His friends—spiteful, redheaded Tavo and even-tempered, blond Gabriele—funnel in behind, gazes combing the crowd; the former, on the lookout for fun, the latter, for trouble.
Like every night, I’ve pinned up my hair to keep it out of my eyes and off my neck, but as I stand in front of Dante, as his gaze traces my features, I regret the hairstyle because it makes the shape of my ears all the more apparent.
I wrangle back my unease. Since when do I care? I don’t. The same way Dante doesn’t, or he wouldn’t have paid me a visit earlier. “Just the three of you?”
“Yes.”
Tearing my eyes from the object of my obsession, I lead them to the table beside the commander’s in the back of the tavern, the area reserved for the most esteemed guests, which can be shielded off with a heavy velvet curtain if the patrons so desire.
“When did you start working here, Fal?” The heat of Dante’s body sinks into my bare skin.
“After graduation.” I keep my attention on the floor to avoid tripping over any outstretched legs or wandering harlot.
The men at the commander’s table stand, even Silvius, and they all bow.
“At ease.” Dante must be standing right behind me because his warm breath teases my neck as he murmurs, “I hope you will be the one tending to us tonight, Fallon.”
I turn to face him. “Well, that is my job.”
“Your only job?” His raised eyebrow conveys his meaning.
“Yes, Dante. Myonlyjob. I leave charming men to the professionals.”
“Good.” His answer is as soft as the smile that precedes it.
As we stand there together, as his eyes hold mine, the crowd blurs into a fragmented kaleidoscope. He dampens his full lower lip with his tongue, and it tosses me back to that dark alleyway where one of my childhood dreams was granted.
A thin arm hooks my waist. “Looking awfully glittery, Dante.” Sybille’s voice drags me brutally back into the balmy tavern. “I’m surprised your ears haven’t begun drooping under the weight of so much gold.”
Dante releases my eyes to ferry a smile over at Sybille. “And I’m surprised your tongue hasn’t forked under the weight of so much jesting.”
She tosses her head back and laughs, while I’m still too prince-struck to so much as chuckle.
“What’s on the menu tonight, Syb?”
“For mains, roasted boar with quince, stewed turbot, or linguine in Mamma’s kingdom-renowned eggplant-cream sauce.”
He looks back at his friends, who’ve both settled into their seats, thighs spread and backs reclined. “We’ll take one of each. Make the servings plentiful. Our trip home was grueling.”
Tavo lets out a wolf whistle as Beryl, one of the favorite halfling doxies atBottom of the Jugpasses by the table. He hooks her waist and drags her onto his lap, her ample breasts bouncing as she falls. Where I would’ve bitten him had he tried that move on me, sweet Beryl titters. And she keeps laughing as his hand vanishes beneath the skirt she keeps shirred in the front to reveal her shapely legs.
“We’ll get that to you in a bit.” Sybille physically tugs me back, but I plant my feet when the pungent aroma of roses drifts into my nostrils.
Like a serpent scenting blood, Catriona glides toward the prince. Unlike the other professionals, she’s a courtesan. In other words, instead of coppers, she charges silvers, and instead of parading around half-naked, she doesn’t exhibit her wares until paid.
Her bejeweled nails scrape over the white uniform that hugs Dante’s muscled chest, over the gold trim of his standing collar. “Welcome home, Altezza.”
Although I admire Catriona for having made her own way, at the present moment, I want to tighten the lace choker she’s matched to her burgundy gown.
Sybille’s fingers dig into my waist in warning. Good thing I have no magic, or my mind would’ve carried a pitcher of water and upturned it over the courtesan’s glossy blonde locks.
Dante plucks Catriona’s roaming hand and tows it off. “Catriona.”
My anger cools.
Although she’s been with most of Luce, I know for a fact that she hasn’t been with the prince because her mouth is as loose as her limbs. Sometimes, I’m surprised men and women still want to bed her considering her propensity for gossip, but she’s considered the very best in Luce, and pure-bloods deem they deserve only the best.
I slide my teeth together as she whispers something into Dante’s ear that commandeers his full attention and carries his gaze to their clasped hands. He may not have wanted to be petted, but apparently, he doesn’t mind touching her.
