You’re the key to Centralis. You’ve fought off armed men. Survived Koerlyn. It’s just a dance.
I was certain my palms were drenched with sweat by the time we came to a stop.
Just a dance.
My buzzing thoughts were the only sound I could hear. The musicians were silent as they prepared for their next song. The people surrounding us didn’t whisper, only watched, perhaps because they were too afraid to gossip in front of Harthon. Lord Alrich was among them, his beady eyes observing us with far too much focus.
Just a dance.
Harthon rounded on me, his body moving so that his wide chest, not Alrich or any of those prying strangers, was the only thing in my sightline. His palm slid from my arm to the curve of my waist, settling there as if it’d done so hundreds of times before. His free hand guided one of mine to his shoulder before grasping the other, long fingers swallowing mine. They squeezed.
I took a deep breath. The familiar scent of leather and musk seemed to dampen my fears, so I took another. Then one more.
“I didn’t realize my chest was so fascinating,” Harthon said softly, his lips beside my ear. Realizing I had yet to move my sight from his chest, I tipped my chin up to meet his eyes. They didn’t contain the same sarcasm as his words. Rather, they were steady. He squeezed my hand again.
Finally, the musicians began to play, an easy waltz taking shape in their melody.
“Are they going to watch the entire time?” I whispered in an effort to delay the inevitable.
But Harthon didn’t grant me that delay. Instead, he began to step—forward, to the side, then rotating—applying pressure on my hand and waist so I moved with him. And I did, my body moving like it knew instinctually to follow him, trusting him completely. His eyes, which hadn’t strayed from mine, demanded that trust, as did the gentle way he kept squeezing my hand.
I kept my steps small, not wanting to smash his feet like I’d done before, and he effortlessly matched my strides as we finished the first short sequence of steps and began to repeat them. Still, my steps were shaky—not verymagvis-like, and everyone could see me, and even though I wore a crown—
The hand on my waist slipped lower, to the top of my hip, bringing my mental conversation to a screeching halt.
His mouth shifted, that stubble twitching as he catalogued whatever was on my face. Probably a combination of surprise and heat.
But ifhecould see the surprise and heat burning my cheeks, everyone else could, too, and that alone was giving far too much away about Etarla, the human. The thought of revealing things I shouldn’t unlocked an uncomfortable memory, something from my time with Koerlyn. Somehow, he’d known that Harthon and I had danced together at Ellan’s party.
“Go with this.”
I’d hardly registered his words before Harthon twirled me away, completely exposing me. My pulse tripled as far too many people came into view. He brought my arm up and twisted his wrist, and I spun back into his embrace.
“Don’t do that again,” I hissed once my pulse recovered from the maneuver.
His grounding solidity sparked with mischief. “Do what? This?” he asked innocently, flinging me out again.
Instead of the sea of eyes before me, I focused on glaring at him. “Yes. That,” I said, twirling back into his arms.
His head bowed toward mine, and our chests brushed. “But you look so lovely when you spin.”
I swallowed as we fell back into step, repeating the sequence all while the whiskers of his jaw brushed my hairline. It was distracting. It was… provocative.
“To answer your question from earlier, yes. They are going to watch the whole time. And I cannot blame them, because I would watch you, too. Now, spin.”
Whatever nerves had twisted my stomach unraveled and took flight, like the butterfly I’d seen out in the garden. This time, when he twirled me, I didn’t look around, didn’t glare at him. I just waited for the steps that would bring me back to him as heat blazed from the knowledge that lived within me. Or maybe that heat was from another place.
We continued like that as the melody peaked and valleyed, stepping, spinning, my chin tipped up so I could watch him watch me. Somewhere along the way, I stopped thinking about those around us, because my thoughts turned to something else.
No matter what I told myself, this was not merely a show, nor was it just comradery or attraction. It was none of the things I’d told myself in the past. It was somethingmore, and I was allowing myself to believe that.
I didn’t want to deny it any longer.
What I wanted was to kiss him. Or for him to kiss me. Or ideally, a combination of the two.
The music dwindled, signaling the song was coming to an end. Harthon spun me one final time, and whether it was my disappointment at the dance ending or just my natural lack of skill, I stumbled when I came back to him.
Both hands landed on my waist, steadying me as I braced myself against his chest. But then his grip didn’t move, evenas applause erupted and we were no longer obligated to stand there.
