With commendable effort, I refrained from rolling my eyes. “Why a wolf? Do you feel a kinship with wild beasts?”
“In more ways than one.” He winked. Then, to make his point, he tilted his head back and unleashed a resounding howl.
“What is wrong with you?” Tarben scolded. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Enough to get me roped into a conversation with Helvig and his conspiracy theories about Edmere trading with Amaros. Twenty minutes of my life I’ll never get back. I had to make up a drinking game.”
“Helvig played a drinking game with you?” Tarben asked, eyes narrowed.
“Fuck no! But he said, ‘turncoats’ enough times to get me good and soused. Speaking of which,” —he turned his attention back to me— “you’re empty.”
He summoned a passing servant carrying a tray of drinks by raising his bandaged hand. Thrusting a goblet of wine into my grasp he said, “Drink up sweetheart, or your hosts will think you’re not having a good time.”
I was about to make a comment about his embarrassing accident at the tavern, when Tarben interjected.
“Stop being a bastard. Why are you here, anyway?” He crossed his arms, looking visibly irritated at his friend’s intrusion.
“Oh that,” Magnus said unabashedly. “We’ve been summoned. Your father wants to speak with us.”
At that, Tarben looked all the more annoyed as he gritted out, “And you didn’t think to tell me that until just now?”
“Slipped my mind.” Magnus shrugged.
“I’ll come find you again soon,” Tarben promised. “Come on.”
He grabbed Magnus by the arm and pulled him away, but not before the latter turned and crooned, “I’ll make sure he saves you a dance.”
“Ass,” I muttered under my breath while shooting him a sarcastic smile. I drank from my goblet and scanned the room once more.
Soon, I spotted a figure I recognized. Amalie was wearing a satin mask embellished with feathers to match her sunshine-colored gown. She was dancing with a boy who looked to be a couple of years her senior. Catching my eye, she waved excitedly, before being twirled and switching to a new partner.
At his throne, the king was having an in-depth discussion with Tarben, Magnus and a man who I’d never seen before. With my preternatural hearing, I picked up from a nearby couple that he was the captain of the Royal Guard—Hansen, they said his name was. His unmasked face looked serious, but the king seemed unbothered by whatever it was that was troubling the captain.
On the other side of the room, a bored-looking Hugo had removed his mask and, drink in hand, was muttering something to a member of the Royal Guard with a lean build and warm brown skin. The guard, who adopted a wide stance with both hands behind his back, nodded faintly at whatever the princesaid.
As if my stare had summoned him, Hugo and I locked eyes. Instantly, his facial features rearranged themselves into an expression that could have wilted every flower in the room.
Too stubborn to look away, I maintained eye contact with him, chin slightly raised. After what felt like an age, he dropped his glare, returning to his conversation with the guard.
Unable to hide my smirk, I continued to watch the people around me drink and dance, slowly losing their inhibitions as the evening unfolded.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” came a vaguely familiar lilt.
Flames of Erasure, spare me.My good mood quickly evaporated at the sight of Oriane, flanked by two haughty ladies. Wearing a gold and emerald mask to match the emerald dress that showed off her perfectly curved figure, she looked striking.
“Lady Oriane,” I said, offering her the kind of smile I reserved for my enemies: wide and bright, with eyes that promised ruination. “I’m certainly finding amusement in this evening, thank you for asking.”
“Indeed?” As usual, her voice was honey but her words were darts. “Only, I couldn’t help but notice that you have spent most of the evening alone. You must be easily amused.”
Her companions snickered and I saw red, but I would not let her know she had hit her mark. Canting my head, I showed them my teeth. “You know what they say, quality over quantity.”
She pretended to look scandalized. “You don’t mean to say that you think yourself above every person in attendance tonight?”
Taking a slow sip of my wine, I lazily dragged my gaze to the crowded dance floor, as if their company bored me. “Not everyone. But certainly above the desperation that masquerades as sophistication.”
“You and I have vastly different notions about what is considered sophisticated, I’m sure. Speaking of which, your accessory, much like yourself, is looking quite lonesome.” She inclined her head towards the aster in my hand. This was followed with more cackles from her companions.
“Oh this?” I asked innocently, holding up the flower. “Like the mask I’m wearing, it was given to me by Prince Tarben. He really is quitegenerous.” I smiled sweetly. Petty as it may be, I relished the way her face dropped at my words. Oriane was right: Iwaseasily amused.
