Chapter 46
Elariya
“Dancing in Silk and Poison”
Soft violin music drifted through the ballroom, but I barely heard it over the thundering of my heartbeat.
Dreynthor's hand rested at the small of my back as we moved in perfect time to the waltz, his touch making my skin crawl despite the layers of fabric between us.
All I wanted was to be with Wolfe. I'd been desperate to see him, so desperate I'd spent the whole day counting down the hours.
The wait had been worth it. The sight of him dressed in his formal attire with his hair pulled back from his face stole my breath away.
The way his eyes had burned into mine when we found each other across the crowded ballroom was still warming my heart.
The heat in his voice when he'd whispered those sinful promises in my ear still singed my core. And here I was, dancing with his uncle.
I forced a polite smile as Dreynthor spun me gracefully across the marble floor, but every fiber of my being wanted to pull away.
Dreynthor Nightblade had the regal bearing of a seasoned warrior.
He had raven hair like Wolfe's, though shorter and more severely styled.
He was over a thousand years old, but his Fae heritage kept him looking no older than his late forties.
Beneath the surface of his cold eyes lay intimidation and darkness.
The kind designed to cut deep and usurp power no matter the cost.
He was exactly as Arielle had described him, and her warning about him being creepy proved completely accurate.
His leery gaze sent shivers down my spine, the way he looked at me making my stomach churn.
It felt like he was dissecting me with his eyes, trying to peel back my skin and examine what secrets lay beneath.
Play nice, I reminded myself, keeping my expression pleasant even as his fingers pressed a little too firmly against my spine. Just get through this dance.
I caught a glimpse of Wolfe watching us through the swirling dancers.
He stood rigid by one of the long tables, his jaw clenched tightly.
Even from here, I could feel the barely-leashed fury radiating from him.
He was watching every move his uncle made, every touch, and I could sense it was taking great effort not to intervene.
The protective way he'd positioned himself between me and Dreynthor earlier hadn't escaped me. It was as if Wolfe was trying to shield me from whatever game his uncle was playing.
“You dance beautifully, my dear,” Dreynthor murmured, his breath too close to my ear.
“Thank you, Your Grace.” I fought the urge to shudder.
“Tell me, how are you finding Galaythia?” His tone was conversational, but I sensed the calculation behind his words.
“It's wonderful here. There's so much to see.”
“Of course. Though I'm certain a mixed being of your mage background would have preferred to go to the Ravenwood Realm.”
“I do plan to visit as soon as I can. Once I get used to my duties here. There's a lot to learn.”
His eyes sharpened with interest, his smile never wavering. “I imagine so. And my nephew can be a handful.”
“I'm just grateful Lord Nightblade was kind enough to offer me a position in his court.” Though my nerves spiked, my mind was working overtime to weave in the story we'd agreed upon as seamlessly as if it were true.
“It is quite generous of him.” Dreynthor's grin was cold and calculating. “And tell me, what exactly do you do in his... service?”
His questions... Each one felt like a trap, designed to pull information from me. His probing eyes suggested he was searching for weaknesses. For leverage.
My pulse quickened as I thought of an answer. “My apprenticeship covers quite an extensive list of duties. At the moment, I'm learning to harness my magical abilities in the best ways to serve the royal court.”
“And what type of magic do you practice, my dear?”
“Elemental magic, mostly.” I kept my voice steady. “Nothing too extraordinary.”
“Nothing too extraordinary? That's odd. A mage would need to be absolutely extraordinary to work in the royal court. So, either you're being far too humble about your... gifts, or you're not telling the truth.”
Shit. I felt like I'd just been caught in his trap with mere seconds to think up a way out before he exposed me or the pressure forced me to yield my secrets.
“I'm just being humble, Your Grace. It's never a good idea to boast.”
“I'd agree with you under normal circumstances, but I suspect you're here for other reasons. You and my nephew seem quite fond of each other.”
My heart triple-beat then pounded against my ribs. This was what he really wanted to know—how close Wolfe and I were. “I assure you, Lord Nightblade has only been a generous host,” I said carefully. “I'm simply grateful for his hospitality.”
Dreynthor's lips curved into a cold smile. “Is that what we're calling it? Hospitality? From where I was standing, it looked like something far more personal.”
Blessed Mother. What was I supposed to say now? This creep sounded as if he already knew all the answers to his questions and was taking pleasure in interrogating me.
“I'm not sure what you mean, Your Grace,” I lied, still trying to keep up appearances.
“Oh, I think you do.” The way he said those words made my cheeks burn. There was an implication there, something dark and knowing that made me want to flee from his arms entirely.
“No. Not really.”
The weight of his scrutiny pulled me under as he appeared to catalogue every reaction, every hesitation. His thumb traced across my knuckles in a gesture that was meant to appear casual, but this conversation was an interrogation disguised as polite small talk.
“You see, my dear, I make it my business to know everything that happens in my realm. And my nephew... well, he's never been very good at hiding his feelings.”
Dread pooled in my stomach, but I tried to keep my face void of emotion.
The music swelled around us as he guided me through another turn. I caught another glimpse of Wolfe. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides now. We were too far away for him to have heard any of our conversation, but I wondered if he might by some stroke of magic.
“Wolfe has always been intense,” Dreynthor continued, spinning me with practiced ease.
“Even as a boy, when he wanted something, he'd stop at nothing to get it.
Quite ruthless, really. It's served him well in some regards, but it's also been his greatest weakness.
Because he wears his emotions for the world to see. That's never a good thing.”
“It would not be wise for me to speak ill of my Lord.” I pulled in a slow breath, hopeful he'd change the subject.
“No. It would not be wise. But I would hate for such a lovely thing as yourself to be disappointed by expectations that can never be met.”
I gave him a narrowed stare. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, the throne requires compromises.” Dreynthor's grip on my hand and waist tightened just a fraction.
“It requires strategic alliances that serve the greater good of the realm.
So, don't get too comfortable in his bed.
And don't expect anything from Wolfe Nightblade. He cannot give you what you want. In the end, you will simply become something to fuck and toss to the side.”
My blood turned to ice, and my veins became cold and heavy like steel. I'd never had anyone speak to me in such a crude manner.
Something to fuck and toss to the side. Even a whore would take offense to that.
The ballroom seemed to tilt around me. I stumbled slightly, my feet missing the rhythm of the waltz. Dreynthor steadied me, but it was clear from the satisfied smirk on his stony face that my shaken state amused him.
“Oh, no, my dear. How thoughtless of me. Did I upset you?” His tone was mockingly sympathetic.
“Not at all, Your Grace.”
“I can see you're being modest again. I commend you, but you need to understand who my nephew is. Wolfe is the Prince of Galaythia. Heir to the throne. He has responsibilities and legacies to uphold. He can't afford to indulge in fleeting attractions with low-class girls like you.”
Those words cut even deeper, striking my heart. I could barely breathe.
There was nothing I could say to defend myself or refute him. This asshole was absolutely vile and evil. But... he was right.
The final notes of the violin hung in the air like a dying breath. Dreynthor was about to lead me into another dance, but a familiar presence appeared at our side.
Wolfe.
“Uncle.” Wolfe's voice was dangerously sharp, as piercing as his stare. “Your time is up.”
“I was about to—”
“Your time is up.” Wolfe spoke with deadly authority, and I could see from the sternness in his expression he knew I was upset. “Move.”
A jolt of shock ran through me at the steel in his voice. The sheer force of Wolfe's presence made the air around us crackle with danger to the point that people nearby looked on with curious stares and whispers.
The last time I'd seen Wolfe get so worked up was with Garrick. It was on the day I flew Hedion. Before that, he'd gotten pissed off about Garrick tending to my wound when the spell failed.
But he'd never sounded like this. Wolfe's command to Dreynthor was lethal, dripping with cutting authority that didn't give a damn who it was aimed at.
Dreynthor's eyes flickered, cold menace lurking in his expression like a thief in the dark. His grip on my hand lingered a moment too long before he finally let me go.
“Of course, nephew.” He turned to me with a flat smile. “Enjoy the rest of the evening. I hope you'll think about my words of wisdom.”
My stomach churned, and my chest hollowed as if his cruelty had carved out pieces of my soul.
What a truly, truly vile man. My heart might have leapt with the relief of being rescued, but Dreynthor's cutting words burned through my veins like acid.
Low class. Fleeting attraction. Something to fuck and toss aside. That's the wisdom I was supposed to think about?
Fucking asshole.