Chapter 17 #3
I bite my lower lip, contemplating the prince before me.
I’ve always been empathetic to a fault and find myself more than halfway inclined to offer empathy to Taigan.
“Well,” I say with some reluctance, “that all might be true enough. But that doesn’t give you the right to be a complete arse to people. ”
“Have I been an”—he hesitates over the unprincely word—“an arse to you?”
“Really?” I give him a look. “You have to ask?”
“If that is the case, I apologize, Princess Roselle.” He looks very solemn and, though I hate to admit it, very handsome as he bows to me.
“I hope you will understand that any arse-like behavior on my part stems merely from a desire to prove myself worthy of the destiny to which I have been called.”
“To which you may have been called,” I answer with some force. “You’ve not won this championship yet, Prince Taigan. You’ve not even taken the lead.”
His face darkens. For a moment, I see again the Taigan I have come to dread, forceful and entitled, possessive and terrifying.
That image is gone again in a blink, however, replaced by an expression of smooth courtliness.
“I fully intend to prove myself,” he says.
“To you, to my uncle. To all of them.” He moves his arm, indicating the other three champions watching us from a little distance.
“I suppose we’ll see,” I say frostily. Then: “Are you intending to ask me to dance, Prince?”
Even as I speak, the song which has been playing all this while comes to an end.
As the next one begins, Lord Elis appears suddenly at my elbow, his fingers pinching ever so slightly.
“How now, Taigan, old boy!” he says with a grin.
“You’ve had your chance and wasted it in chitchat.
There’s none to blame but yourself! My turn now. ”
I catch a last glimpse of the prince’s face just as Elis whirls me away.
His expression looks very close to murder.
But then he’s behind me, and I’m moving rather faster than I like, trying to keep up with the pace of the dance and my new partner’s exuberance.
Elis pulls me so close, I lose my breath in a little gasp as my chest collides with his.
I draw back a step and manage to say, “Lord Elis, I don’t remember you asking me to dance! ”
The young lord tosses back his head and laughs merrily. “I’ve often found it best not to ask. Ladies can be so fickle in their preferences and need a man to simply show them what they truly want.”
“Oh?” I put a little more space between us only for him to pull me closer again. “And what is it I want exactly?”
“That’s easy.” Elis tips his head and speaks in a not-quite whisper. “To be anywhere other than in the same atmosphere as Prince Taigan.”
An unladylike snort escapes through my nostrils. I try to hide it in a cool expression. “You are surprisingly insightful, Lord Elis.”
“I like to think I’ve got unexplored depths about me,” he replies. “In fact, you and I might find a great deal of amusement exploring one another’s depths.”
There’s something about the way he says it that feels just on the wrong side of suggestive.
I find myself both laughing and blushing and…
oh gods, am I having fun? I might be. Far more fun than a victim of kidnapping and mistaken identity really ought to be having while imprisoned some three thousand feet underground.
I’ve never been properly courted before, certainly not by this many men at once.
Tim made a few vague attempts, which I momentarily indulged before repulsing with vigor.
To find myself the center of attention for all these very handsome, very powerful men… how easily it might go to my head!
Come now, little princess, did you really think all these mighty men were here for you? Joro’s voice echoes darkly in the back of my mind. You’re nothing much…It’s the fire you carry inside they are interested in, every last rat-rutter of them.
It’s true. I may hate the very memory of Joro and what he tried to do to me.
But in this, at least, he spoke honestly.
None of these men want anything to do with me—not the real me.
Any one of a thousand other young women could take my place, and they would pursue her with the same vigor.
But I myself don’t matter three straws to any of them.
“Now, Princess,” Elis’s voice breaks through my thoughts, drawing my attention back to his merry face, “that is a dour look if I ever saw one. Who has dared offend you? Was it Taigan, making faces again? Or did that slithery Rune hiss at you behind my back?”
His teasing coaxes a small smile back to my lips. But then he leans in and speaks into my ear. “Did I say something amiss? I do apologize if so. While I may play the cad, I don’t want you to be in doubt of my earnestness.”
He looks very earnest. He sounds very earnest as well. But I cannot help doubting even so. “No,” I say, once more putting a little space between us. “I was afraid I’d stepped on your toe just then, that is all.”
“You did step on my toe. But if it would please you, Princess, I would gladly offer you nine others to step on as you so desire. And if those prove insufficient, I’m sure I could fetch the other champions to sacrifice their toes for your pleasure.”
I cannot help laughing. He so obviously enjoys acting the fool, and I’m happy enough for a distraction.
He twirls me on through the dance, and I’m so dizzy for a moment, I almost don’t notice the tall, dark figure standing off to one side of the dance floor.
Then my heart does a wild lurch, striking my breastbone before plunging to my belly.
It’s Valtar. He’s there, just at the entrance to the great hall.
The multihued scintil light plays strange shadows across his face and highlights the scar through his eyebrow.
It can do nothing to lighten the intense dreariness of his all-black ensemble, but it does illuminate the bit of rose-colored silk tied to his sleeve.
My gaze fastens on that scarf. In the same moment, I can almost feel the sizzling tension in the air as all the champions realize who has come and what he wears.
I lift my eyes, and they momentarily lock with his.
In that brief instant—no more than an instant before Elis spins me away—blood rushes in my veins, my heart jumps from my stomach to my throat, and I can’t help thinking this is much too strong a reaction to be having to a man I met only days ago.
“So he managed it after all,” Elis says, his voice not so merry as it was at the beginning of our dance. “The lads had bets going as to whether or not the dracori blighter would make himself charming enough to win your favor.”
“Oh?” I pull my gaze back to the young lord’s, hoping he cannot hear how hard my heart is pounding. “And what was the general consensus?”
“It was an even split. Taigan and Rune both declared that you would not sully the purity of this contest by bestowing your colors on dracori scum.”
My stomach knots. “But you and Prince Warrick thought differently?”
“We agreed that he would receive the favor, though we differed as to why. Warrick thought you would feel obligated to bestow your colors considering the feats of manliness our Inithanian friend displayed during the first trial. Granted, Warrick is inclined to be biased given he owes his life to the man.”
“And your own perspective?” We’re turning again, but I take particular care to keep my gaze fixed on Elis’s, not allowing it to swivel back to Valtar.
Elis laughs. And he really does have quite a nice laugh and such a lovely smile.
No dimples, but the little cleft in his chin quite makes up for this lack, not to mention the way his eyes crinkle up almost to the point of disappearing.
“I bet you would feel sorry for the man and grant him your favor out of the kindness of your heart.”
“You think I’m so tenderhearted as all that?”
He tips his head. “While I wouldn’t presume to know you well, you have kind eyes.” His face softens a little, and his voice drops to a lower register. “I like that about you.”
A warm feeling blooms in my chest. “I hardly think you know enough about me to form any kind of liking, Lord Elis.”
“And whyever not?”
“We’ve interacted all of one other time before this. That’s not enough to construct any strong opinions.”
“I don’t know about that.” Elis lifts his gaze to the ceiling for a moment, as though contemplating his answer.
Then he looks at me again, no smile on his lips, but an oddly serious look in his eyes.
“It took courage for you to leap to Prince Valtar’s defense at the Presentation.
Choosing to dance with him rather than let the situation get out of hand?
Plucky. And generous. Don’t get me wrong,” he adds, “I was jealous enough to self-combust! But it was bravely done and demonstrated a quickness of mind.” He is silent for a moment as he moves me through a more complicated turn, then finishes with “Besides, your loathing for Prince Taigan endears you to me, as it would anyone with a lick of sense.”
“There you go again!” I cry, shaking my head. “Making me laugh! Everyone will think I’m such a fool, giggling my head off on the dance floor.”
Elis pulls me in close, dropping his lips to my ear. “I hope I will have ample opportunity to make you laugh for many years to come, Princess,” he murmurs.
I flush all over and am inordinately relieved when the music ends. I step back, offer a not-all-bad curtsy, and make a hasty escape.
There’s nowhere to escape to, however. The banquet has scarcely begun, and I know I’m expected to dance with my champions for hours yet before finally being allowed to retire.
Will they let me at least pause to eat at some point in the evening?
I place a hand over my hollow stomach and cast a wistful glance in the direction of the banquet table.
Only it’s not platters of roasted meat and sugared cakes I see, but Prince Taigan, waiting with arms crossed.
Oh, right. I haven’t actually danced with him yet, have I?
Will the king be quite angry if I don’t?
But the king…he isn’t here. The dais throne where Alderin was seated but a few moments before is empty. Only the sword and scabbard remain, leaning against the left-hand arm. Why did he go without a word? And why did he leave his sword behind?
A strange sensation stirs in my blood. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s more like an emotion than a physical perception. Like my very bones are vibrating with some feeling for which I don’t have a word. Foreboding perhaps, but—
“Something is coming.”
I whip around in a rustle of heavy skirts. Valtar stands behind me, so close I nearly bump my nose into his chest. I step back a pace and tilt my head, looking up at him. Only he’s not looking at me. His gaze is fixed over my head, staring across the hall to the far door.
“Valtar?” I say, my voice dropped to a whisper in the suddenly quiet hall. The musicians have gone—no new tune has struck, and the gallery overhead is silent. But there, I feel the vibration again, that warning in my bones, in my blood. “Valtar, what—” I begin.
I don’t get a chance to finish. In that very moment, the doors burst open, and five huge, lean, monstrous forms lunge into the banquet hall.