Chapter 27 Two Beds #3
The corner of his lip twitched before he resumed his smoulder that burned her inside out.
“First, you do not owe me or anyone else an explanation for who you are. Second, you seem to be making the mistake of thinking that I see you as flawed. There is not a single thing wrong with you, and in fact, I very much like who you are. I have no expectations of you. It doesn’t matter what some magical being on a mountain said. What matters is how you feel.”
His words wrapped around her. Safe. Safe. Safe.
“It’s hard to be vulnerable,” she whispered.
He shrugged, leaning back. “Then don’t be. Use that sharp wit and just have a good night with good people.”
Throat thick, Luci nodded. No expectations. Safe.
“It’s that easy, hm?” she said.
He held up his hands. “It’s that easy.”
Luci rested her chin on her palm and met his gaze, determined to feel something real. To not hide behind fear and loss.
“Are you afraid of anything?” she asked.
He chuckled and crossed his arms, eyes glinting.
“Absolutely. There is always the crushing fear of not being a good ruler, the fear that if I had been born after Gladys, she would be better than I ever could. Fear of ruining my family legacy. There’s the fear that Max will get older and the world won’t understand him.
I’m terrified of disappointing my parents.
I do have a bit of an irrational fear of trolls.
Lucien used to tease me when we were boys that trolls were real and would sneak into my room and eat my eyes.
You know, in hindsight, I should have asked Elowen if bringing back magic would have consequences, such as trolls.
Speaking of, I’ve lost a little sleep over what bringing back magic even meant, and maybe I should have spent more time thinking that through, which brings me back around to being a terrible ruler. ”
When he finished, he lifted his glass of wine and tossed it back, downing it in one go as she had done earlier.
Luci watched his throat work, and for some reason, she pressed her legs together to keep the pressure between them at bay. Goodness, this vulnerable business was a slippery slope.
“Is that all?” she said, voice tight.
He finished and set the glass down, tapping the table.
“I am afraid if I ask you to dance right now you’ll say no,” he said.
There was a challenge in the way his eyes danced over, and she realized he really was paying attention to who she was because she straightened her back and leaned forward.
“Right here?” she asked.
His answering smile was louder than the music playing all around them.
“It’s not a waltz, but I think I could keep up, what about you?” he said.
Her lips twisted, but there were some things that had to be done.
“Are we going to dance on a table?” she asked, gesturing to the crowded room.
He leaned forward, and his voice was a caress over her body.
“Oh, Lucinda.”
A moment later, he was up, and she watched as he found Agnes talking in the corner, and the moment her face lit up, Luci knew she was going to lose this battle.
Sure enough, a few sharp words from Agnes to several gentlemen, and they were picking up tables and pulling them into the hallway and corners to create a makeshift dance floor.
When they were through, Ira returned and held out his hand to her.
Too late to turn back now, she slipped her hand into his and loved the way he gripped it like he wasn’t afraid of her in the least. It did occur to her that she may need to put a little fear into him.
As they made their way in front of the musicians, the singer, who was a woman with long black hair and heavily hooded deep brown eyes, tapped her ear twice, looking to Ira.
“Mermaid Song, please,” he said.
Midnights, this man. It was a very fast-paced song about how the mermaid longs for land and the prince on it.
She barely survived the predictable pace of a waltz.
Yet she knew he chose it on purpose when the musicians started the beat and the first lilt of the woman’s voice began. Luci never looked away from Ira.
It was too hard for him to hide his smug smile, but it only fueled her more.
“Try to keep up,” she said.
Midnight, she loved his laugh. More than that, she liked the feeling in her chest when she was the one who made him do it.
Luckily for Luci, this was one of Brielle’s favorite songs, and she’d spent many a night twirling with her until they were both breathless and collapsed on the floor.
With a bold wink from Ira, they began to move, at first tentative and learning each other, but they’d done this once before, and as it turned out, it wasn’t hard to remember.
Their feet moved together, and only once this time did she step on his toe, but he was quick to maneuver them.
By the time he spun her, she felt lighter than she had in a long time.
Maybe it was the wine or the people gathered around clapping.
Maybe it was Cochran holding Calcifer in his arms while he beamed up at them, Calcifer staring like they were all interrupting his nap.
Maybe it was even the faint smell of cinnamon in the air that bespoke of meddling fairy godmothers, but when Ira twirled her, she laughed.
And when he pulled her into his arms and dipped her back, she wasn’t afraid he would drop her.
Instead, she let herself fall and fall and fall.
The beating of her heart worked in time with the beat of their steps, and his wide smile was her north star.
By the time the music slowed and the singer belted out her last call for a new world, Ira pulled her in for one last spin, and she landed with her back to his chest, her gaze locked to his while their chests heaved with the effort.
Claps erupted all around them, but for that moment, breathless, dizzy, and free, it was only them. Safe.
It was easy to drown in his eyes. They were like leaves in early spring, just newly remade and ready to live life. Flecks of gold mixed in as unpredictably as Ira Vencia. His grip on her was strong, reassuring. He wouldn’t let her fall, and he’d be there if she did.
“The Midnight Dance!” someone called out.
Ira’s smile broke every resolve she’d ever had. She was nothing except what he saw her as. Her past in tatters, floating in the wind.
The music began again, and this time it was slow and steady, none of the sudden rifts and drops of the last. More couples gathered around them, and soon some were sitting around and even on tables.
Cochran and Calcifer back by the fireplace, Calcifer back to sleep in his lap.
It was like the room decided this was completely normal and to go about their business.
Ira raised a single eyebrow, a question.
In answer, she spun and faced him, holding out her hand. Light above, he was beautiful with the way his throat bobbed, and when he dipped his head to her ear, she died a little.
“Remind me never to bet against you,” he said.
There was nothing witty to say in her mind; she was all heat and air when he placed his hand on her waist and pulled her in a little closer. The press of his body against hers was a promise if she only asked it of him. Midnight, she wanted to.
Breathless, she followed his steps, lost in those green eyes that made her see stars.
How unexpected he was. Never had she been the one to swoon for the prince in the stories, yet here she was lost in one and the same.
Except he wasn’t like those stories. He was thoughtful, kind, funny, but above all, he saw her and didn’t turn away.
In a lot of ways, it felt like she had spent her whole life running.
Running from the invisible clock on Brielle’s life, the shame of her past, the abandonment she couldn’t shake.
In a small inn, in a small village, dancing with a prince, Luci realized one simple fact. She was done running.
“Your eyes are green,” she murmured, raising her hand to brush strands of hair from his forehead.
His eyes flashed, remembering, but this time he didn’t grin. Instead, he looked at her just the way he had in a ballroom full of whispers. Like she was shining.
“Incandescently beautiful,” he said.
And that was the moment Luci knew she was lost. Not because he called her beautiful, but because when he looked at her, she felt beautiful. Like she was something to be treasured and adored, and for the first time in her life, she thought that was true.
And that was how Luci fell in love. In a small inn, in a small village. Beneath a good man’s gaze.