“Your light casts every other woman into the shade.”
“My light...” I swallow my snicker. “You princes and your flattery.”
“I’m a bastard, not a prince,” he says.
Hearing him call himself such is jarring. “I’m sorry,” I say sincerely, though I suspect it’s the liquor making me feel sorrier for him than usual.
“Don’t be,” he says. “I’m not. I get to do as I please without being encumbered by all the princely fanfare my esteemed brother so loves.”
“It doesn’t seem like you like him very much.”
“No. The feeling is mutual between my brother and me. You see, he thinks my place shouldn’t be in the palace. If he treats me like nothing, I become nothing.”
“But you are the king’s son, too.”
He shrugs. “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.”
“Where’s that from?” I ask, curious.
“A very old book.”
“Youlike books?” I blurt out.
He favors me with a sidelong perusal. “Does that surprise you, Lady Suraya? As far as I know, it’s not a crime to read.”
“No, it’s not, thank the heavens.” I peer up at him, astonished to have anything in common with this prince, bastard born or not, much less a shared affinity for books. “I just didn’t expect you of all people to openly admit a passion for reading, Your Highness.”
“I’m a man of many passions,” he says with a heated look that I desperately try to ignore and fail miserably when my body warms. “And I’m Roshan. My friends call me Ro.”
As a commoner, there’s no way I can address him by his given name or a nickname, even with his permission, so I wrinkle my nose. “You have friends?”
His eyes dance. “So vicious.”
“Why were you dressed like a servant that first day anyway? Got tired of having your hair brushed with jeweled combs and being hand-fed sweet rice pudding and nougat?”
He laughs. “Something like that. I wanted to see for myself what kind of women my brother had invited without the idolatry that comes with my station.”
“Idolatry?”I flick an eyebrow upward. “You’re pretty full of hot air for a non-prince.”
“It’s all that tasty rice pudding,” he says solemnly. “Goes to a man’s head.”
I’m enjoying our exchange so much that I can’t help smiling, even with the grim reality of my situation. Or maybe that’s the elderflower liqueur’s effect. A tiny voice insists that I should probably try harder to keep my wits about me, but another revels in the easy feeling of enjoying his company, my worries fading into the background. That’s the problem with alcohol: it creates a false sense of well-being.
My attention flicks to Helena, who is dancing with the crown prince. I wish he’d just pick her and get on with it. They’re perfectly suited to each other: calculating, brutal, and cold.
So unlike the surprising man beside me.
I peek up at him through my lashes, only to find his gaze intent on me, his full bottom lip snagged between his teeth. Ashes below, the things I could do to that lip. Arousal unspools through me, tightening my skin and curling down into my abdomen like liquid flame. That’s it. I’m never drinking again.
My heart thuds in my chest as he removes my nearly empty flute from my hand. His fingers are warm and strong. “Dance with me, my lady.”
The smarter side of me balks at the request while the stupid side is swooning. “Your Highness, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I’m not the best dancer, and I don’t want to embarrass you.”
“It’s Roshan, and you could never embarrass me.”
I beg to differ, having watched the other women dipping and gliding about the room like so many colorful birds. Without a doubt, I’m going to look even more like a graceless ostrich among them. I glance up at the prince. “This is a Kaldarian court dance. I don’t know the steps.”
“Lucky for you, I am an excellent dancer,” he murmurs. “All you have to do is hold on to me and follow my lead.” His grin is irrepressible.Irresistible.“I live to rescue damsels in distress, you know.”
