His chest rumbled with a chuckle. “I think that’s a lie.”
“Maybe.”
I watched as his grin widened, transforming all those hard edges into something devastatingly handsome. I mean, he was always handsome, but smiling Harthon was…beautiful. The kind of beautiful that was wrapped in those tall mountain peaks and the Domus walls he’d shown me because he thought I’d enjoy the view. Wild, raw, and more overwhelming than expected.
A few steps later, he brought us to a stop, and I peered up at him in question. A strand of hair dangled in front of my eyes, having come loose from the braid. My breath caught as he released my hand to tuck it behind my ear, fingers trailing lightly over my temple.
He removed his hand from the shell of my ear, only to replace it with his lips, which murmured, “Our dance is done. No one will bother you now.”
Then the musicians started playing again, cuing us to move away. As expected, he guided me back up the stairs, which was good becausethey were swaying beneath my feet.
When we returned to the table, Ellan, at least seven cups deep in drink, flung his arms around Harthon. “That wasbeautiful,” he exclaimed without an ounce of sarcasm.
I collapsed in the seat, and as Harthon promised, no more party guests approached.
* * *
You’re beautiful to watch…
Do you like me, Etarla?
No.
I think that’s a lie.
Maybe.
I buried my face in the blankets, wishing the pounding in my head would shatter my brain and knock me unconscious forever.
I was never,ever, drinking wine again.
Apparently, it turned me into an absolute bumbling idiot. I’d been two sips away from telling Harthon just how handsome and beautiful I’d thought he was in that regal ensemble and crown. It was a genuine blessing that I’d gotten too sleepy to speak again after our dance and kept my mouth shut as he walked me to the inn and handed me off to Stefano.
When Harthon had told me I’d want to die today, he wasn’t wrong. Death was a far better option than facing him this morning.
I dragged myself out of bed and gulped my second cup of water. The sun had yet to rise, but I managed to find my clothing in the darkness and get dressed. Harthon had parted last night by telling me to sleep in and save training for the evening. We were seeing Josenne today, and it was important that I was rested and sound of mind for that encounter.
As if we were entering a battle, but one of minds.
Shaking out my limbs, I took my fighting stance. Once awake, I could never fall back asleep, so I would use the time to practice my kicks and jabs. If anything, it would strengthen my confidence for the day ahead.
A time later, the sun rose, and a knock on the door thankfully revealed a bright-eyed Stefano rather than Harthon. Though I’d see him soon enough.
“How was the party?” Stefano asked politely, leading me to the inn’s exit.
None of the soldiers had attended, though all of them had been given the option. Wine, copious food, and even half-naked women hadn’t been enough to tempt them into that crowd.
“Well, I managed not to stab anyone with a fork.”
His floppy hair bounced as he trotted down the stairs. “Are the parties really that bad?”
“You’ve never been to one?”
He flashed me a sheepish grin. “I’ve been to our celebrations, and those are fun. But I’ve never come with Harthon to Fifth before, so I’ve never seen Ellan’s parties.”
“How is this your first time here? It’s not like you aren’t good enough at fighting to accompany him.”
The horses waited for us outside, and I caught a glimpse of Harthon saddling his black stallion. The hammering in my skull might have dulled to a light ache, but I still wasn’t ready to face him.
