NINE
“W aiting for someone to save you?”
I turned from the blue window to find Pholly, my gown whispering over the wood floor.
The revealing number had been delivered and hung in the doorway of Atakan’s dressing chamber while I’d slept, a note pinned to the lace to explain its existence.
The ball to celebrate my arrival at Ethermore had come sooner than I’d expected. Too soon to allow for last-minute invitations to my family, apparently. Intentional, no doubt, though I couldn’t decipher why.
Who had written the note, I didn’t know. The prince certainly wouldn’t have. I’d woken alone and grateful for it, yet annoyingly curious of his whereabouts.
“I don’t need saving,” I said, and far too harshly. I swiped my clammy hands over my hips. If it weren’t for the cream-laced clouds covering the sky-blue silk, I would have assumed the dress was a nightgown, due to it molding to every curve of my body. “I just…” I gestured to the ballroom entrance. “I don’t really want this ball.”
A pointless thing to say.
What I wanted didn’t matter. It never had.
“This evening is not about you, halfling.” Pholly studied the faeries saturating the expansive room—seemed to steel herself with a lift of her pointed chin. “This is but another excuse to overindulge and get up to no good.”
With that, she walked on to the open oak doors.
Her beaded silver gown revealed her arms, shoulders, much of her breasts, and one of her defined legs. Silver ribbons climbed her ankle from her heeled slipper. The glimmering beads threw sparks at the shadows in the hall.
They seemed to retreat, flinching back toward the deeper dark behind me.
I wished I could have done the same.
My betrothed was nowhere to be seen when I entered the room. Standing near the doors, I feigned checking the ribbon I’d weaved into my loosely braided hair. Curving tendrils lined my cheeks and tickled my neck. The ribbon matched the silk beneath the cream lace of my gown. I’d been relieved to find it tied to the same hanger, as I hadn’t had time to search for Elion for assistance.
After waking late and eating lunch alone in the dining room, I’d returned to Atakan’s bed. I’d intended to distract myself from this ball by reading one of the books I’d brought from home. I’d woken hours later on the end of the bed, the castle alive with merriment from arriving guests.
Perhaps Atakan wouldn’t be attending. I hadn’t seen him since last night, and surely, he would have needed to return to his chambers to prepare.
No such luck, I soon discovered.
A tendril of hair stirred at my cheek as sudden energy warmed from behind. I knew before he spoke that such energy could only be his.
“Dread.”
I didn’t turn. I kept watching the fiddle players twirl throughout the ballroom. Some guests clapped and danced as they neared them. Some ignored them. Others sneered.
Mercifully, my tone was as crisp as I’d intended. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”
He stood beside me, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve beneath his coat as if loathing the tight fit. “I’ll never forfeit an opportunity to torture you, halfling. You should know that by now.”
I glanced at him. Just briefly.
His hair was damp. It seemed he’d only managed a quick wash, too. Curiosity over what had kept him away all day climbed from a simmer to a boil as he dragged a long finger over his bladed jawline.
He appeared to check it, then exhaled and shook out his arms. Sky-blue silk lined his dark blue coat. He tugged it closed over the cream shirt beneath but left it unbuttoned.
Unable to resist, I said as I returned my gaze to the colorful collection of guests, “I was beginning to wonder if such a loss was making it difficult for you to face me.”
Faeries now glanced our way. Some outright stared while smiling and smirking and whispering to one another.
I kept my features still, not wishing to react to their murmured insults. It was better they thought I lacked the ability to hear them due to being half-human.
“I’ve been thinking about that too, actually.” His smile was evident in his dry tone. “And I do believe the blood drawn makes me the victor.”
Irritated—by his undeserved smugness and by the fluttering in my stomach from knowing that he’d been thinking about me—I gave him a new challenge. “Then maybe we should dance.”
He laughed, deeply and so genuine, I almost flinched. Gazing down at me, he slowly closed his mouth. His jaw firmed.
A brow raised, I waited.
His jaw ticked, the only indication of some internal struggle.
Then he smirked as the crowd parted for Ruelle, and he left without a backward glance.
Her dark pink gown matched the tint on her lips. The pleated skirts swished as Ruelle reached Atakan and took his arm. She led him to a server bearing a tray of crystal goblets.
Moments later, they were swallowed within the crowd.
A monstrosity of a cake perched atop the banquet table in the center of the room. To fix my uneven breathing, I studied each line of cloudy-blue icing over the white fondant and identified each gleaming glob of fruit.
The king’s boisterous laughter drew my gaze, and I caught the roll of Cordenya’s eyes behind him. She drained her goblet as Garran lifted two females over his shoulders. He turned them in circles, their kicking feet nearly catching his consort in the face.
Scowling, Cordenya stepped back, then headed toward a server for more wine.
Phineus arrived.
He grinned when I snagged his attention. His attire seemed almost casual. “He’s an enigma.”
Knowing he’d meant the king, I eyed his frothy olive green shirt and brown leather pants, asking, “How so?”
“Everyone’s friend one second, the next he could be beheading someone or taking their wife as a lover for weeks as punishment.” He offered me his goblet of wine. I declined, and he shrugged. “The two extremes can often make for an interesting event.”
“Seems he gifted only one extreme to his son.”
My betrothed was being fed wine by Ruelle. Another female, white-haired and willowy, danced before them next to a smaller banquet table along the wall.
Phineus soaked them in with a hum. All the while, I pretended to observe the lace-covered table. The array of cream-topped strawberries, cloud-shaped cheeses, and bowls of brightly shelled chocolates.
“It has been said that he truly was born without a heart.”
Unable to trap it, I laughed. “I cannot imagine anything more true than that.”
As if hearing the sound above the others in the room, Atakan glanced our way. His eyes sparked. The vivid bronze morphed into green, tugging forward the memory of his fingers and his unwavering gaze on my sex.
Fighting a silent battle against the heat rushing through me, I didn’t notice Phineus’s extended hand until he chuckled.
I looked at it, then at him.
He said, “Atakan might be heartless, but he is still a faerie male. Trust me.”
“You’ll need to forgive my inability to trust anyone in this castle.”
He wasn’t offended. “Then take a chance. Just for a few minutes.” Before I could deny him once more, he drained his goblet and handed it to a passing guest.
The near-bald male balked at it, then at Phineus with outraged amber eyes. But we were wading into the crowd of dancers before he could find words to join his glower.
Phineus placed my hand at his shoulder and kept the other in his as he tugged me against him. “Lord Hillings,” he explained. “Not too long ago, he made the mistake of trying to touch my sister.”
Taller than me by only a few inches, I could see the guests over his shoulder. A small comfort, with skies only knew who floated behind my half-exposed back as we swayed.
“So you are defending her honor by disrespecting him,” I surmised and tried not to trip over the small lace train of my gown as it tangled around our feet.
“She doesn’t need me to do that. He wears the evidence of her ire in his permanently crooked finger. I merely enjoy irritating him.”
Impressed, I admitted, “Pholly grows more and more admirable each day.”
“She’s a viper, but her heart is pudding.” He paused, true fear entering his voice. “Don’t tell her I said that.”
I smiled, failing to find his twin sister in the shimmering dim of the ballroom.
Orbs strung from the rafters threw splashes of sun-shaped shadows over the muraled walls. As I watched them flicker, tension ceased stiffening my movements.
That is, until Phineus whispered so quietly I almost missed it, “Sniff me.”
“What?” I nearly shouted.
“Lower your nose to my neck…” He pressed his mouth to my ear, breathing the words into it. “Just for three seconds, and make a show of scenting me.”
After another stunned moment, I did—forgetting how foolish I felt when I inhaled deeply. Against his sun-kissed skin, I asked, “Apple?”
“My favorite soap.”
Slowly, I lifted my head.
Over Phineus’s shoulder, Elion’s gaze caught mine. But it wasn’t me who seemed to have his attention.
Phineus noticed when we turned, and I could’ve sworn he held me closer, tighter as flutes and light percussion joined the floating notes from the fiddles.
My assumption was bold, certainly, yet no more than what I was already doing. “You’re attempting to make someone jealous.”
Phineus didn’t even try to deny it. His smile was rueful, and his voice whisperingly low. “Do you think it’s working?”
“Well…” I waited until the steward came into view again. “He’s still watching.”
“I know.”
Confusion had me asking, “Surely, Atakan knows you prefer males, then?”
“He knows I love everything.” He spun me, and I laughed. Bringing me back to his chest, he whispered to my cheek, “And here he comes.”
A thrill spiraled down my spine, straightening it.
His presence was a flare of heat at my back, and his voice low and scathing. “Remove your hands, or I’ll remove them from your body and make you eat them.”
Phineus grinned, his eyes brightening to the same blue of the muraled ballroom as he released me. Stepping back, he made an amusing show of bowing.
Atakan took my hand before he’d even straightened.
Tentatively, I placed the other over his broad shoulder. Tension screamed from his taut frame and in his bruising grip. My fingers protested the squeeze, but I moved my feet in time with his.
His scent flooded, awakening the defiance in me. “I thought you didn’t want to be seen with me.”
“And I thought you valued your insignificant life.” He spun me away from him, then hauled me back to his chest with force that dizzied. His hand slid to my lower back, his fingers digging into my exposed skin—too firm to be possessive.
Punishing.
I asked, though I already knew, “What gives you the impression I don’t?”
“You’ve publicly insulted me.”
“By dancing with your cousin?” I pressed. When he didn’t answer, I laughed. “Because I sniffed him.”
Still, Atakan said nothing. He didn’t need to when a strange noise, not a growl but not a grunt, rumbled from his chest.
A morsel of concern had me confessing, “You’ve embarrassed me, too.”
He glared down at me, his gaze fire-shrouded emerald. “Why should I care about that?”
For a moment, I was struck still by the loss of so much bronze—by the predatory glow. Then one of his eyes narrowed. Not because I hadn’t answered, but almost as if he couldn’t quite figure something out.
I needed to look away from those eyes but refused to show fear. “I’m not saying you should. But if you don’t, then you also shouldn’t care if I dance with someone.”
“I don’t care.”
“Then why are you dancing with me?”
“I want to fuck you.” The gritted words burst between his teeth as though he’d been biting them since he’d arrived.
A shocked laugh fled me, my head shaking like I’d been slapped.
Eyes fell upon us, piercing and curious and prying. I forgot about them, and about where we were entirely as I read Atakan’s earnest expression. The utter stillness of his skull-sharp cheeks and features. “You mean that.”
He just blinked slowly.
“You truly do want to, and I think you hate it.”
His smile was serpentine before his mouth neared my temple, his lethal words for only me to hear. “I’ve ruined your innocence with my fingers. Now I want to stretch and stuff you with my cock until tears leave your eyes and your defiant mouth can’t form words.”
My stomach hollowed, then filled with heat.
“You can’t scare me,” I whispered, even as fear hitched my breath. “Not with games I am happy to play.”
His inhale hissed. “Prove it.”
I pulled free of him, weighing the steady glow of his gaze.
Then I walked through the watching guests toward the nearest exit.
Atakan wouldn’t follow. He wouldn’t dare be seen leaving with the halfling he was being forced to marry. So I knew I would be made to wait like the desperate creature he wished me to be.
Yet I hadn’t thought I would be waiting all night.
I tossed and turned, the bedding torture over my naked body. Not as torturous as the want I shouldn’t feel. I shouldn’t have wanted this. Not with him.
But I did.
I wanted him enamored. I wanted the safety that would come with his obsession. I wanted the freedom to live without the constraints of fear and uncertainty.
Most of all, I wanted the challenge of him.
An unfortunate side effect of this game of survival—the addicting high of victory, no matter how small.
This time, victory was undeniably his.
The cunning creature had made me leave my own welcoming ball.
He remained downstairs, drinking wine and perhaps even entertaining Ruelle or some other female, all the while knowing that I was in his bed. That I was waiting and willing.
As night crawled into the early hours of a new day, I began to wonder less about who he’d chosen to entertain himself with and more about who I might have been without this game. Without this fate I’d never wanted.
Without a prince that made even defeat taste victorious.