He lowered his head appropriately, responding calmly, “As are you, Your Highness.”
I smiled pleasantly, hiding all genuine emotion, and patiently waited to walk away when the other dancers did. In my harried state of mind, I almost bumped into Bishop, where he was downing an entire flute of wine—his honey-brown eyes as wide as saucers and steadfast on his diminishing drink. My destination didn’t change though, my course set as I slipped around him. I strolled casually through the crowd, my smile not wavering once.
Only at the back ballroom door did I crack. “I need air.”
Leaning his shoulder against the doorway, King Traevon sipped on a glass of whiskey. He swallowed down the alcohol, his emerald gaze firm on mine. Father quirked one red eyebrow. “I imagine you do after that debacle, my heir.” He tipped his head toward the hallway. “Go calm your nerves. But don’t take long. You will need to dance with others now.”
I snorted, hissing under my breath, “Screw dancing.”
“Precisely so. It looked like the elven heir and her people’s most dangerous enemy were screwing their fucking brains out right in front of them—particularly from the balcony where I was, unfortunately, standing with your mother,” King Traevon stated oh, so calmly. “That is why you must dance that fuck away with others—elves—so our guests will leave my castle with only fond thoughts of you in their mind. Leave no one room to question your loyalty, my heir.”
I blinked slowly. “That was rather crude, Father.”
“I said that as your king.” King Traevon smiled, flashing his fangs. “Now go bloody comport yourself, and try not to get yourself into any more scandalous situations tonight.”
“That was my plan,” I snarled, marching straight out of the ballroom. I didn’t look back as I added, “And I’ll take as long as I please, my king.”
