The two women behind her chuckled softly.
This was not helping. Eliarde couldn’t attack Ilandra Bors directly, not without issuing a formal challenge and disrupting the joedurar, which would bring Sauven’s wrath down on her head, but she sure as hell could attack me. As far as she was concerned, I was a nobody.
Eliarde pivoted to me.
Yep, just as I thought.
“You still haven’t answered my question.” Every word dripped with menace. “Who—”
“Lady Maggie,” a deep rumbling voice said behind her.
Eliarde spun out of the way. Lord Bellen looked at me. His colors were blue and white, and his clothes were cut like Everard’s, armor replicated in cloth and leather with exquisite detail. His white doublet clasped his frame, widening already huge shoulders. A stunning inlay of pale blue curved across his chest, accented with gold. His sky-blue cloak dripped from his left shoulder. He looked enormous, his blond hair nearly glowing in the light of the enchanted chandeliers.
Everyone stared at us. Suddenly we were the focal point of the room.
“Lord Arvel,” Eliarde gasped.
Please no. No, no, no . . .
He was looking at me. “My lady, you’ve made me the happiest man in Rellas by accepting my invitation.”
Some woman behind Eliarde made a choking noise.
You have got to be kidding me. What the actual fuck?
Arvel leveled a stare at Eliarde. It was flat, heavy, and cold. She took two steps back. He turned to me.
“I have been so looking forward to our reunion.”
I needed morr beads. Or a drezmur. I needed to not be here.
He bowed. Bellen—Arvel—wasbowingto me.
Eliarde’s eyes were as big as saucers. Lady Bors would need a crane to lift her jaw off the floor.
“Will you grant me the honor of a dance?”
Oh fuck me.
He held out his hand.
All around us people went quiet. I had no choice. None at all.
“The honor is mine, my lord.”
I rested my fingers on his. His hand swallowed mine, and he led me onto the dance floor.
The first notes of a polhe floated in the air. I took up the position, moving on autopilot. Thank you, Erodel.
Arvel was looking at me like I was a delicious snack.
Twice. Kair Toren had done this to me twice. First, Everard, then him.
We stepped forward in unison, beginning the first set of movements.
“You sent me the invitation.”
“Guilty as charged.”
