The dancers twirl swiftly around him, their breasts practically spilling from their tops, and Dante’s balance sways.
I hadn’t noticed before, but his eyes are a bit bloodshot. The wine they’ve given him must be strong. He’s keeping his balance, but I can tell it’s a struggle.
A chuckle ripples from the queens’ mattress, low and indulgent. “The future prince seems tense,” Queen Eosla murmurs, exchanging a knowing look with her wife.
“Perhaps he’s merely deciding which of them to bed first,” Queen Amber suggests.
“If it’s too much to handle, Dante, I’ll relieve you of one,” King Silas quips, the amusement in his tone laced with something coarser. “Or keep all three, if you dare. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind sharing.”
My nails dig deeper into my palm.
Dante’s lips curl faintly, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. “Your generosity humbles me, Your Majesty,” he says smoothly, though I notice the way his shoulders stiffen beneath the press of the dancers’ hands.
One of the women—tall, with skin like gleaming bronze—slides her fingers along the open edges of his vest, pushing it farther apart. A muscle feathers in his jaw, but he doesn’t pull away.
I clench my teeth as my heart pounds, the flush rising higher along my neck.
He’s only playing the part, I remind myself. But that doesn’t stop the ache low in my belly, the sharp twist of something I’m embarrassed I let consume me.
The women laugh softly as the music winds down. They twirl their scarves around him once more, drawing out the moment, their bodies brushing close enough to make my blood boil. But Dante only offers them a polite smile, dipping his head. “Your talents are exceptional,” hesays, his voice as smooth as velvet. “Truly a welcome I won’t soon forget.”
The queens exchange a glance as they applaud, clearly pleased.
The three women pull on Dante’s arm, forcing him to hunch forward a bit. When they each place a kiss on his cheeks and jaw, my breath leaves me, my stomach roiling. In my head, my dagger has already decapitated them all. But in reality, I keep still.
The dancers giggle, running their hands over his biceps as they sway their hips. The music fades as the dancers twirl away, leaving behind the scent of honeyed sweat and the low hum of anticipation. Heat coils around me like a second skin, thick with spice and incense, seeping into my lungs until every breath feels heavy. My hair sticks to the back of my neck. The thin silk of my dress clings to my spine.
Beside me, Dante sways as he reclaims his seat, his expression guarded beneath a veneer of amusement. But I can see the flush high on his cheeks, the way his hand tightens around the stem of his goblet. He’s trying not to show that the wine is affecting him.
But the queens know it.
The queens recline on their velvet cushions like cats basking in sunlight. Queen Eosla’s mouth curves into a smile as she lifts her hand, fingers glittering with rings.
“You’ve been a most gracious guest, prospective future Prince of Hedera,” she purrs, her voice like molten gold. “But your trial has yet to begin.”
I freeze. His trial? Now?
Dante lowers his goblet slowly. “Oh?”
Part of me wants to reach out and push the goblet down. More wine will only make any trial they have planned more difficult.
Queen Ambra leans forward, her silky, raven strands coiled over one shoulder like a serpent. “It’s simple. All we ask is that you walk.” Her eyes gleam as she gestures toward the center of the hall.
All heads turn.
At first, I don’t see it. But then the crowd parts. Nobles shift aside with the eager rustle of silk and laughter until a path is exposed.
Oh, shit.
Everyone stands to get a better view.
The tiled, twenty-foot path, narrow and straight, has been cleared across the length of the hall. Its edges are flanked by two rows of golden vases interspersed with lit torches, the flickering flames casting sharp shadows onto the tile. And scattered across the tiles, coiled and shimmering like water in the firelight, are at least a dozen snakes.
My breath catches.
The snakes barely move, their movements deliberate as they hiss. Like they’re waiting.
What the fuck is this?
