Chapter 16 #2
My fingers twitched with the urge to sign something that would make a courtier like him crawl into a hole. Instead, I smiled—small, cold, unamused. “Maybe you shouldn’t wager on things you don’t understand.”
His head tilted, the motion lazy, appreciative. “Oh, I understand more than you think.” His tone dropped a note lower, smooth enough that nearby courtiers leaned closer, pretending not to listen. “The prince’s taste has always been… surprising. But then, a man learns best from his mistakes.”
I lifted a brow, signing slowly, each movement deliberate. “And which am I—his upgraded taste or his continued mistake?”
He chuckled again, quiet enough that it felt private even in the crowded room. “Perhaps both. The line between them is thin, don’t you think?”
Heat crept up my neck before I could stop it—irritation, not embarrassment.
My pulse ticked in my throat. I signed fast, the movements cutting and deliberate.
“Are you trying to insult me, or is your head so far up your own perfectly powdered ass that you don’t realize when you’re being an asshole? ”
For a heartbeat, he just stared. Then his laughter broke low and genuine, too quiet for the tables around us but bright in his eyes.
“Saints,” he murmured, grin widening, “no wonder he’s keeping you close. You might be the first person in this castle brave enough to talk to me like that.”
“I’m not brave,” I replied. “Just unimpressed.”
His laughter deepened, smooth and pleased. “Then allow me to try something a little less polite.”
The tone of his voice shifted—still soft, but darker, more deliberate. “You know, the Court’s been buzzing since the Hunt. But not about you, for once.”
My brows lifted before I could stop them, and I hated that he’d managed to catch me off guard.
Tobias’ smile didn’t change, but his eyes narrowed, observing me the way a cat contemplates a cornered mouse. “They say the prince lost his temper.”
I froze.
He went on, almost gently, his fingers following his words.
“Word is, he beat a man within an inch of his life and gutted another outright—simply for disparaging your good name.” He sipped his wine like it was nothing.
“I wish I could call it idle gossip, but I watched it with my own eyes. I imagine the servants are still mopping.”
My throat went dry. The air around us seemed too thin.
“I hadn’t realized you’d come to this little affair so soon after,” he added, voice dropping low. “I suppose it’s good for him to be seen smiling again, though the rest of us have learned to watch our tongues.”
He glanced toward the wide double doors where Kieran had exited. “He’s been… volatile, lately,” Tobias murmured, eyes returning to mine. “Perhaps your presence steadies him.”
It wasn’t a compliment. It was a probe.
I forced a smile, shallow and cold. “Or maybe he just likes a challenge.”
Tobias chuckled quietly, but his gaze lingered on me a moment too long. “Saints, he does love those.”
That, at least, we have in common. The thought slithered through my head before I realized it wasn’t mine. Tobias’ mental voice was as smooth as his smile, and it chilled me to the bone.
His continuous laughter rolled quiet and low, the kind that drew curious glances from nearby tables. He didn’t care who saw him. He was enjoying this—the sparring, the spectacle, me.
He was still smiling when the temperature in the room seemed to drop.
“Tobias.”
The voice came from behind me, smooth and controlled, but the tone underneath it carried teeth.
Kieran.
He stood at my shoulder, posture loose, expression calm—but there was nothing calm about the tension coming off him. It rolled from him like heat off stone.
Tobias turned, all charm. “Your Highness.”
“I see you’ve met my companion,” Kieran said. His smile was polite; his eyes were not.
“Indeed,” Tobias replied. “We were discussing Court manners. I seem to have lost mine.”
“Easily done,” Kieran said. “Some of us never find them again.”
Tobias chuckled softly, unfazed, but I caught the warning beneath it. “You always did appreciate a woman with a sharp… tongue.”
“Only when it’s deserved.” Kieran’s voice stayed smooth, but the words carried weight.
Tobias raised his glass in mock salute. “Then I’ll consider myself flattered.”
Kieran’s hand brushed my shoulder—light, but the contact set my pulse jumping. His smile never wavered. “You’ll excuse us,” he said. “She promised me the next dance.”
Tobias inclined his head with a Court-perfect bow. “Then by all means. I’d hate to stand between the prince and his latest distraction.”
The word “distraction” landed like the flick of a whip.
Kieran’s hand tightened fractionally against my back. “Of course you would.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. His fingers slid down my arm, firm and insistent, and before I could think of an excuse—or a reason not to—he’d already taken my hand.
The musicians sensed it instantly, shifting into a slower melody. The crowd parted, eager to watch the show: the brooding prince and the silent girl from the Divide, stepping together into the light.
Kieran’s hand settled at the small of my back, steady and hot through the thin silk. His other clasped mine, the contact burning in a way I hated to remember.
Tobias’ words lingered in the back of my mind: He beat a man within an inch of his life and gutted another outright—for you.
It wasn’t the killing that haunted me. I’d watched it happen before. I’d seen his blade flash and the blood follow. I’d felt his body shield mine while teeth and claws tore through the dark. We’d both killed for each other. That wasn’t it.
What I couldn’t stop thinking about was the “why.”
Did he strike for survival—or because someone dared to touch what he’d claimed?
“Enjoying yourself?” he murmured, voice pitched low for me alone.
I kept my eyes fixed past his shoulder. If I could have signed, I’d have asked if he always mistook fury for fun.
His thumb brushed the back of my hand, a barely there apology—or a warning. “You shouldn’t have been alone with him,” he said.
My answer stayed locked behind my teeth, but I didn’t need words. I let my steps shift half a beat out of sync—enough to make him adjust. His hand tightened instantly, correcting me, drawing me closer.
Control, always control.
He bent his head slightly, his breath warm against my temple. “He’s just as dangerous as the rest of us,” he said quietly. “Flattery isn’t always what it looks like.”
I tilted my chin up, meeting his gaze at last. He didn’t blink. Neither did I.
Then what was last night? I wanted to ask. Protection—or possession?
The music swelled, and Kieran’s hand slid higher on my back, holding me there. To anyone watching, it looked graceful, effortless. Only we knew it was war.
The music slowed to a hush, the waltz winding around us like a trap. Kieran’s hand fit against the small of my back, guiding every step, every breath. To the Court, we were perfect—graceful, poised. Inside, I was shaking.
He leaned in, his lips brushing the edge of my hair, the movement calculated for appearance’s sake. “You’re angry,” he murmured, low enough that only I could hear.
I didn’t answer. The rhythm carried us through a turn, skirts whispering, the hall spinning gold.
“I deserve it,” he said after a beat, voice rougher. “For last night.”
That startled me—not the admission, but the fact that he’d said it at all.
He drew me close again, his breath brushing my ear. “You think I left because it meant nothing. I didn’t.”
The words were quiet, fragile things, and I hated how badly I wanted to believe them.
He guided me into another step, the pressure of his hand steady, grounding. “I didn’t trust myself to stay,” he said quietly. “You were shaking. Bleeding. I didn’t know how to touch you without…”
He stopped, breath catching, then steadied. “I cleaned the glass. Brought food. You were still in the bath.”
The words tumbled out low, almost as if he hadn’t meant to say them. “When you finally slept, I stayed for a while. You didn’t wake.” His hand shifted at my waist, a subtle, useless apology. “I didn’t want you to.”
The air felt heavier. Every word landed like the ghost of his hand on my skin—careful, aching, full of things neither of us should want to name.
He turned me once more, voice rough at the edges. “I thought leaving would make it easier. For you. For me.”
The corner of his mouth twitched—not quite a smile, not quite pain. “But you don’t make anything simple.”
The words landed like a weight against my chest.
He looked down at me then, his eyes impossibly dark. “You don’t deserve how I’ve treated you. I’m sorry.”
For a moment, everything in me wanted to thaw. But I couldn’t. Not here. Not with Tobias’ voice still whispering between us: the prince lost his temper, all for you.
I kept my face still, perfect for the crowd, even as my pulse roared in my ears.
He guided me through the last turn, his fingers tightening once, just once, before he let go.
The applause came like thunder, meaningless and loud.
Kieran bowed, the image of a prince again, and when he straightened, his voice was a whisper against my temple. “You deserve better than me.”
Then he walked away.
And saints help me, I hated that I wanted to follow.