Chapter 14
Since Khiran andLisca had caused him to lose his bet with Reyn, Velario considered it only fair to force them to come to the opera with him. Khiran grumbled and tried to drag Del and Roena along, too, but they had plans for the evening Velario had secured a box seat. Velario liked the idea of more people, so he corralled Selona and Danten into coming instead. He needed the others to provide a buffer within the dark, intimate confines of the box. It would help him remember that his courtship of Reyn was entirely a ruse.
He always remembered the courtship was fake, actually; it was the intimacy that was messing with him. Spending so many hours pressed against Reyn from shoulder to hip, he was becoming too comfortable wrapping her in his arms. He didn’t even have to think about it; his arms went around her naturally.
And when she challenged him, and her voice went low and sultry, he struggled to remember that he had no reason to kiss her.
When the opera started, however, he saw that he had not needed to make the effort of ensuring he had other people around to keep him on his best behavior. Reyn didn’t spare him so much as a glance, leaning forward in her seat, listening to the story unfold with an expression of joy on her face.
Velario spent the first act studying Reyn rather than the stage. Her enjoyment of the music was captivating. She wasn’t putting on an act, and though her expressions were more subtle than he was used to from her, they were also far more genuine and—he wasn’t sure how this was even possible—more alluring. Her lips parted slightly when a soprano trilled her highest notes. She let her eyes drift nearly shut when the tenor sang his aria. She savored every moment.
When the intermission came and lights slowly brightened, Velario jerked his gaze away, before anyone caught him staring at her.
He was supposed to play the part of a man besotted, not actually be besotted. Not that he was. He still wasn’t sure he even liked Reyn.
Velario stood up. “I’ll fetch us refreshments.”
After exchanging a look with Lisca, Khiran stood as well. “I’ll help you.”
The rest of the party made it clear they planned to remain in the box, and Velario escaped into the halls of the theater with only Khiran at his side.
“Don’t,” he warned Khiran when the other man opened his mouth. “I don’t want to hear it. I’ve already had to deal with Danten’s teasing.”
Khiran chuckled. “I’m sure I don’t have to say anything, then. He’ll have done the job thoroughly. Lisca and I have a bet going, though, so do tell: is this serious, or just a fling while Reyn is in Lhanaperi?”
“You are betting against Lisca about people’s emotions?”
“No, I have a bet with her about whether you or Reyn will admit your emotions.”
Velario should refuse to tell Khiran. Barring that, he should claim he was falling for Reyn—lie, in other words. But this was Khiran, and his words would go no farther than Lisca. Telling one version of the truth would not risk their scheme for stopping the counterfeiters. Besides, Lisca was an empath. No doubt she already realized there was something missing in Velario’s courtship of Reyn.
“Tell your lovely wife she wins. My time with Reyn will only be temporary.”
“Who said she was betting against?”
But . . . she was the one who channeled their emotions. Velario turned sideways so as not to bump into one of the many opera attendees in search of refreshments and remembered that Lisca sensed all emotions in a crowd with no way of knowing whose was whose. The gathering tonight was the most intimate he and Reyn had both been at with Lisca since the start of their subterfuge. No doubt Lisca’s power extended beyond their box, too. So in reality it was no more intimate than the ball as far as her it pertained to her magic. She was guessing, assigning the emotions from others to him.
Realizing he had stayed silent for too long, Velario pointed at a spot that had opened up near a table covered in flutes of champagne. “Either way, it’s temporary.”
He and Khiran each snagged three glasses of champagne and made their way back to the box. It was a relief when they reached the hallway outside their destination, for fewer people were around to jostle them and spill the drinks. Three doors down from their box, Velario paused because he heard Reyn’s name.
The next door down wasn’t latched and the conversation from the other side came through clearly enough, for the men speaking were anything but discreet. Velario recognized Enzi’s voice right away.
“She’s nothing but a whore,” the Sablon heir said. “She spreads her legs for whatever man has the best title. As if Velario is better than me. She thinks because King Stavo is a Ferrini that he’ll be the next king. But she’ll see. Mark my words, the Ferrinis won’t be in power for long, and when I’m elected, she’ll regret that she didn’t spread her legs for me instead.”
“Will you take her when she abandons Velario?” Arvin said—of course he was with Enzi.
“Certainly. She’ll be warming my bed before the season is done. But I will not marry her after this.”
Velario’s vision went hazy at the edges. He looked over and saw Khiran waiting at the door of their own box, his hands now empty. Velario stormed over to him, shoved the three remaining glasses in the other man’s hands, not caring how they splashed with his rough movements, and pivoted back around.
He shoved the door of Enzi’s box open hard enough to have it slam against the wood-paneled wall. Five men looked up at him in surprise.
“I think you have the wrong box,” the youngest slurred.
“No, I have exactly the right box.” Velario stalked over to where Enzi sat. The other man scrambled to his feet. Velario took full advantage of the fact that he could loom over him and didn’t stop until they stood toe to toe. “You will not so much as speak Lady Reyn’s name, Sablon. You’ll certainly never touch her. You’ll beg for a measly smile from her once she is my queen. And if Ieverhear that you have spoken of her like that again, I will ruin you so thoroughly that your great-great-grandchildren will still be trying to claw back a little of the power your Family once had.”
With his final words, Velario jabbed Enzi in the chest with his finger. He didn’t punch him; he didn’t slap him. But he took great pleasure in making him lose his balance and fall into his seat with that simple gesture. Velario didn’t wait for anyone to figure out how to respond. He turned and walked back into the hall and turned toward his own box.
