For some foolish reason, this knowledge upsets me. I can’t tell if I am envious that she gets to see this side of him or betrayed that she didn’t confide in me. I would have supported her. She deserves to be happy. Even if it is with the worst person alive.
I stab my fork into the closest grape, spearing it like a fish out of water.
“Easy,” Ender drawls. “It’s not going to run away.”
“Just picturing your head,” I mutter.
“What was that?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I say sweetly.
His eyes narrow, but he thankfully doesn’t press the point. Mercy would not threaten him with bodily harm.
The orchestra begins a lively tune, right when we put down our cutlery. Ender offers me his hand, and I reluctantly take it. All this touching has been distracting. The entire night, his hand has remained on my waist or folded tightly in my palm. It confuses and comforts me.
The guests circle the floor, carrying flutes of wine and gazing at us in interest.
“We get First Dance,” Ender says, leading me to the center of the room.
“No,” I say, digging my feet in. I am aterribledancer. “Maybe your moth?—”
Ender does not listen to my protests and continues to haul me to the floor.
“Let go of me!” I say between clenched teeth.
“Don’t make a scene,” he hisses.
“You’re the one forcing me to dance against my will.”
“It is tradition.”
“I don’t give a damn about tradition,” I say. An idea strikes me. “Oh, look, it’s a bird.”
Ender glances to the ceiling, and I make use of his loosened grip to dash into the crowd. His arms wrap around me before I make it far, drawing me back into his embrace.
“Nice try,” he says. “You’re not fast enough.”
“I can’t believe you fell for that. You’re so stupid.”
Ender’s mouth tightens in displeasure. Even he can’t believe it worked.
His hand settles on my waist as if it belongs there. His touch is firm, and for a heartbeat, I forget how to breathe.
“Unhand me,” I whisper. “Please, Vale. Don’t make me do this.”
Ender leans in, his mouth close enough that his words warm my skin. “I’ll guide you. I promise I won’t let you make a fool of yourself.”
I glare up at him. “You’re a monster.”
“And yet,” he says softly, “here you are accepting my offer.”
“I have no choice in this, and you know it.”
Ender’s perfect mouth tilts in amusement. His eyes are sparkling.
A stark contrast to how reserved and withdrawn he was a few minutes ago.
The music swells, and a soft, longing tune fills the room. Couples part to make space for us, a ripple of attention following in our wake. The pressure is suffocating; my lungs constrict painfully, noticing all the eyes on me. I can see Mercy watching us. Beside her are Spider and Rei. Knox and Flint remain at the table, stuffing their faces with food.
