“The fact that you don’t understand is exactly the point,” Elowen said with spirit. “You’re too sure of me, Theo. Usually a man has to try at least a little to secure himself a wife.”
“Am I not trying hard enough for you?” he demanded, jaw clenched. “Competing in your hollow tournament, dealing with open disrespect and derision from your court, keeping quiet about your clandestine habits with servants.”
Anger and mortification mingled freely in Elowen as she drew in a sharp breath. Some part of her was glad that Theo was at least showing emotion, but it was all so difficult in such a public place.
“Evidently you truly were upset from the start that the tournament isn’t real,” he went on. “You felt the need to create your own competition.”
“It’s not like that,” Elowen protested, but the song was ending, and the dropping music required them to stop the conversation abruptly.
“Thank you for the dance.” Theo bowed stiffly and retreated before she could get a word in, the musicians not even finished winding down.
Elowen watched him go, her fists balled into her skirts. Stubborn, infuriating icicle, with his unwavering stride and his closed-off heart. She had too much dignity to run after him, but her feelings demanded release. Feeling reckless, she used the cover of the few couples still completing the dance to execute one graceful, solitary spin. Her full skirts fanned around her, providing plenty of movement to work with. She snatched up the magic, shaping it even as she walked with apparent unconcern toward the punch table. Without any further movement, she threw the sloppy enchantment in Theo’s direction, causing the decorative carpet he was passing over to pull up slightly under his feet.
The stately prince stumbled, and Elowen felt a stab of triumph. Not so perfect and impenetrable after all. Theo slowed his pace, glancing around. His eyes narrowed in suspicion as he found her watching him defiantly, and she didn’t try to hide her silent challenge.
Her moment of satisfaction was short-lived, however. The sight of the storm raging on his face stripped away any sense of victory. She’d been glad he was showing emotion, but she hadn’t meant to inflict on him the turmoil she saw there. If only he would open up to her.
Distracted, Elowen failed to see Bertrand’s approach until it was too late to refuse him the next dance without open rudeness. Inside, she was festering with frustration as she followed him onto the dance floor, her thoughts on Theo on the far side of the room, with very little attention to spare for her partner.
Maybe Bertrand sensed it, because his manner as he led her into position was more aggressive than usual. No doubt he was annoyed about having been supplanted, given he was usedto being the highest-ranking unmarried man in the room, and unchallenged in his right to open the dancing with the princess.
“Your steps aren’t as light as usual tonight, Princess,” he said shortly, as Elowen moved correctly but not very gracefully through the opening motions of the dance.
She didn’t reply. It was a different type of dance, one which had them cycling through many different partners and didn’t allow for much private speech. Bertrand’s irritation was evident every time she swirled away from him, but to Elowen, it was a relief. Her eyes kept drifting to Theo, who wasn’t taking part in the dance. He was brooding by a refreshments table, looking anywhere but at her.
The dance felt interminable, but finally the instruments slowed.
“Thank you,” she said coolly to Bertrand.
“You look tired,” Bertrand said. “I imagine you’ll want refreshments.”
“I—yes, all right, a drink would be welcome,” Elowen said, hoping he would go to get it and leave her in peace.
Instead, he kept hold of her arm as he steered her across the room.
“An excellent innovation of Her Majesty’s,” he said pleasantly. “Having a refreshments table with cool drinks in the garden. When so many young ladies get overheated from dancing, a chance to cool down out of the heat of the ballroom is perfect.”
As he spoke, he moved steadily toward the far end of the room, where a few floor-to-ceiling windows showed glimpses of the gardens beyond, illuminated by softly glowing lanterns. The two outside windows had glass doors in their lower sections.
“Drinks in the garden?” Elowen repeated, bewildered. “We’ve never done that before. I don’t think that’s the case.”
“Of course it is,” Bertrand said smoothly, opening one of the glass doors and ushering her outside. “Come and see for yourself.”
Elowen glanced back, but she couldn’t see Theo anymore. She couldn’t really see anyone of note, her view blocked by the many couples still crowding the dancing space.
Her skirts swished their way through the narrow door, and she took a few paces onto the stone platform beyond, frowning around it. The area was empty of either ball-goers or tables, the smooth stone giving way to shallow steps down into an open garden.
“As I said.” She turned to Bertrand, who’d appeared at her side. “No refreshments.”
He laughed, putting a guiding hand on the small of her back. Elowen stepped away in annoyance, retreating down a few steps to get out of his reach.
“Of course not, Princess,” Bertrand said. “It was just an excuse to get you alone.”
A rush of anger went over Elowen. “You’re over the line, Bertrand,” she said hotly.
The infuriating viscount laughed again, his tone still indulgent. “No need for the act, Princess. I heard what you said to Sophia earlier, about wanting to be pursued.”
There was a glint in his eye that Elowen didn’t like, and her heart gave an uncomfortable lurch. She cast a surreptitious look around, realizing that he’d been strategic in every movement. Without her realizing it, he’d herded her down the steps in a direction that meant they were no longer in clear view of the window into the ballroom. She knew there were guards posted at the outside entrances to the garden, but none were positioned just outside the ballroom. Had anyone noticed her going outside?
