“Well?” I prodded. “Do I pass muster?”
“Let me see.” Gareth circled me, holding his chin as if deep in thought. “Quite a nice gown, I must say. That deep violet color suits you. And it bares your shoulders in a way some might find provocative.”
“Bared shoulders are provocative?”
“Absolutely, when they’re as lovely as yours.”
My cheeks warmed at the compliment. The wine had truly gotten to me. “Theselovelyshoulders often carry weapons into battle, you know.”
“Even better.”
I swallowed a smile and closed my eyes. “And my hair?” I asked, turning up my chin to pose.
“Wise to wear it gathered at your nape,” he answered at once. “It shows off your skin, the lines of your neck.”
Gareth was passing behind me then, and with my eyes closed and the orchestra’s waltz spinning through the air, I convinced myself that soon he would come closer, put his hand on my waist, and press a kiss between my shoulder blades.
The image was absurd enough to shake me out of whatever tipsy madness had taken hold of my senses. I opened my eyes to glare at him, hoping he wouldn’t notice the goose bumps prickling my skin.
“What do you want, Gareth?” I said sharply. “Did you come over here just to flirt with me?”
“If so, I’d say I’m doing a pretty good job of it,” he replied jovially.
“I’ve seen better.”
He put a hand on his heart, flashing me another mischievous grin. “I’d be honored by the chance to try again. Practice makes perfect, they say.”
For a moment, I felt tempted to give in to whatever was happening here. Gareth was attractive and certainly smarter than most men I’d taken to bed. It was rare for me to feel pretty, and I did that night, especially with him looking at me like that, with his eyes twinkling and his clever mouth promising clever kisses. Maybe bedding a professor would strengthen the Order’s relationship with the university. The Wardenhadsaid to be charming.
But then Gareth’s gaze moved past me, and his expression darkened. “Oh, for the love of all the gods,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “Can I have the rest of your wine?”
I raised my eyebrows and wordlessly handed him my glass. He downed the last bit in a rather violent gulp, then turned to smile at the young man approaching us. He looked to be about twenty, with tawny brown skin, loose black curls, wide brown eyes, and an air of the fawn about him, skittish and guileless. But he carried a notebook and pen, and on second glance, those sweet eyes held an avid light that put me on my guard at once.
“Reynard Farrington,” Gareth said lightly. “Enjoying the party?”
“Oh, yes. My first royal ball. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“And you may never again, depending on how the next few weeks unfold.” Gareth glanced at me. “Have you met Reynard Farrington of theFairhaven Courier? Reynard, this is Mara Ashbourne of the Order of the Rose.”
Reynard’s eyes widened. He opened his notebook and began jotting something down. “Gods remade, a Rose,” he murmured. “I’ve never met one before.”
“A veritable feast of new experiences for you tonight,” I replied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise, likewise. If you don’t mind, Mara, I’d love to ask you a few questions after I finish with Professor Fontaine.”
The casual way he said my name, as if we were old friends, amused me as a precocious child might, but Gareth looked outraged.
“I already told you everything you need to know,” he said.
“On the contrary, you answered only two of my questions.”
“Yes, and then I walked away from you. Most people would read that as a dismissal.”
“Most people don’t write for theFairhaven Courier. And if you’re going to attend a royal ball, eat all this fine food, and dance the night away while thousands of your fellow citizens huddle in camps throughout the city, chased away from their homes by Olden forces or evacuated against their will…” Reynard shrugged with a sheepish smile. “It seems to me that the least you could do is answer a few questions for a writer just starting his career.”
“This ball was arranged to raise morale and funds for the war effort,” Gareth said tightly. “It isn’t a frivolous affair.”
“And the people who could benefit most from heightened morale are not here.” Reynard nodded at the windows overlooking the city. “Instead they’re out there, watching the golden festivities from theirhuts and their borrowed rooms and wondering if they’ll have homes to return to when all of this is over. Or if they’ll even still be alive.”
