Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Slipping my hand into Sebastian’s, I allow him to guide me down the steps and into the castle ballroom. I wear the formal gown Rowena made for me, infinitely grateful for her foresight.
My gown is stunning, the color of rich, fine wine.
It has gold sparkles woven into the silk, like tiny bursts of wildfire.
The long, off-the-shoulder sleeves hide my mark, draping elegantly across my decolletage.
With each step I take, I feel the full skirt sweep across the floor.
The tight bodice hugs the curves of my waist. Sebastian slips a gloved hand across the small of my back, guiding me through the crowd.
“Not a single star in the sky burns as brightly as you this night,” Sebastian whispers in my ear.
“Sebastian,” I say his name with a salacious tone. “Tell me more.”
“Every river has emptied itself, thirsting for your beauty.”
I giggle, taking him in. I admire Sebastian's brunette hair, elegantly swept back, spotlighting his features.
He wears a red capelet fastened at the shoulder with an ornate gold clasp.
Beneath it, a long dark coat accentuates his frame.
Sebastian radiates pure confidence as we walk, beaming with pride to have me by his side.
“You’re excellent with words,” I compliment him.
“That’s not the only thing I’m excellent with.” Sebastian gives me a devious look.
I laugh again. “Now, now, Sebastian.”
Sebastian’s amorous conversation is a sign that Kaia's lessons are working. It’s the friendliest we've been with each other over the past few weeks. I need to focus; nearly every prominent member of Khalessor’s court is here tonight.
This means I need to appear a certain way, carry myself with a level of grace I’ve been practicing my whole life, and perform on a gameboard of political chess.
I’ll try to blend in, make conversation, and hopefully extract some useful information in the process.
My eyes scan the room, and I note each lord and lady locked in performative small talk.
Their expressions appear polite, but they are masks.
I catch sight of stolen glances in our direction, and conversations turn to hushed whispers.
“It seems my presence is causing a stir,” I tell Sebastian.
“Good,” he says confidently, his gaze fixed ahead. “Let them look.”
I spot Wrath conversing casually with two dukes across the room.
One of the Elvarrans holds a dangerous edge, amber eyes gleaming like firelight on a blade.
He is tall and lean, with short black hair and a thick beard.
He wears a finely tailored coat and pants, his boots polished so brightly they reflect the light.
To his side is a shorter Elvarran, his belly round from too much ale. His brown eyes dart between Wrath and the other duke, trying to cut into the conversation, but his comments often go unnoticed. His golden blonde hair is short, paired with a thick beard.
A short woman with golden-spun hair stands beside Wrath, her arm looped through his. She wears a peony-colored gown with a full skirt cinched at the waistline. Atop her head is a gold tiara with an opal at its center, which catches the light as she moves.
Every time Wrath speaks, she sighs longingly at him, fluttering her lashes and pouting her plush lips. Wrath doesn’t acknowledge her as he continues his conversation with the two men, his features an unreadable mask.
“Who is the King speaking to?” I ask quietly.
“Duke Nikolas Sterling of Thalvar and Duke Horatio Horne of Corovya. The lady is Penelope Horne, his daughter,” Sebastian says above my ear, stopping me at the center of the room as we turn to face one another.
“I heard about Corovya’s financial issues.” I rest a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, waiting for the next song to start.
“I have heard whispering of a misplaced bag of Platasia, but it is a rumor,” Sebastian replies, leading me into a waltz.
I suddenly put two and two together— the money Wrath accidentally gave me. He blamed his blunder on the duke, refusing to take responsibility for the lost bag of coins. Perhaps he does not like House Horne or value their allegiance.
Without replying, I step forward and allow Sebastian to spin me before returning to his arms. I know this dance.
I’ve practiced it with Margaret so much that every step lives in my muscles.
I did not think the North and South would share the same traditional dances, but I am relieved to be able to follow along.
My dress swishes at my ankles with each move, precise yet effortless.
I focus on the music, counting the beats in my mind to keep time so I don’t distract myself with all the gawking from the crowd.
I step away, twirl, and reach out my left hand for him to take.
Sebastian grabs it with his right hand, and we move in opposite directions as we circle one another, weaving between the other dancers.
We return to each other's arms. I feel Sebastian pull me toward him, closing the space between our bodies.
He leads me effortlessly through the dance, the two of us in perfect sync, rising and falling like the rhythm of ocean waves.
“You’re an excellent dancer, Princess.”
“So are you, Your Grace.” I smile as we dance, and my gaze darts between his eyes and lips, exactly as Kaia told me to do.
Sebastian must sense my feigned desire, because he grips my waist even more tightly as we dance.
Although he is wearing gloves, I can feel the searing heat of his touch on my skin.
Lifting my hand, Sebastian pulls me to him as the music draws to a close and dips me in a graceful arc.
Rising, I spin one last time and step back, bowing in a low curtsy.
Sebastian places a gloved hand across his chest and bows to me in return.
Smiling, I offer my hand to him once more and allow him to lead me off the dance floor.
Every pair of eyes is on me.
“Now we’ve definitely caught attention,” I whisper.
“Focus on me,” he replies. “No one else matters.”
“Sebastian.” A voice cuts in.
Stopping, we turn as a tall man with short red hair and pointed ears approaches us. He has sharp features with angled cheekbones and precise brows. His blue eyes fix on us with a piercing gaze, sharp and unyielding.
“Alec.” He gives a slight bow of his head. “Raelys, this is Duke Alec Wulfstan of Salasyr.”
I curtsy as well, following Sebastian’s lead. “Your Grace.”
Is this Lydia’s husband? I glance down at his left hand to see a wedding band around his ring finger, then quickly return my attention to him. I desperately want to ask, but I know this likely isn’t the right time.
“Lady Raelys.” Alec places a hand on his chest and bows his head.
“I heard you got married recently,” Sebastian says, flowing effortlessly through the appeasement of socialization. “Is she in attendance tonight?”
Alec shakes his head. “She has come down with some bouts of morning flu. If she is with child, I have no wish to make her travel.”
Sebastian gives him a dazzling smile. “That’s excellent news. I’m delighted at the potential expansion of your family.”
Lydia is pregnant? So soon? About three months have passed since I made my deal with Wrath, and my father shipped me off to Avelisar. Her duty as my lady-in-waiting is complete, leaving her to find a marriage of her own.
“Thank you,” Alec says graciously. “Are you traveling back to Rykaris shortly?”
“I recently returned,” Sebastian replies. “Is there something I can assist you with?”
“Tell your king he’s got a deal.” Alec’s tone is cold. “Salasyr has had enough of this current regime.”
“Of course.” Sebastian nods. “I send my correspondence every first day, but if you prefer things not to be in writing, I can send a messenger.”
“A messenger is preferred,” Alec replies. “If you have time, I’d also like to ask you how you collect tax on the…” his voice fades into nothingness as their small talk continues.
I feel a gaze on me. Without turning, I know who it belongs to—that fierce, unmistakable presence presses against me like a held breath. It prickles down the back of my neck, making it difficult to focus on the conversation.
I relent.
Glancing at the source of the tension, I lock eyes with the person who burns through my restraint in seconds. Wrath. He looks at me as if I am his every desire, the air pulling taut between us. It makes the vast space of the ballroom constrict tighter than the corset caging my lungs.
The only color in his black ensemble is a streak of sapphire in his vest. Every hair, thread, and button is in place. I expect no less from him. Perfectly pristine. Unfairly unblemished. Breathtakingly beautiful. He is the embodiment of brilliance itself.
It’s the first time I’ve seen a crown on his head, the thick spires a symbol of sovereignty and dominance that suit him far too well.
It is a reminder of who he is, a king whose force shapes the fate of the realm at every turn.
I have gotten far too comfortable, too complacent with allowing him into my battlements.
Penelope’s arm is in his, and Sebastian's looped in mine. Neither of us focuses on our partner as time slows, allowing several moments to pass. It is wistful—forbidden—both of us locked into our arrangements but craving only one another.
Penelope moves to say something in Wrath’s ear, but his gaze does not falter from me, and he says nothing in return.
She turns, trying to find the source of his yearning, her gaze eventually locking in on me.
She scowls as she yanks on the sleeve of Wrath’s jacket.
Penelope’s lips are moving, but the string quartet drowns out her words.
“Raelys.” Sebastian’s voice snaps me out of my trance.
“Yes?” I say softly, returning my focus to him.
“Would you like some wine?” he asks, gesturing to the servant with the tray.
“I would.” I reach out to grab a glass. “Aurelia?”