“You are taking it incredibly easy on me.”
Some of the distance between us vanished as he leaned to my ear. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“You may.”
The rest of his body followed his head, closing the space between our chests and feet. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, the nearness. It wasn’t the same as I’d felt in Harthon’s arms—skies,not even remotely close—but I was curious.
“I’m not taking it easy on you,” he whispered.
“And my eyes are not violet,” I scoffed.
“Really. This is as well as I can dance. Anything more complex, and I’d trip over my own feet.”
I couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or cosseting me.
He drew his head away, but the rest of him remained close, his woodsy scent enveloping me. We’d slowly rotated, and now I faced the chairs, Harthon’s bulk a shadow at the edge of my vision.
Don’t look.
“That surprises me,” I told him. “Were you not trained to dance since you were a young boy?”
“I was not always a noble,” he revealed. One of his fingers trailed across the back of my hand. “I worked my way into the position I’m in now.”
Again, he surprised me.
“How did you do it?”
The hand on my waist shifted, like it was settling in. I wondered if I should lean into it.
“That is a rather long story.” The stubble across his jaw bumped my ear as he privately said, “I’ve found it’s best told over drinks, beside a fireplace, without the company of my peers. Many of them do not appreciate a self-made man.”
A whisper of arrogance. Harthon could be arrogant, too. But on him, it translated as an earned confidence, while Matthias’ wavered on self-importance.
The familiar tone of Harthon’s voice rolled through the space. His words were indecipherable, but I felt him moving closer, striking up a conversation with Aric.
Well, then, my decision was made. “If that is an invitation, then ye—”
“Do not approach unless I summon you.”
An angry, grating voice abruptly cut me off. Before I could spot its source, a wash of liquid sloshed over my side, followed by the piercing sound of shattering ceramic. Matthias froze, wine dripping across his neck and down the sleeve of his fine tunic.
Then he burst into action, yanking me behind him. I spotted the wide, scared eyes of a young woman standing above the broken pitcher, a pool of wine staining her worn shoes.
An older cabinet member stood behind her, sneering. “See what you’ve gone and done, girl?”
Her mouth hung open in abject horror as she took in the liquid that dripped from us. Every eye on the terrace was riveted to us.
I made to move around Matthias. “Here, let me help—”
“Not only have you made a terrible mistake, but you are continuing to do so as you stand there.” I froze, because now it was Matthias addressing her, and he soundedmenacing.“Get on your knees and bow.”
It was my turn to gape as I struggled to reconcilethiswith the easy-going man he’d been moments ago. His rigid posture and the red creeping up his neck told me this was no joke.
The woman didn’t move quickly enough, because Matthias suddenly lunged, shoving her to the floor. She landed in a slump amidst the wine and ceramic, terror painting her face as she cowed beneath him.
This isn’t happening.
I reached to pull Matthias back, but before I could make contact, he was yanked away from me.
