Chapter 20
Still No Gems
Are you really going to use the second sight all night? Hymn asked, as Eiko stood by the refreshments table and popped another cream puff between her lips.
She was parting her golden chains with one hand so that the cream puffs had an unobstructed pathway to her mouth.
It also wasn’t exactly a refreshments table in the official sense of the word.
It was just a tall table, wide enough for one of the trays the attendants had been carrying around.
She had commandeered an entire tray and was now attempting to fuel her power so that she wouldn’t be stumbling around in the dark for the rest of the night.
Walking into the Copperlight Thingy had felt like a dream, at first. People stared (mostly at Rion) and whispered adoringly (probably about Rion) and gasped with glee when Rion was asked to dance with a lordly gentleman after barely ten steps into the hall.
Eiko was also asked to dance by an equally lordly fellow, but she declined on account of the cream puffs that had caught her eye barely ten steps into the hall. That was one whole tray ago. The second tray now sat atop the first, and she was beginning to garner a different type of stare.
“Ah, there you are,” a familiar, velvety voice slid across the exposed skin of her collarbone. “Poised as ever, Eiko. Where in the dark are you putting all that food?”
Ceran was standing in front of her, suddenly, holding out his gloved hand for her to take. He was dressed in gold, delicate chains dangling from the pockets of his formal jacket. He had been dressed to match her, or her to match him; she wasn’t sure which.
“In my stomach,” she said dumbly, a little struck by the handsome prince.
What was it about him? Corvan was handsome, but he didn’t stir her.
He … did nothing for her, really. Chasin was beautiful, but he certainly didn’t have his brother’s unfailing charm.
He terrified her. Stirred her ire. He may have even inspired hatred with his little poisoning trick.
But he didn’t make her blush and lose her words.
Ren was handsome. Ren made her feel warm and safe and excited.
But Ren didn’t make her heart flop. Nobody made her heart flop … except … Ceran?
You sound confused, Hymn said. Does he make you flop or not?
You tell me, she grumbled. You’re the one living inside my chest.
It’s flopping, he confirmed. Curious.
Why curious? she demanded. Is he not handsome?
Ceran’s brows knit together, and he looked down at his waiting hand and then back at her. And then he remembered she was blind, and the bashful, self-aware cringe that momentarily scrunched his features made her heart flop. Again.
“May I take your hand?” he asked politely.
He is very handsome, Hymn confirmed. The other ladies seem to think so too.
Eiko had been too focused on the cream puffs to notice, but she supposed there was quite the gaggle of women hovering nearby, sighing over Ceran’s gallant offer of a hand.
Eiko placed her bare hand into his gloved one—or at least, she tried to.
Something was in the way. She glanced down at the cream puff threatening to explode between their palms and quickly snatched it up and plopped it back onto the tray.
A passing attendant paused, doing a double-take at the unattended tray, his eyes widening in panic over its lack of guardianship in such prestigious company.
He quickly snatched it up, and because Eiko didn’t want to give away her second sight, she allowed it to happen.
But her blood ran hot.
Mine. Those cream puffs were hers. He deserved to bleed for stealing them—
Eiko? Hymn asked, concerned.
She blinked, the blurry haze of rage receding, her free hand uncurling from the tight fist she had formed.
“Shall we dance?” Ceran asked, already pulling her onto the floor, probably sparing her the embarrassment of lingering on the cream puff moment, especially since it wasn’t her first time offering a scrap of food to a royal’s waiting palm like a mangy cat dropping a mangled rat’s corpse to the feet of their owner.
“Of course, Your Grace,” she said, even though he was already drawing her close, leading her gently through the glide of the crowd.
What was that? Hymn demanded. What happened back there?
I don’t know, she admitted. I think I’m approaching that time in my cycle.
Hymn was buzzing around her ribcage unhappily, stressed out by her brief flash of proprietary aggression.
She was a little worried herself, but she already had enough on her plate, so she pushed it into a little box in her mind, labelling it “Hey, so … no big deal or anything, but today I almost bit off the hand of a castle attendant for confiscating my cream puffs.”
The music swelled as Ceran pulled her into his arms. The melody was rich and layered, gentle and teasing.
Ceran guided her so steadily that it put her at immediate ease.
One of his hands gripped her waist, the other held hers at a respectful distance.
He moved as though he had danced like this his whole life, and there was something about him that just made it easy to follow.
She had never danced—not like this. She had twirled and played and mocked these sorts of dances with Ky and Rion.
Ceran led her so calmly, so charmingly, that she didn’t even have a chance to stumble or grow awkward.
She let him steer her, the chandeliers flaring above them, the polished marble catching reflections of gold and silk and metal.
The air smelled of citrus peel and warm wine and crushed flowers.
Ceran himself smelled like clean soap and something faintly spiced.
Is this it? Hymn asked nervously. Is it happening? What do we do?
Please don’t make me even more nervous, she begged.
Ceran laughed softly, the sound close to her ear. “You’re thinking very loudly.”
“It’s a lot,” she replied rapidly, before wincing. “Sorry. That came out … sharper than intended.”
“I like your sharpness,” he said easily. “It’s cute.”
Her heart did another irritating little flop.
Over … cute? What the actual fuck was wrong with her?
Maybe that crazy monster she had encountered in Blackreach, right before Hymn reached out to her, had been right.
Maybe all she really wanted in life was to be a princess.
To marry one of the golden princes. To be called beautiful and cute and be draped in gold.
She didn’t think she wanted that, but what other conclusion could she reach?
Here was a prince—one of the golden ones, no less—paying her compliments and offering to make her a princess, and she was blushing and playing along and only entertaining a mild thread of panic, instead of what should have been an entire flood of panic.
Because she hadn’t chosen this. She had been forced into this.
So why was her heart flopping? Why did it almost feel like she wanted this?
I can’t make sense of your feelings, Hymn complained.
That makes two of us, she complained right back.
They swayed in time with the music, Ceran’s steps sure, hers careful but improving. He adjusted automatically before she moved in the wrong direction, calmly correcting her before she could embarrass them both, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Across the hall, the music shifted, a second melody threading in, lighter and brighter.
The crowd parted as Corvan stepped onto the floor with Rion, the two of them instantly commanding attention.
Rion moved like she had been born to swirl into the centre of a crowd, her posture flawless, her smile radiant but restrained, her laugh floating over to Eiko in a familiar caress.
She looked more like a queen than the actual queen.
Did she get gems? Hymn asked.
Eiko hated that she had already checked. Nope.
Ceran also looked in that direction, his expression softening. “Your friend is remarkable. I would never be able to tell she wasn’t highborn.”
“She always has been,” Eiko agreed. “This setting just … gives her more of an opportunity to show it.”
They turned, the music drawing them into a wider circle, and Eiko became acutely aware of eyes on her. Curious and speculative. People were whispering.
“I’m glad to see you looking healthier,” Ceran said, perhaps trying to distract her. “You had us worried at the fitting.”
She frowned in the general direction of his face, choosing not to focus on him too steadily. “Us?”
“Me,” he amended, smirking.
“Worried?” she challenged, raising a brow.
“Dark be damned, woman. You’re impossible to charm.”
She chuckled. “It’s easier than you’d think.” Her attention snagged on a gemstone twinkling out at her from his coat. She allowed her hand to slip down from his shoulder, pretending to find it by touch. Accidentally. “What’s this?”
He eased her hand away, placing it back on his shoulder. “A family heirloom. You’ll find there’s plenty of those around here.”
“Gems?”
“Heirlooms,” he said with a laugh.
“Oh. Right.” She registered the quick flash of white teeth and the tousle of copper-gold hair as he tipped his head back to laugh, baring the strong column of his throat.
But her attention kept dragging back to the gem. It was large and dark, almost a fathomless black. She wanted to touch it again.
And maybe steal it.
The tempo of the music quickened, making it a little harder to appear graceful, but Ceran once again took it in his stride, easily gliding with her across the polished floor. The music shifted again, slowing, deepening, and all around her, the pairs drew a step closer to their partners.
Corvan led Rion back onto the floor, making Eiko’s brow furrow slightly. How long had she been dancing for?
“I’m sorry about this,” Ceran muttered low.
Eiko’s stomach dropped.
Oh no, Hymn said faintly. Oh no no no, we’re not ready.
Ceran’s steps slowed. He turned her gently, so they were facing one another fully, the world around them receding into a blur of colour and softly swaying shapes.