That was enough to make Lord Niely fumble for words until he put on a conspiratorial look, leaning down a little, and whispered. “The captain isn’t of court upbringing either, just so you know. When we met in the army, we were both seventeen, and he’d already been there for years. The fact that he’s able to set one foot in front of the other on the dance floor, he owes to me and my generous tutoring lessons.” Niely flashed a grin, studying Lory’s relaxing features. “I don’t know how many hours I spent drilling thedondurainto him. Honestly, it’s a miracle he hasn’t squashed that lady’s toes yet.” The fact that he put on a joking tone didn’t hide the portion of pleasure talking shit about Khayrivven seemed to give him.
Forcing a halfhearted smile, Lory swallowed the insults burning on her tongue. Lory had known he’d grown up between soldiers rather than a loving family, that his life had been hard, but facing men like Niely every day—Lory didn’t need to glance over her shoulder at the Flame-born captain to know his steps were flawless and his dancing graceful, that he would be playing his part tonight as meticulously as he played the part of the cold instructor.
“So you two met in the Brestolyan army?” Lory prompted, letting Niely guide her to the back of the room, where a group of musicians played on a wooden stage, their lutes, neys, and harps sounding out the dondura, a simple dance most Dunaii learned during childhood—even on the streets. Even Lory had picked up the steps when she was little, observing people dancing in the market squares of the city, and Evven had soon proven to be the better dancer.
“Trained and fought together,” Niely confirmed with a hint of nostalgia as if he’d never seen better times. “That was when he used to get his hands dirty.” His forehead creased. “Since he transferred to theacademy”—he lowered his voice to a murmur—“I haven’t seen a speck of blood on him.”
Lory’s stomach folded into a knot at the image of any part of Khayrivven covered in blood. But her mind stayed vigilant, piecing together more about the sort of relationship the two of them must have had. Allies, friends, perhaps, until Khayrivven’s magic had shown and he’d been transferred to Ashthorn. The bitterness on Niely’s face told its own story—one of disappointment and hurt.
Curiosity pushed against her better judgement, urging her to unravel Khayrivven’s secrets rather than those she was here to collect, but she shoved back with all her might. This wasn’t about the man whose presence alone was enough to make her feel awake. This was about the unrest, about a mission which thankfully didn’t involve her needing to kill anyone.
“Did you fight in the Amrin Mountains together?” It was worth a shot. At least it would lead Niely toward the topic of the rebels without mentioning anything about their supposed activities in and around the city.
Niely stopped, guiding her in a small circle so she stood in front of him, and gave her a proud look. “Several times.” His eyes grew slightly distant, as if he reveled in the memories of slaughter. “When Falcrest and I fought together, no rebel stood a chance.”
Again, the tightness in Lory’s stomach intensified. It had taken Khayrivven weeks—months even—to share with her his guilt about fighting his own people, yet here Niely was, offering the man’s shame on a silver platter for anyone to pluck. Repulsive didn’t even begin to describe it.
“Fascinating,” Lory commented with as much cheer as she could fake without raising suspicion. “I’ve heard it’s a dangerous task. Only the best soldiers fight in the mountains.”
Instead of gobbling her praise up like sweet wine, Niely’s brows shot up. “Who told you that? Falcrest?”
For a moment, Lory’s thoughts froze.
How was an unsuspecting young woman with no military ties except for the captain who brought her to the dancesupposed to know about the Amrin Mountains and what happened there? Would she give too much away if she confirmed? Would she expose Falcrest?
As she stared up at Niely, waiting for him to start interrogating her, he boomed a laugh instead, earning a scolding glance from the lute player closest to the edge of the stage, where purple flowers sat in tall glass ceramic vases.
“Of course he would. He’s always one to boast about his achievements. Every Criu he killed, he sang a song about.”
That didn’t sound like Khayrivven at all, unless?—
When Lory turned her head, scanning the dance floor for Khayrivven, she found him in conversation with three new women, one more beautiful than the next. His hands hung casually by his hips, his mouth pulled into a half-smile and his brows raised as if anxious he might miss a word of whatever they were babbling.
Jealousy wasn’t a pretty look on Lory, she was certain, but there was no denying it was taking over her features.
As if he felt her gaze, Khayrivven’s head snapped to the side, eyes locking on hers for a moment before inclining his head at the three ladies, his shoulders shaking slightly as he chuckled.
Lory’s chest tightened, fire prickling beneath her skin.
As if that wasn’t enough, Niely studied her with the same pity. “Already replacing you, is he?”
It didn’t matter what the role Khayrivven played demanded, Lory told herself. What mattered was their mission. She had a target right in front of her, and Niely, at least, didn’t need more than a prompt to start talking.
“As you said,” Lory said with a half-smile of her own. “I haveyouto keep me company. You might as well entertain me with some more stories about the mountains. Is it as hot there as it is in Dunai? Is it crawling with rebels, or are they just using it as a base camp? I bet you’re a hero, just as the captain.”
Everything was recoiling inside of her as Niely offered a hand, gesturing at the dance floor with his chin, but Lory swallowed it down, made her hand lift and her fingers land in the man’s palm, and allowed him to draw her closer.
“Such flattery, Miss Vednis. One might think you have ulterior motives.” With a chuckle, he spun her and caught her with his arm, locking her into the perfect pose for the dondura.
Before her heart could stop, Niely started moving them across the dance floor at a quick pace, keeping her feet busy and her thoughts swirling. “I?—”
“I know,” he cut her off. “Just eager for a good boy who’ll guide you safely in your endeavors, am I right? But let me assure you, Khayrivven Falcrest is not that.”
Lory was about to tell him that she could handle a bad boy, and she didn’t need a man to guide her in anything, when Khayrivven appeared behind Niely’s shoulder, turning his dance partner away so he could lock eyes with her. A muscle feathered in his jaw as Niely’s grip tightened on Lory’s back as if to demonstrate he could do such guiding, and a warning flared in his expression that Lory wasn’t certain was meant for her or for Niely.
Blowing out a breath, Lory shook her head an inch, beaming up at Niely with her best smile. “Let’s not talkabout the captain. Tell me more about the rebels. Is it terrifying to fight them?”
Lory didn’t know much about war, but she knew that people fought best when they had something to fight for. Their own land and autonomy seemed like the best possible reason.
