But he could never say any of that in front of his parents or anyone in the court. Not if he wanted to pull off his plan.
His gaze found Beatrice across the room yet again, and it took everything in him to keep his expression at a sneer rather than letting it soften. “I should go over there and remind the humans about their place.”
Leaving his father and brother to their wine and supercilious conversations, Benedict set aside his wine glass, which he had only pretended to sip, and made his way across the room.
Beatrice had wandered away from her family and was now speaking with a group of the other apprentice librarians around their age, including Rosaline, a daughter of nobles from the Court of Revels. She’d left that Court to become a librarian.
Tybalt, another apprentice librarian and the son of one of the other noble families in the Court of Knowledge, gestured toward where Benedict had entered with his family. “It will be good to have everyone returned from the war. Court functions have been dull without Benedict.”
Standing with her back to Benedict as she was, Beatrice snorted and gestured broadly. “Don’t you mean that court functions will be quite dull with him? He has, after all, only a half measure of wit.”
Benedict softened his steps, giving a slight shake of his head as Tybalt’s eyes widened. When he stood just behind Beatrice, he leaned close before he spoke. “And what does it say about you that you spend so much of your wit on me?”
Beatrice yelped and spun to face him, her pale skin flushing bright red. Her blue eyes flashed as she glared up at him. “Don’t sneak up on people like that! It isn’t polite.”
“Perhaps I have only a half measure of politeness to match my half measure of wit.” Benedict grinned. There had always been something so satisfactory about seeing that flush on her cheeks from her rising ire.
Not that he wanted to turn into the Benedict of old who tormented her. But maybe light teasing would still be all right.
The first strains of music flowed through the ballroom, lilting over the cacophony of voices filling the space.
Still grinning, Benedict held out his hand to Beatrice. “May I have this first dance?”
He couldn’t help the note of challenge that filled his voice or the edge that tilted his grin.
All the better to disguise the way his heart beat harder, his chest tightening, at the sight of her in that pink dress, her cheeks nearly the same color.
Beatrice glared at the smirking,blond-haired, far-too-handsome fae man, telling herself that her heart was pounding because of her anger and not because of the way he was looking at her. How dare Benedict return from prison and promptly request her first dance? This was her first court event since she’d come of age. It was supposed to be a triumph. A time to mingle with the court before joining the Library Revel in a few hours.
Not that dancing with Benedict would hurt any of that. His parents were powerful, after all.
But it would look like Benedict favored her and that she favored him. Which wasn’t the case. At all. They loathed each other and always would.
She should refuse. She really should.
Yet with the way he was annoyingly grinning at her, his hand stretched toward her, she found herself placing her hand in his, her chin going up as she glared back. “Very well.”
She couldn’t back down from him. To do so would make her weak in this little game the two of them had been playing since she’d been a ten-year-old human, newly come to the Fae Realm, and he’d been the twelve-year-old son of nobility allowed to run wild through the Library.
Perhaps neither of them had truly grown up past those early days.
Other fae couples joined them in the center of the black-and-white marble floor as the music built. Unlike human dances, there weren’t set steps for each dance. Instead, each coupleendeavored to match the music as they saw fit. It made for a wild, chaotic dance that was as much a competition—both between couples and within couples—as it was a dance.
A competition suited Beatrice just fine. She certainly wasn’t here for a romantic dance with Benedict, no matter how that smirk created heart-fluttering dimples in his cheeks or his golden hair draped across his forehead in a finger-tempting manner.
He swept her between the other couples, keeping his movements long and graceful rather than mimicking some of the wilder gyrations of the others.
Beatrice matched him step for step, not giving an inch even if she let him lead. Perhaps it was passive of her, letting him lead the dance rather than taking control herself. But she had always preferred to bide her time and let him make the first move rather than go on the offensive herself right away. All the better to lure him into making a mistake.
After a few seconds of dancing, Benedict’s bright blue eyes met hers, his gaze strangely searching. “Will you be participating in the Library Revel tonight?”
“Of course. But don’t get any ideas.” Beatrice scowled. “You would be the last man I’d bind myself to.”
That was the good part about the Revel. If it worked as it was supposed to, the Library and the magic of the Court and of Midsummer would funnel two people together who could potentially be a match. But each person had the right to refuse the binding.
Benedict snorted. “As if I’d marry you, even if the Library brings us together tonight. Besides, you’re assuming I’m even going to participate.”
“Aren’t you?” Beatrice raised her eyebrows at him before she spun, adding a few extra twirls before she ended back in his arms. Yes, she’d been hoping he wouldn’t. But now that he’dchallenged her, she couldn’t help but challenge him in return. “Missing a Revel of any kind seems unlike you.”
