Some other couples have broken off toward the edge of the dance floor. My flesh prickles as he guides me toward them, still moving with the music. As we dance, Cygnus holds me at a distance, and I’m starkly aware of the space between our waists. His movements are flawless. I’m used to his self-assurance, but it’s more prominent in this context. He’s a strong dancer. I’d venture to call him graceful.
Damn him for being good at everything.
“I’m sorry for losing my temper,” he whispers when we’ve drifted far enough from the crowd that I can hear him. The apology takes me by surprise.
“You don’t have to do that.” My neck prickles with goose bumps.
“Do what?”
“Lie to me.” I swallow. “Pretend that you care.”
“Does itfeellike I’m lying?” His voice is earnest, but there’s something else tacit in the press of his hand against my back. Every part of me warms, but I don’t want to yield to him—not an inch.
“We’re not doing this.” I draw away.
“Dancing? You’re very good. I’ve only lost a few toes.”
I glower at him. “What do you want?”
“Just what I said. To apologize.” He pauses. “I can, and should, be more patient. You’re my equal partner. Your decisions merit my respect. I’m sorry.”
Cygnus offers his hand again. This time, when he pulls me toward him, it’s close enough that my chest presses against his.
“And I’m sorry about Finn,” he adds, with a voice growing rough. “You should love who you want to love. I’m not aiming to get in the way of that.”
“Cygnus…”
I can’t miss the shift in his scent. The evidence of attraction. I suspect it might be on me, too.
Damn me straight to hell.
“Can you do one thing for me?” He leans in. I don’t know the extent of his half-Elf senses. But if he can tell how I’m responding to his touch, I imagine he’s savoring the confirmation of this limited power over me…the same power he seems to have overmostwomen. “Don’t make him any promises,” he urges. “Before agreeing to anything, come to me first. Please. I love Finn. But I don’t trust him, Lyria.”
I can’t understand why Cygnus is suddenly so forthcoming. I don’t know what’s changed. Maybe he just feels the same apprehension I do—the rising fear that our summer of parties and diversions is quickly drawing to a close.
“I’m not promising anyone anything,” I assure him.
“Good girl.”
I shiver.
With maddening ease, he guides us back toward the crowd. We fall into step with the group again, and I’m quickly spun toward a new partner, but the heat lingers. I feel it long after he’s gone.
The celebration’s fervor grows with nightfall. The action is cresting when I notice a group of revelers pouring down from the castle. They’re moving sporadically, tumbling and jumping over one another. They swarm the dance floor, and my eye catches the tallest among them. Finn is in a silver-and-blue doublet with dark embroidery, his hair tousled with sweat. And when his eyes find mine in the crowd, there’s no stopping my feet.
This is a mistake, that rational voice pleads.
I resolutely ignore it.
We move together as if by gravitational design. I worry he might hesitate after all that transpired earlier, but Finn seems to be caught in the same spell that’s infected my faculties. He wastes no time pulling me flush against him. His form is solid and familiar, everything I need to hold on to, all I want to touch….
“You were dancing with Cygnus,” he murmurs, finding my ear.
My heartbeat speeds. “Is that a problem?”
His hand tightens against my lower back, and we spin. “No.” Finn draws closer to be heard over the music. “I don’t own you any more than you own me. If you don’t want my company, I can’t prevent you from seeking his.”
My face feels very warm. “It’s not like that with Cygnus.”
