“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he seethed at Harthon, who fisted the front of his tunic, veins straining in his hand. Harthon wasn’t much taller than Matthias, but his presence dwarfed him.
“I think the better question,” Harthon began, “is who the fuck do you thinkyouare?” His question was eerily calm, the soft volume a terrifying contrast to the aggression in his stance.
Matthias met the challenge, proving how much foolishness founded his arrogance. He gripped Harthon’s fist, meaning to shove it away.
To his humiliation, it didn’t budge.
“I’ll tell you who you are,” Harthon supplied, almost casually. “You are a cowardly, selfish waste of space, parading as a man of honor.” No doubt every ear on the terrace was riveted to every scathing, enunciated insult.
I sucked in a breath, wondering if Aric or Torr would intervene, but a quick glance showed the Princeps remained a captive, seated audience.
Giving up on physically removing himself from Harthon, Matthias resorted to insults. “I find it curious why such a formidable, renowned Princeps is getting his pants in a twist over a stupid servant who does not know how to walk.”
The woman flinched at his hate-filled words. I extended a hand to her, offering a soft smile despite the anxiety tightening my gut. It must have scared her, because in a flurry of skirts, she rushed to her feet and fled the terrace.
Harthon watched her leave, his tumultuous gaze slipping to mine before returning to the scum in front of him.
“I do not care about the servant,” he delivered blandly, masking what I knew was a lie. “I care that one of the cabinet members of my new ally is so immature that he’d throw a tantrum over spilled wine.”
Smoke could have drifted out of Matthias’ ears, his skin was such a fiery hue.
“Is this something I need to be concerned about?” Harthon asked, looking to Aric. Again, Matthias attempted to loosen his grip, and again, he failed.
I expected the Aric to defend Matthias. Harthon was challenging the Princeps’ government in front of an audience, and Aric wasn’t submissive. Instead, he sighed, waving a hand. “You know how difficult it is to remove one of them. This one just managed to slither his way in when my father ruled.”
He wasn’t entirely apathetic to the situation, however, because he added, “That said, I would appreciate it if you unhanded him, before you create a problem I need to address.”
Harthon’s attention swung back to Matthias. With a shrug of laughable indifference, he released him.
Matthias huffed, lips curving menacingly as he straightened his tunic. “You—”
“I wouldn’t.” I was surprised the words made it past my tongue.
All those eyes and ears now turned to me.
“You’ve embarrassed yourself enough,” I finished.
And you’ve embarrassed me, too.
No. I’d done that myself, dancing with him the way I had.
Andfor what?To get under Harthon’s skin? Because his attention had felt nice? I couldn’t have been more of a foolora failure.
Shame made my skin tight and itchy. The wine-soaked sleeve of my tunic clung to my arm. Harthon was watching me, I knew, but I couldn’t bear to see him. I couldn’t bear tobe here.
“Excuse me,” I murmured, and then, like the servant, I fled that awful space. Tears of frustration constricted my throat as I rushed into the hallway, hoping I could find my way back to my room.
Stefano filed in behind me, and my throat grew tighter when I heard Harthon call him off.
Of course, he’d follow me himself.
I kept my hurried pace, in no mood to confront him. His presence was a looming threat the entire way back to my room, ready to tell me I made a wrong turn, or that I’d done something entirely stupid, or that—guess what?—Matthias wasn’t the type of man I should be dancing with, and I was a dimwit to give him anything but cool indifference.
Or maybe those were all the things I was berating myself with.
By some grace, I made it to my door. I couldn’t even be proud of how well I’d just navigated the maze of hallways, not when I so desperately wished to crawl out of my skin. It was when I palmed the doorknob that Harthon made his move.
I had a breath to be aware that his big body was now directly behind me before his hand landed on mine.
