The dancing here was everything the formal party wasn’t. Upstairs had been rigid perfection: stiff arms, ramrod-straight backs, dancers moving in precise, beautiful formations. Political theater masquerading as a celebration.
Down here was the complete opposite. And so familiar to me that a longing for my childhood hit me so hard my heart stuttered. This was what a High Day was supposed to be—and friends celebrating the turning of the seasons, dancing however they pleased: pairs, solo, laughing groups that formed and scattered with the music. A circle of dancers clapped in the center, taking turns spinning into the middle to show off. This was what our celebrations had been like back home.
I wondered, not for the first time today, how Nana was faring. She had more friends among the villagers than I had—wasn’t hard, I’d only had her and Cormac—but she still didn’t have a large circle. I still had no idea how she had shifted from the grandeur of this life to the simple one we shared. Did she miss this at all?
Did she miss me?
Lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed the music shifting to an upbeat jig, everyone pairing up to romp in big circles around the room. Someone grabbed my arm and swung me into the pattern ofthe dance. I reflexively stiffened before surrendering to the movement, letting my cares float away and allowing laughter to bubble up as my partner grinned back. We pranced and skipped around the hall, swishing in and out of other couples.
As the song ended, he gave me a slight bow. “Thank you, my princess.”
Damn tiara. So much for anonymity.
Before I could think, another hand grabbed mine, pulling me into the next dance. I was passed from arm to arm—male, female, it didn’t matter down here. Only the music and laughter and spinning mattered. This was celebrating.
Sweaty and breathless, I extricated myself from the latest person who had been twirling me around. Like all the others, they gave me a slight bow of their head and murmured, “Princess,” but treated me like just another reveler. My carefully arranged hair had come loose, my formal gown was wrinkled, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this free.
Predictably, that was when they found me.
“Excellent. Is this where we’re celebrating Blathaine?” Finn asked, grabbing two glasses of the drink, handing one to Freya and downing the second.
“It’s whereI’mcelebrating,” I said, perhaps harsher than I had intended. Then again, maybe not.
Griff raised an eyebrow and sniffed my drink. “How much of this have you had?”
I glared mutinously at him, and he backed off, raising his hands in surrender.
“Not that I’m complaining,” Finn said, “but why are we down here and not upstairs?”
“Feel free to return. You looked like you were having fun.” I gave Griff a pointed look.
“What did I do to deserve—oh, fuck.” Understanding dawned on his face. “You saw Aine. Lexa, she?—”
Hearing her name on his lips was too much. I didn’t want hisexplanations or excuses. I wanted to keep the laughter and the buzz. I shoved my drink at Finn, who promptly drank it, and grabbed Freya’s hand, pulling her onto the dance floor. We were instantly swept up by various partners spinning us around. Freya knew the steps and executed them with grace while I stumbled through. I laughed, along with my various partners, every time they grabbed my hands and hips to guide me.
Finn followed, sweeping me into a rambunctious dance. We cavorted in time to the music, spinning in and out of the other dancers. Laughing, I was pushing my hair out of my face when a hand grabbed my elbow. I spun around to see who was next and looked into Griff’s eyes, more green than brown in this light. What I saw there made my breath catch and the buzz retreat.
“Will you walk with me?” he asked quietly, leaning in so I could hear him over the din.
I exhaled in a whoosh. The vulnerability in his eyes lessened my churning anger. He deserved to have his say, even if it confirmed my fears. That we were just friends. That I was just a job. That he wanted Aine. The bitch.
Moving his hand from my elbow to the small of my back, he guided me from the party and down a hall. His scent, that somehow always smelled of the ocean breeze, threatened to overwhelm me. When I stumbled—the alcohol, I told myself—he caught me instantly, his hand snaking around my waist to pin me to his side.
Finding an empty room that was little more than a closet used for storage, he released me as he pushed inside. I took a deep breath to try to get my heartbeat down. This time, I knew it was pointless to blame the stammering of my heart on the alcohol. I turned to face him as he shut the door and strode the two steps toward me, mask firmly in place, vulnerability gone. I felt the heat radiating off him and fought the urge to lean into it.
“Princess, there’s nothing between me and Aine, I promise you that. If you had stuck around, you would have seen me forcibly remove her and go take refuge with Finn.”
I sighed, pulling my sweat-soaked curls away from where they were sticking to my neck. “I just didn’t care to see her wrapped around you.”
“Well, I didn’t much care for watching Finn have you in his arms,” he bit out, mask slipping, a flash of fire in his eyes. “And every other man in the room grabbing your hips, twirling you around,” he added, as if an afterthought.
“I danced with women too.”
“Not any better.”
“I’m not sure why you care,” I fired at him. “Since you told Finn we’rejust friends.”
His eyes widened in shock before he could lock down his features. “I knew I felt you there,” he muttered.
