Chapter 28 Lena
TWENTY-EIGHT
LENA
The smuggler bowed low at the waist, his dark curls falling to cover his eyes. “It is an honor to meet you, Your Majesty. And with your Fateweaver at your side”—Casimir glanced up, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips—“I am truly blessed.”
Lena’s pulse was pounding in her ears. She curled her fingers against the arm of her chair, nails scraping against the stone. She didn’t trust herself to speak.
“Thank you for coming all this way, Ambassador Korvus. I know you were expecting to meet with my father, but I do hope our talks will prove just as worthwhile.”
Casimir straightened to his full height. “As do I. I am … truly sorry for your loss.”
The smuggler’s words held none of his usual lightheartedness.
Instead, they were filled with the same pain as when he’d claimed Silah’s death was his fault.
The same pain Lena herself felt whenever she thought of her mother.
It was enough to soften some of Lena’s anger toward him, but she still regarded him cautiously from her throne, her magic itching toward his threads.
It seemed his words had softened something in Dimas, too. “Thank you. I’m afraid our peace talks will have to wait a few days whilst I get my affairs in order. I’ll have a room made up for you in the meantime. For tonight, however, I’d be honored if you remained at the ball as my guest.”
Casimir flashed the emperor a wolfish smile, the grief Lena had seen in him disappearing from one blink to the next. “I’d be delighted,” Casimir said. “In fact, I was hoping the Lady Lenora would honor me with a dance.”
Lena’s whole body went cold. She’d had a few lessons with Iska as part of her court training, but the acolyte had assured her she wouldn’t be expected to dance tonight; the Fateweaver was a divine figure, she’d said, and no one in the court would be bold enough to ask it of her.
But Casimir was not a member of Wyrecia’s court, and his proposal, like everything else about him, was just another part of whatever game he was playing.
A game Lena wasn’t willing to lose.
Dimas cleared his throat. “I’m afraid that—”
“I accept.” At Dimas’s wide-eyed stare, Lena forced a small, shy smile. “It’s the least I can do to show our commitment to an alliance with Verlond.”
It was a risk, but a dance was the only way she could think to get close enough to Casimir to demand answers from him without anybody hearing their conversation.
Besides, with the royal guards always watching her, she wasn’t likely to get another chance to speak with the smuggler alone.
If she wanted to know what he was up to, now was her best chance.
Dimas hesitated, his threads glistening around him.
Finally, he nodded. “My Fateweaver is right. Let this dance be the first step to a peaceful future between our empires.”
Casimir’s responding smile was all charm. He held his hand out to Lena, his eyes sparkling. “Shall we?”
Heart in her throat, Lena rose from her throne and took the smuggler’s hand.
His touch was warm and oddly grounding, just as it had been in the forest when their arms had brushed, but the tight set of Casimir’s shoulders was a stark reminder of how much things between them had changed.
He didn’t look back at her as he led her through the crowds to where the rest of the nobles were dancing.
Their threads flared, their curious eyes flicking between her and the Verlondian ambassador, but whatever they might have been whispering was drowned out as the musicians began a new piece, a slow, piercing lament that filled the ballroom.
Casimir came to a stop in the middle of the crowd, close enough for Dimas and Ioseph to watch over them, but far enough away that the movement of their lips would likely go unnoticed as they danced.
Casimir finally turned back around to face her, his dark eyes shimmering with an unspoken challenge.
The music swelled, and the smuggler gave a low bow before closing the space between them.
“Palace life suits you, Lenora,” the smuggler said, his tone mocking.
“I could say the same of you, Ambassador,” she snapped, heat spreading through her veins as he raised one hand, his open palm an invitation to place her own.
A traitorous shiver went through Lena as her hand came up to meet it, one that only deepened when the smuggler’s other hand settled gently on her lower back.
Keeping her expression impassive, Lena fell into step beside Casimir as he began to lead her in a dance, doing her best to pivot in place as gracefully as she could muster without tripping over herself.
She caught the hawk-like stares of the court as she twirled, feeling embarrassingly like a child playing at being a princess.
Her embarrassment quickly turned into irritation, however, when she noticed Casimir’s smug expression. Once she stepped out of her spin, she met his gaze again and asked him outright, “Was anything you told me true?”
Some of the amusement faded from Casimir’s eyes as they stepped apart and spun in place before coming together again. Arm encircling her waist, Casimir replied, “That’s a rather hypocritical question, don’t you think?”
Lena frowned, guilt twisting her stomach. She’d told him the truth. She just hadn’t told him all of it.
“You weren’t exactly forthcoming with me, either.” She wasn’t sure if the fresh wave of heat in her veins was from anger or the Fateweaver’s power. “If the Casimir I traveled to the Frozen Wastes with wasn’t an act, then why are you here?”
Casimir glanced over her shoulder to where Dimas and Ioseph were watching their every move. He dipped her over his arm, and when she came back up to meet him his voice was a whisper against her ear. “Not here. Is there anywhere we can talk in private?”
She frowned. A part of her wanted to tell him to go back to his life and leave her out of whatever game he was playing. To push him away like she had everyone else. But she was running out of choices, and she would need somewhere to go once her bond to Dimas was severed …
“There’s a small courtyard north of the palace, just off an unused prayer chamber,” Lena offered.
Casimir dipped his chin in acknowledgment. “Later tonight, then.”
She had so many more questions, but the music slowed and their dance came to its end.
Ioseph was already heading toward them, no doubt to promptly escort Lena back to her place beside the emperor.
Casimir must have noticed Ioseph, too, because he took a small step back, bowing low at his waist. “Your Worship.”
Lena gave a curt nod. “Ambassador.”
And then Ioseph was at her side, his expression stoic. There was a hint of suspicion behind his dark eyes, one that had Lena forcing what she hoped was an innocent smile as Casimir slid away into the crowd.
Lena fell into step beside Ioseph, letting him lead her back to the raised dais. Dimas was in conversation with Brother Dunstan, but he fell silent when she approached, his threads flickering. Suspicion speared through Lena’s chest. What are you hiding?
He was apparently wondering the same thing about her, because he asked, “Did the ambassador have anything interesting to say?”
Lena slid into her throne, the lie already on her lips. “He was mostly sharing what it was like in Verlond. It sounds … different.”
Milos, who had been lingering in the shadows the entire time, scoffed. “That’s putting it mildly. Heathens, the lot of them.”
The hunter glanced at her as he said the words. Lena fought the urge to bare her teeth at him. To show him just how much of a heathen she could be.
Dimas frowned, his threads flickering. “The Verlondians have different beliefs than us, but that does not mean we cannot find a way to peace.”
Lena felt a small thrill of satisfaction as Milos fell silent, slinking back into the shadows like a scolded mountain cat.
The prince’s declaration seemed strangely sincere, and combined with the tentative suggestion he’d given of finding a way toward helping the people of the Wilds, Lena couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps Dimas Ehmar wasn’t the tyrant his father had been.
Still, Lena wasn’t about to let her guard down around him.
She knew just what a Ehmar’s idea of “peace” looked like, and she wanted no part in it.
And if Casimir had meant what he’d said to her back in the trader’s hut, then neither did he.
She searched the room for him, but the smuggler had well and truly disappeared into the crowd.
Had he gone to enjoy the celebrations, as Dimas had insisted, or was he off playing yet another role in his arsenal, liaising with the other foreign dignitaries?
Lena couldn’t figure him out, and it infuriated and intrigued her all at once.
She’d made herself vulnerable by telling him about the courtyard.
Had put herself at risk of walking right into his trap.
And whether he was enemy or ally, tonight Casimir Korvus would reveal his true colors.
The smuggler appeared a bell after midnight.
Lena saw his threads before she saw him, as bright and beautiful as they had been the first time she’d met him.
The magic in her core began to stir, but Lena shoved it back down.
Casimir stepped into the courtyard a moment later, still wearing the same formfitting tunic he’d had on at the ball.
He smirked up at her, already lowering into a bow.
Lena took a step back, putting distance between them, her fingers twitching for her mother’s dagger or her bow. Casimir’s eyes tracked the movement. “As trusting as ever, I see.”
Lena forced her fingers to uncurl. “I’ll trust you when you give me reason to.”