“Lyra, your financial situation does not offend me.” The fall of his boots hit the floor as he walks. Each step closer to me like pulling a thread tighter between us until it’s harder to breathe.
Perhaps I’m far too transfixed by his authoritative nature. His power. Do all the other women feel like this?
He stops close to me, the candlelight flickering on his polished boots. “Look at me, Lyra.”
Taking a steady breath, I drag my gaze up his boots, his legs, to his vestand coat hugging his generous frame. Up to the soft waves falling over his shoulder, and the smooth cut jaw. Gentle curve of his lips, long nose, and…to those unearthly eyes.
I’m doing everything I can to settle the breath in my chest as I’m locked into his gaze.
“Your financial standing is the last thing that would ever affect my thoughts about you. But if you’re here because of it, because you only wish to better your family’s situation, you can stay as long as you’d like.”
“That’s kind of you. But I’m not here because of the money, Cyrus,” I whisper back.
He tilts his head to the side in genuine, soft curiosity. “Then why are you?”
I swallow before timidly confessing, “Because I think there might be something here worth more than all the gold in the realm. Something you can’t just…” I shake my head, losing my point entirely.
But a soft grin lifts his lips, like he understands it. Dipping his head, he says, “I’m glad to hear it then. That you are one of few who believe in more than just power and wealth.” He holds out a hand to me. “Admittedly, I was searching for you out there to ask you for the last dance. If you'll do me the honor. We don’t even have to wander outside of this room, if you do not wish to. Or…or if you want to be left alone, say the word, and I’ll go.”
“No,” I reply with a shy grin and bow before straightening and placing my hand in his. “I would be delighted. Though…I’m quite curious how you plan on a proper dance around the furniture.”
He chuckles. “I’ve been practicing dances within chalk-drawn lines since I could walk. If you can trust me, I’ll lead you so we won’t have any collisions.”
His hand floats out an inch from my waist. “May I touch you here?”
My grin widens as I nod, and he cups my side. Gently. Then he turns his attention to my hand in his. The quiet contentment in his face falls, and I nearly slip my hand off his to hide it.
“It doesn’t hurt,” I mutter. “Not anymore.”
He lingers on my bandaged hand for a few seconds before dragging his gaze back to my face. Shaking his head, he whispers, “I-...I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not.” Not sorry for saving Marcella by risking my own life. I would have been more sorry had I let her take the burns. The guilt would have eaten me alive.
He blinks, eyes falling off my face. “You must think me a monster for these trials.”
“I’ll admit I don’t understand it. But I won’t so easily jump to the conclusion you are.”
“And why not?” He looks up from the floor.
“Because I think there’s more. More to this than what I or the other women understand,” I whisper. “Why else would we have agreed to this entire situation before our memories were cleared?”
“I shouldn’t admit this to you…” He sucks in a long breath as he searches my eyes. “But I am uninformed about what the trials are. I wish they weren’t part of this process. But my hands are…” He shakes his head, looking at mine in his. “Tied.”
I tighten my fingers around his. Unable to ignore the cracks of pain shimmering underneath his composed demeanor. Like light shining from beneath a door. Hinting of something between us. I take a tiny step closer to him, resting my hand on his bicep.
He takes the cue, slowly leading me into a dance.
The music from out in the dining room is muffled, but somehow it makes it all the more beautiful. Softer, quieter. Then I realize, dancing in the reflection room with just him, away from the dazzling glitz and glamor, feels infinitely more intimate.
“Do you enjoy dancing?” he asks quietly after a few moments, as if worried to disturb the peace of this moment.
“I think so. From what I can remember. Though…I’m not as skilled in it.”
“I think you’re doing a lovely job.” He dips his chin down to our feet.
“Thank you, but you speak too soon.”
He chuckles, and pulls me in tighter for a spin. As I complete the turn and face him, he transitions us into a soft sway. “What other things did you do in your free time, aside from gardening? What sets your heart on fire?”
