vulnerability gleams in his eyes. “It has been impressed upon me from the time I was small that I must take care how I present myself to the world. Iamthe nephew and heir of the High King, after all. It is no small burden to bear.”
Is this a trick? Some sort of ruse to make me feel sorry for him? I wouldn’t be surprised. There’s something a little toopracticed, a little too polished in this speech, in this performance of authenticity. Still…I flick a glance up at the dais where King Alderin still sits, watching the dance floor and the little tableaus playing out before him. We might as well all be players on a stage, performing our parts for his amusement. I know I for one have not felt like myself since coming into his sphere. I’ve spent a week and a half trying to accommodate the role he has set before me, knowing all the while how wrong I am for that role. There’s something about him, some subtle compulsion vibrating from his soul that makes one feel as though one cannot bear to disappoint him. I don’t even like him—he’s not my uncle but my kidnapper, the man who stole me from my life and flung me headfirst into this mess. And yet, anytime I feel as though I’ve let him down, I’m overcome with shame.
What must it have been like to grow up in proximity to such a man? What must it be like to be the nephew of a legend? To bear the weight of everyone’s expectations…expectations you are almost destined to disappoint. Because no one could help but fall short of such a legacy. Alderin is a hero the likes of which the world has rarely seen. Who else had the courage to enter the very heart of Mhoryga’s domain, to steal a dragon egg? My own egg, if the stories are to be believed.
I bite my lower lip, contemplating the prince before me. I’ve always been empathetic to a fault and find myself more than halfway inclined to offer empathy to Taigan. “Well,” I say with some reluctance, “that all might be true enough. But that doesn’t give you the right to be a complete arse to people.”
“Have I been an”—he hesitates over the unprincely word—“an arse to you?”
“Really?” I give him a look. “You have to ask?”
“If that is the case, I apologize, Princess Roselle.” He looksvery solemn and, though I hate to admit it, very handsome as he bows to me. “I hope you will understand that any arse-like behavior on my part stems merely from a desire to prove myself worthy of the destiny to which I have been called.”
“To which youmayhave been called,” I answer with some force. “You’ve not won this championship yet, Prince Taigan. You’ve not even taken the lead.”
His face darkens. For a moment, I see again the Taigan I have come to dread, forceful and entitled, possessive and terrifying. That image is gone again in a blink, however, replaced by an expression of smooth courtliness. “I fully intend to prove myself,” he says. “To you, to my uncle. To all of them.” He moves his arm, indicating the other three champions watching us from a little distance.
“I suppose we’ll see,” I say frostily. Then: “Are you intending to ask me to dance, Prince?”
Even as I speak, the song which has been playing all this while comes to an end. As the next one begins, Lord Elis appears suddenly at my elbow, his fingers pinching ever so slightly. “How now, Taigan, old boy!” he says with a grin. “You’ve had your chance and wasted it in chitchat. There’s none to blame but yourself! My turn now.”
I catch a last glimpse of the prince’s face just as Elis whirls me away. His expression looks very close to murder. But then he’s behind me, and I’m moving rather faster than I like, trying to keep up with the pace of the dance and my new partner’s exuberance. Elis pulls me so close, I lose my breath in a little gasp as my chest collides with his. I draw back a step and manage to say, “Lord Elis, I don’t remember youaskingme to dance!”
The young lord tosses back his head and laughs merrily. “I’ve often found it bestnotto ask. Ladies can be so fickle in theirpreferences and need a man to simply show them what they truly want.”
“Oh?” I put a little more space between us only for him to pull me closer again. “And what is it I want exactly?”
“That’s easy.” Elis tips his head and speaks in a not-quite whisper. “To beanywhereother than in the same atmosphere as Prince Taigan.”
An unladylike snort escapes through my nostrils. I try to hide it in a cool expression. “You are surprisingly insightful, Lord Elis.”
“I like to think I’ve got unexplored depths about me,” he replies. “In fact, you and I might find a great deal of amusement exploring one another’s depths.”
There’s something about the way he says it that feelsjuston the wrong side of suggestive. I find myself both laughing and blushing and…oh gods, am I having fun? I might be. Far more fun than a victim of kidnapping and mistaken identity really ought to be having while imprisoned some three thousand feet underground. I’ve never been properly courted before, certainly not by this many men at once. Tim made a few vague attempts, which I momentarily indulged before repulsing with vigor. To find myself the center of attention for all these very handsome, very powerful men…how easily it might go to my head!
Come now, little princess, did you really think all these mighty men were here for you?Joro’s voice echoes darkly in the back of my mind.You’re nothing much…It’s the fire you carry inside they are interested in, every last rat-rutter of them.
It’s true. I may hate the very memory of Joro and what he tried to do to me. But in this, at least, he spoke honestly. None of these men want anything to do with me—not the real me. Any one of a thousand other young women could take my place, andthey would pursue her with the same vigor. But I myself don’t matter three straws to any of them.
“Now, Princess,” Elis’s voice breaks through my thoughts, drawing my attention back to his merry face, “that is a dour look if I ever saw one. Who has dared offend you? Was it Taigan, making faces again? Or did that slithery Rune hiss at you behind my back?”
His teasing coaxes a small smile back to my lips. But then he leans in and speaks into my ear. “Did I say something amiss? I do apologize if so. While I may play the cad, I don’t want you to be in doubt of my earnestness.”
Helooksvery earnest. Hesoundsvery earnest as well. But I cannot help doubting even so. “No,” I say, once more putting a little space between us. “I was afraid I’d stepped on your toe just then, that is all.”
“You did step on my toe. But if it would please you, Princess, I would gladly offer you nine others to step on as you so desire. And if those prove insufficient, I’m sure I could fetch the other champions to sacrifice their toes for your pleasure.”
I cannot help laughing. He so obviously enjoys acting the fool, and I’m happy enough for a distraction. He twirls me on through the dance, and I’m so dizzy for a moment, I almost don’t notice the tall, dark figure standing off to one side of the dance floor. Then my heart does a wild lurch, striking my breastbone before plunging to my belly.
It’s Valtar. He’s there, just at the entrance to the great hall. The multihuedscintillight plays strange shadows across his face and highlights the scar through his eyebrow. It can do nothing to lighten the intense dreariness of his all-black ensemble, but it does illuminate the bit of rose-colored silk tied to his sleeve.
My gaze fastens on that scarf. In the same moment, I canalmost feel the sizzling tension in the air as all the champions realize who has come and what he wears. I lift my eyes, and they momentarily lock with his. In that brief instant—no more than an instant before Elis spins me away—blood rushes in my veins, my heart jumps from my stomach to my throat, and I can’t help thinking this is much too strong a reaction to be having to a man I met only days ago.
“So he managed it after all,” Elis says, his voice not so merry as it was at the beginning of our dance. “The lads had bets going as to whether or not the dracori blighter would make himself charming enough to win your favor.”
“Oh?” I pull my gaze back to the young lord’s, hoping he cannot hear how hard my heart is pounding. “And what was the general consensus?”
