‘She’s eighteen and she knows nothing about the way the court works.’
‘And you recall such matters, do you?’ he asks softly. ‘Well then, Kultavaris, you’ll recall how essential it is to curry royal favour. Dance with me.’
It’s not a request, and I hate that, but he’s right, damn him. I can’t afford to spit at him in front of the whole court, not if I want Kay to stand a chance of belonging here if I win the gifting.
The music strikes up, and Kyor holds out a hand. I take it, trying to ignore the burst of static as his fingers curl around mine. Wordlessly, I allow him to guide me to the dance floor where he places his other hand on the small of my back, sending shockwaves through my body.
My breath catches as momentary panic rises through me, and it’s only partially because the prince has his hands on me. I’m not actually sure that I remember how to dance. I don’t even recognise what music this is, other than it’s not a waltz. As I grapple for memories of my previous life, Kyor draws me to him, the strength of his movements guiding me, leading me.
His body presses against mine, and unwanted heat floods through me.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll go slowly,’ he whispers against my ear. The heat of his presence becomes stifling, and I realise this is nothing more than another excuse to torture me. His thigh brushes mine again and again, and each turn and step drags me across the hard lines of him. I wish Llin had never cut that damned front panel out.
As I struggle to keep my breath even, his eyes catch mine and I see the glint within those pale irises. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me, and I hate him all the more for it.
Other than his initial remark, we’re silent as we dance, though words aren’t needed given that the taunting caress of his flesh against mine says it all. The thin fabric of my dress is barely a barrier for my hardening nipples, which ache with every brush of my chest against his. My legs want to twine around him, not step neatly in time with him. In fact, every part of me screams to close the last inches between us, to feel his mouth on mine, to tear away civility and give in to the mess of need clawing atmy insides. Need I never thought possible; it is primal and desperate and affecting every fibre in my body.
And the worst of it? He knows. I can feel it in the way his hand presses just a fraction firmer on my back, in the way his breath ghosts my ear, making me shudder. The tension between us is so thick I could choke on it, and the urge to run my hands across his skin is almost overwhelming.
As Kyor twirls me across the dance floor, I feel the weight of a hundred sets of eyes. Watching. Judging. Whispers ripple through the crowd, speculation sparking in every stolen glance.
Among them, I catch sight of Zelle. He’s dressed in his uniform – a clear indication that he’ll be working and not enjoying the frivolities tonight. Still, he’s smiling as though the sight of Kyor and me moving in step – so different from our usual sparring – pleases him. When his gaze finally locks with mine, that smile deepens. A moment later, he’s melted back into the crowd. No doubt back to work.
Finally, the music comes to an end, and the moment Kyor’s fingers release mine, I flee into the crowd without a backward glance. I agreed to a dance, not to a conversation. Thankfully, I see salvation in the form of the formally dressed Benny and head straight towards him.
‘Where have you been all day?’ I ask, trying to focus on anything other than Kyor Knavin.
‘Just praying,’ he replies. ‘Are we going to talk about that?’ He gestures to the dance floor.
‘No more than we’re going to talk about your “praying,”’ I fire back sharply.
He winces a little, and I know I’ve found my mark. Whatever Benny was doing, it wasn’t consulting the higher powers. ‘Fair.’
The music begins anew and apprehension curls in my gut as I watch Kay and Hew dance together again. I press my lips together. She doesn’t know that two dances in a row signal serious intent, that Hew is telling all others that Kay is his to court, and that by accepting the second dance, she is telling the rest of the nobles the same.
Kay’s practically floating in her green dress, eyes sparkling with joy. I have to admit that she and Hew make a striking pair; there’s no doubt about that. And from the way he glides, pulling her into every turn, the only way he’s been stepping on her feet is if it’s been deliberate.
I scan the crowd, trying to spot Artur, only to realise I have an issue. I no longer know what Artur Lorathin looks like. My memories of him arehazy at best, and the truth is, I struggle to see a face I recognise outside of the Rettlings. What I need is to find Jonas so that he can reintroduce us. Changing plans, I begin looking for my fellow Rettling, but before I can even work out where to start, a voice cuts through the ballroom.
‘Murderer! Korvane, you will pay for what you’ve done!’
A second later, the room is engulfed in total darkness.
Chapter 41
The screaming starts immediately and intensifies as magic is thrown out into the cloud of blackness that consumes us. Coloured blasts illuminate the ballroom with split seconds of blinding intensity, only to fade instantly, leaving coloured blurs in front of my eyes and an ashy tang at the back of my throat as I’m jostled from side to side. After that, screams and darkness are all that fill the room.
Having my sight ripped away from me is terrifying, but thanks to Jonas and Seiren, I’ve experienced similar before. So I pull myself together, ignore the fear, and focus on finding Kay.
‘Kay!’ I scream, trying to make my voice heard above all the crying wails, but it’s impossible.
Panic rises through me. I can’t lose her here. She can’t have survived years in the slums only to die in the Godsdamn High Hold because of my decision to enter the Retterheld.
‘Kay!’ I shout again. I’m struck from the side again, but this time whoever it is holds me firmly and twists my shoulders.
‘Get to the edge of the room, Rose.’ Benny’s voice peals through the darkness. ‘Stay there. Out of the way.’
‘I need to find Kay!’ I argue.
