Chapter Seventeen Prince Sloth #2
A knot loosened in my chest.
I moved from the shadows and paused at the railing, watching as Lore entered the ball on the arm of the man I imagined was her fictional brother.
She looked like she’d stepped from the pages of the novel.
I had to admit that she made a striking noblewoman.
Her dark hair had been curled and pinned up, showing the long line of her elegant neck. The gown she wore was one of the palest shades of peach I’d ever seen and made her seem ethereal.
I was surprised at the deep sense of satisfaction I felt at her color choice. Though I was less surprised that her husband-to-be strode over to intercept her immediately, then pressed a chaste kiss to her gloved knuckles.
Excited titters went up around the gathering. Apparently that one pathetic act was worthy of high praise. Murmurs of how attentive he was sparked even more gossip over their union being a love match.
Even from where I stood, I saw the slight flush of her cheeks.
My hand tightened on the stem of my glass.
The marquess escorted her onto the checkered dance floor and a waltz promptly struck up.
Lore’s gaze subtly darted around the ballroom.
I wondered if she was looking for me or simply taking in the sight of another one of her stories come to life.
I ignored them and scanned the crowd for Xavier again. I didn’t think he’d be bold enough to show up, given the falling-out he’d had with this group, but it was best to remain on alert. He would likely sneak in and try to blend in.
Perhaps he’d come in disguise. I watched all the footmen and staff coming and going, searching for any signs of nervousness.
I slowly took in every nook and corner, then allowed my senses to spread out, searching for his familiar aura, the same way I’d done over the last half hour.
He still wasn’t in attendance.
My attention settled back on the waltz that seemed to be never ending.
As the couple of the hour swept around the floor, the marquess’s hand slowly strayed lower, his palm laying a possessive claim as he pressed Lore closer.
They were skirting the lines of propriety.
And the crowd couldn’t get enough.
Lore peered up into his face, a bright smile lifting the edges of her full lips.
I downed my champagne.
This song had to be nearing its conclusion.
I slowly made my way to the first floor, slipping between members of Society who were openly watching the couples spinning around the dance floor, and ignoring others who tried to catch my eye.
Most were gossiping about the betrothed marquess and his lovely lady, who were dancing scandalously close.
I prowled around the ballroom, keeping them in sight.
The last thing we needed was for the marquess to attempt a private interlude and waste more of our precious time.
I waited until the song almost ended before striding over to Lore.
A few shocked gasps followed in my wake. But if I was to play the role of unaffected libertine, I’d own it.
I stopped close enough to the happy couple that Autumntide was forced to step back. He stiffened when he realized who’d approached.
I summarily dismissed him and inclined my head at Lore.
“May I have the next dance, Lady Brimstone?”
“Winters.” A deep frown formed on the marquess’s face before his years of good breeding kicked in and his expression smoothed out. “Of course. So long as you take care with my lady.”
My jaw tensed as I held my hand out, palm up, waiting. I wasn’t asking for his consent. “Lady Brimstone?”
Lore’s brows hit her hairline, but she quickly schooled her features and curtsied. “My lord. I’d be honored.”
The marquess didn’t seem pleased to relinquish his partner to me, but there was nothing he could do without causing a scene.
A fact I was well aware of, given the historical setting.
I might not be an expert with Regency-era romances, but I was well acquainted with mortal history, especially involving the peerage.
Dancing two songs in a row would cause a scene, so he couldn’t claim the next dance.
And Lore hadn’t had time to have her dance card filled out before her so-called fiancé had swept her away.
There was no good reason for either of them to deny me the dance.
Which would serve as a way for Lore and me to finally speak again.
I slipped an arm around her waist and placed her hand on my shoulder, then led us through the next dance.
“You’re glowering like a sociopath again,” she said, her smile still in place. “Try not to look so pissy.”
“I find ballrooms and dancing abhorrent. Along with idle gossip.”
“So you mean to tell me your court never hosts balls or parties?”
I bristled at her tone. “Occasionally. For practical purposes.”
“Such as?”
“Marriages. Or other ceremonial unions.” I thought of the last ball I’d hosted for my court.
“They’re mostly used for networking. Though when we do throw an event, it’s normally bookish in nature.
We tend to decorate based on themes. The last wedding was between an astronomer and astrologer, so we turned the castle into the cosmos. ”
“That sounds rather romantic.”
I almost missed a step and corrected our movements before answering. “Practical. My court doesn’t feed into frivolous emotions.”
Lore shook her head.
“Don’t any of you believe in the magic of falling in love?”
“Not particularly. Romance has devolved into performance over substance. It’s become less authentic and therefore odious to deal with at best; my court prefers direct honesty over anything that feels… transactional. Why play a coy game when both parties want the end result?”
“Perhaps the so-called game is simply a method to establish a foundation built on effort and balance.” She narrowed her gaze on me. “You think true love is transactional?”
I felt Lore’s attention boring holes into me but pretended not to notice.
“I think romance, at its heart, is essentially an act of pomp and circumstance. It can become… distracting.”
Unlike my brother Envy’s former one-night rule that he’d used to stoke jealousy in his lovers, I had no qualms about bedding the same partner more than once. Things only ended when emotional attachments formed.
They tended to create an imbalance and complicated matters.
My circle was very much of the mind-versus-heart mentality.
Since my court dealt with things in an intellectual manner, most parted ways amicably as soon as they recognized the signs of emotional bonding. They, too, wanted to spend their time holed up reading—focusing on academic pursuits.
Science, mathematics, medicine, astrology, astronomy, philosophy, architecture, the occult, art, and history were only some of the scholarly focuses members of House Sloth dedicated their lives to.
Along with most of my court, I avoided inviting unnecessary drama and conflict into my life whenever possible. Though some texts I’d read on relationships indicated I simply hadn’t met my match yet.
It was one subject I didn’t care to pursue, so I left it be.
She sighed. “You could at least tell me I look pretty.”
I glanced down at her, drawing my brows together. “Why would I do that?”
“Forget it.”
We moved effortlessly across the marble floor, silent until I brought my lips close to her ear and murmured, “You don’t look pretty. You look like complete and utter ruination, Lore.”
She drew back to stare up at me.
“You really need to work on compliments, Blondie. Being called a pretty disaster won’t win you any hearts.”
A smiled tugged at the corners of my mouth.
“You misunderstand. Causing ruination is far more dangerous than simply being pretty. You are intriguing and therefore wholly captivating. Men go to war over less.”
I jerked my chin at the edge of the dance floor.
“Your fiancé is ready to murder anyone who comes too close. He’s danced with you once and he’s already out of his senses. Which is a problem since I need to steal you away unnoticed.”
Lore’s expression shifted. “You found something? About the book?”
I gave her a sharp nod of assent. “Top floor.”
Other couples were straying too close for us to speak more.
She nibbled her lower lip.
I inadvertently pressed her closer and her attention shot up.
“Step on my hem,” she demanded. When I didn’t immediately catch on, she sighed. “Getting it mended will give me an excuse to disappear for a while.”
I gave her an appreciative look. She was cunning in all the right ways. I spun us around then made sure my boot caught in her skirt.
A loud ripping noise drew several pairs of eyes our way.
The scowls shot at me were filled with loathing. One would think I’d kissed her senselessly and impugned her honor right there in front of the whole crowd instead of accidentally tearing her skirt.
“Apologies, my lady.” I escorted her off the dance floor and leaned in. “I’ll be waiting upstairs.”
I’d been standing behind a potted fern for only a few moments when I heard soft footsteps coming my way.
I reached out and yanked Lore into the alcove, then held a finger to my lips. Her fiancé had been trailing behind her until he’d gotten waylaid by Midsummer. I wanted to ensure he was truly distracted.
A beat passed and I slowly became aware of the fact that Lore was pressed against me, her warmth enticing…
I gently pushed her forward and silently indicated for her to move down the corridor. She shot me a questioning look but didn’t comment.
We got to the end of the hallway without being intercepted by any stragglers or servants and I let my senses filter out, searching for anyone approaching. I heard nothing but the sounds of the party downstairs.
I closed my hand over the doorknob and released a tendril of magic; the lock clicked open.
I ushered Lore inside and didn’t speak until I’d closed and locked the door behind us.
I waited a beat, hoping I’d sense the wrongness of the Liber Noctem’s power seeping into the room.
There was nothing. If Xavier had been caught and handed the book over, it wasn’t here. I would feel that dark magic anywhere.
I gave the library a perfunctory glance to be sure we were indeed alone, then I peered down at her.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
Lore gave me a bemused smile. “If you keep fussing, I might think you’re starting to like me, Sociopath.”
“I was talking about the Trials.”
“Oh.” She lifted a shoulder. “I think this test might be patience.”
“And the last one?”
She didn’t meet my probing gaze. “Desire.”
“Interesting.” I rolled my shoulders back, noticing the tension in them for the first time. “Based on a conversation I had earlier, I think the Liber Noctem might be somewhere close by. If not this estate, someplace the marquess frequents. Have you sensed anything… odd?”
I still didn’t feel the dark, raging power I normally did. So if it was on the grounds, I wagered it wasn’t even on this floor.
Lore began walking toward the nearest bookshelf, her gloved fingers trailing over the well-oiled spines.
She paused at a shelf with a rectangular box and snapped the lid open. She plucked a gilded stiletto dagger up and admired it.
“Well, there was one odd thing that happened. In the dress shop… I had a vision.” She finally turned to look at me.
“I’d been daydreaming about graphically murdering the women.
But the daydreams were strange; they almost felt like memories.
Not mine, someone else’s. Which is why I think this might be about patience.
I was close to snapping when the dowager countess kept tossing around insults. ”
I schooled my features.
The Liber Noctem had impacted both Xavier and me when we’d been near it, stirring up dark emotions.
It didn’t surprise me that it made Lore feel the same way.
But the visions were troubling. In all the texts I’d read on the Liber Noctem, that possibility was never mentioned. Maybe it had to do with being Nyantha’s champion.
I motioned at the leather settee. “Sit.”
Lore made an incredulous sound then swiped a pillow off a nearby high-backed chair and tossed it past me. “Fetch.”
I stared at her for a moment, then couldn’t stop the bark of laughter from escaping. I was thankful she hadn’t flung the stiletto at me.
She crossed her arms, careful to not stab herself with the blade she still held, her expression less than amused.
I shrugged off my tailcoat and tossed it over the back of the settee and loosened the cravat at my throat.
She watched me without uttering a single word.
“Please, sit. I’m going to attempt to bring you to my library. I need to be comfortable, and you need to be near if it’s to work. Physical contact is probably best.”
Her scowl disappeared.
“If we’re trapped in this realm for the duration of the Trials, how are you going to take us there?”
“Come find out.”
I took a seat and spread my arms across the back of the settee, waiting. Curiosity got the best of her, and she slowly approached.
“There’s not much room for—”
I reached over and dragged her onto my lap. Her body molded against mine, warm and inviting, and I was noticing far too many other details for either of our own good.
For a second, neither one of us moved. I recovered first.
“Empty your thoughts, relax, and let me in.”