A phantom of poise, of grace, hidden in plain sight.
Perhaps Elva was right, a single night of elegance didn’t heal me, but it dulled the blade.
Duke’s hand steadied at my waist as we spun, our rhythm slipping from the orchestra’s command into something looser, unrestrained.
“You look different tonight,” he said, eyes alight.
We circled past Elva and Callum, the two of them locked in their own orbit, blind to everything else. Callum’s fingers had claimed her wrists the instant the crowd threatened to engulf her, and he hadn’t let go since.
Perseus had made his grand entrance, greeted his guests with a toast, danced with his bride, and then disappeared the moment the applause ended. Elva bore it with a laugh and a wry jest, her composure still dazzling the room.
“Well,” I smoothed a hand down the crisp cut of Duke’s jacket, “that’s hardly surprising. You’ve never seen me in a dress before.”
His laugh rolled deep, and still my eyes strayed, scanning the swell of bodies. Obrann had summoned every noble name within Luamis’ borders, and here they were. Each elegant, ravenous.
My stare caught on the Marquess and Marchioness of the Feyglades, their finery dyed the deep teal of the Tempest Tide they bordered. Those depths were no mere jewel of the realm; it was a graveyard, keeping its horrors chained far below.
Fitting, then, that Nezra had risen from those pits.
The Marquess had gone pale, his wife clutching jeweled fingers against her chest, as the man across from them let a wicked smirk curve across his face. The mysterious stranger stood with his back to me, offering only the imposing angles of his shoulders fixed beneath an obsidian coat.
“Well, that, yes,” Duke drawled. “But you seem more…free.”
I forced a swallow, answering lightly, “Oh, that’s definitely the wine.”
A servant weaved past, tray steady with crystal flutes. Our eyes caught, for a stolen moment, then her lashes dipped, and she hurried on. No one else noticed. But I did.
Mina. She looked…better.
“Maybe.” Duke slipped the glass from my hand. “Let’s go easy on that wine, yeah? How many have you had?”
The music dulled, thinning into the background as the crowd shifted, parting so I could see clearly as the man turned, his calculating jade eyes cutting straight through the room, locking onto me with precision.
The glass he held hovered near his mouth, then lifted in a deliberate toast. A godsdamn smirk pulled across his lips, before he drank, slow, savoring every drop, never once looking away.
My body stilled, venom tingling through my limbs, until it burned in my veins. The sour tang of the wine clung to my tongue as rage came easy, stirring awake, baring fangs against its cage.
What in the fated hel was he doing here?After the village, after everything—
“Have I lost you?” Duke’s voice crashed back, shoving focus back into my vision.
I blinked, but the dragon prince was gone, swallowed into the wave of royals as though he’d never stood there at all.
Laughter swelled again, the ballroom suddenly too loud, too false, too sharp against my skin.
“What?” I rasped.
Duke’s palm trailed the length of my arm. “The wine,” he said, nodding at my flushed cheeks. “How much have you had tonight?”
I stepped away, desperate for air, needing space. The music dragged me back in before I could escape as Duke caught my hand, spinning me once, twice, until I stumbled into his chest.
“Enough to twirl in endless circles,” I teased. “But not enough to want to fistfight anyone.” I jerked my chin toward the far side of the floor, where a Lord’s hand hovered too close to Elva as she swayed with Callum. “Yet.”
His laugh grazed my ear, his grip tightening around my waist. “Night’s still young.”
The floor tilted beneath me, my palm pressing to my forehead. Was I still spinning, or was the whole damned room?
“Water,” Duke said, steadying me. “Sounds like a solid idea. I’ll grab—”
