“It’s different with us,” he said.
“And why is that? Because you’re the prince?”
“No.” He gripped her hand tight, dipping her back low so that his mouth was near her throat. “Because I can’t have you, and they can.”
Rinka shuddered, her mind filling with images of what it would mean for him to “have” her.
There was truth to what he said, in theory. She could marry one of the men on her dance card. Even if they knew who shereally was, knew she was a commoner, it wasn’t unheard of. There was every possibility that someone would fall in love with her and not even care about her lie or her station or the ruse with the prince or any of it.
But marriage on the table or not, she knew they could not have her. Not really.
“No, they can’t,” she admitted, her heart in her throat. He turned her again in time with the music, and when she returned to face him, she was dizzy.
“You already have me,” she whispered, her voice breathless.
He moaned and dipped his head dangerously close to hers, gripping her even tighter to him.
Maybe it wasn’t forever, but for now, she was his.
“Meet me at midnight,” he said, his lips pressed close to her ear. “By the stables.”
She nodded, scarcely daring to breathe for fear that the movement might make her implode.
The ball was still going at midnight, although with all of the dances from the dance card completed, the crowd had thinned somewhat as guests began to take their leave.
Rinka had given the tango to Idris after all, apologizing to Mr. Herrington for double booking and promising him the final polka. She begrudgingly admitted Idris had been right about the dance: it was far too intimate to have been shared with anyone else, at least in her present state of mind.
He had slipped away during the final dance, Rinka spotting him exiting onto the balcony as she pretended to laugh at Mr. Herrington’s jokes. Mr. Herrington was actually quite funny, but Rinka’s mind was elsewhere entirely.
She finally managed to make her own escape after one last conversation with Princess Chloe, who had spotted her dancingwith Idris and wanted to share with her what a lovely pair they made. Rinka was flattered, and she felt an ache in knowing that it was all just temporary, that there would be no stay with Idris’s aunt in her town home come autumn.
A refreshingly cool breeze blew on the balcony of the manor. There were others out here, some enjoying quiet conversation, others walking arm in arm in the moonlit gardens, waiting for a moment to steal away from watchful eyes.
The air was heavy with fragrance as Rinka made her way to the stables: the sweet scent of honeysuckle; the bright scent of freshly cut grass; the soft, sensual smell of jasmine; and the varied aromas of a dozen different roses, some fruity and light, others dense and ancient with hints of myrrh. It was an intoxicating bouquet, and when combined with the soothing, pulsing rhythm of the crickets and cicadas, it made Rinka feel as if she’d slipped into a dream.
She was pulled out of it by the sound of someone crying on the other side of a hedge.
Rinka paused, uncertain of what to do. There were no other voices around, no signs of movement. The sobs were quiet, with no obvious signs of distress. It was possible that whoever was crying had come out here to be alone with their sorrow and their thoughts, and that Rinka’s intrusion would not be welcome.
And then there was the fact that Idris was waiting for her, and that she both desperately wanted to meet with him and didn’t want to disappoint him by being late.
Rinka sighed. She couldn’t leave whoever it was alone without checking to see if she could help. It just wasn’t in her nature.
“Sorry, Idris,” she muttered under her breath as she went around the hedge.
There, seated on a low bench on her own, was Princess Ceri.
The princess coughed, choking down a sob and standing upright as Rinka approached.
“I’m fine,” she said. And then: “Oh, it’s you.”
“Your highness,” said Rinka, curtsying to the princess. “Do you need any assistance?”
“No,” said Ceri. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
Rinka didn’t really want to talk to her either. Princess Ceridwen had been nothing but rude to her since their first meeting. She was just about to turn to leave when the princess let out another sob.
Ceri tried her best to conceal it. “Go away,” she said. “I’m fine.”
