CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE #3
To my left there was a banner for House Bathiner, a chimera in flames. I stilled, my eyes locking immediately with Jaron’s. He was seated with them, though he wore a vest with a stag embroidered across it. His brows furrowed, his eyes hooded before he glanced away from me.
I turned to my right and found the table for House Kanos. The silver of the unicorn gleamed against the torches, and the Spartvan King and Queen clapped loudly, their grins wide and their emotions rising.
The final wall of the room, the table sitting opposite the king's, was another for House Lafir. So he had his allies in front of him and behind him.
I knew there were other noble houses in Eskalon, but none, apparently, had been permitted to show their banners tonight. Or perhaps they had not been invited at all. I was shocked House Bathiner had been allowed after what transpired the night before.
Brennan rose to his feet, walking around the table, and took my hand, bowing before me as he pressed a soft kiss to my palm.
A shiver ran down my spine, and goosebumps rose across my arm as my pulse raced beneath his touch.
Then we were seated, and the room filled with castle servants putting out trays and trays of food across the tables. Wine was poured into every goblet, while personal maids and servants stood behind the tables should any of the nobles need their help.
I nearly gaped at the amount of food lining the tables. I thought they’d served an immense amount last night, but apparently, what was served in the tent had only been an appetizer for the ball.
Our balls in Azeal had never seen such waste. Nor had our regular meals. I’d been luckier than most, growing up as a princess, but even I had gone without as my people’s magic weakened, and the chimera grew bolder.
While we ate, various nobles approached with small gifts, purses full of coins, and bouquets of fresh flowers to present as engagement presents.
We pored over each one, thanking them before the gifts were collected and removed by Abigail.
After each attendee finished their well wishes to us, they bowed before King Tirian, who presided over everyone in another makeshift throne raised off the ground so he sat several inches above Brennan and me.
In the distance, music played, and I found Finlay and Thomas were back, along with several other musicians I didn’t recognize, perhaps from the castle, playing softly.
When most of the party had finished their meals and were on their third and fourth cup of wine, the music grew in volume, becoming a dance song as Finlay’s unmistakable beats set the rhythm.
“Dance,” Tirian said suddenly.
A few nobles had already abandoned their seats.
They linked hands, forming a circle that went around nearly the full expanse of the room.
More and more guests began to rise from their tables, joining in, as well as many of the ladies-in-waiting.
Abigail joined the formation of a second circle when the first grew too full, and almost immediately there was the need to create a third within.
Brennan smiled shyly. “We’re to be in the center.”
I nodded. “Then we shall.”
“Princess,” he said, rising to his feet. “Will you do me the honor of dancing with me?”
“Yes,” I said, and took his hand. Another shiver ran down my spine. My neck flushed as he formally placed my palm on his arm, and then he led me into the center of the dance.
The attendees continued to move in circles around us. A fourth had formed, and now each circle was going in a different direction, creating a disorienting effect.
Brennan wrapped one arm around my waist, took my hand with the other, and spun me.
I knew the song they were playing. I’d danced to it many times, though I’d never actually seen the couple’s version of it.
Brennan knew the steps well, and not only that, he knew how to lead, and easily moved me into the rhythm of choreography, dancing me around and around.
My feet followed his, my hips flowing and twisting along with every turn we made.
He was as skilled and in command of our dance as he was when we kissed.
As our eyes met, I had the distinct feeling that he was thinking of those moments, too.
His hand tightened on mine, and the song’s tempo increased. Brennan offered me a sly grin and began the steps anew as I followed. Our steps through the choreography matched Finlay’s rhythm, beat for beat.
We were performing so well, the dancers circling around us began to slow so they could watch and cheer.
Brennan pulled me closer, repeating the steps, turning us again and again until I was dizzy with laughter.
He pulled me in close, his nose nuzzling my neck before he whispered in my ear, “You’re really good at this.”
My heart thundered with the compliment and the intimacy of how he’d given it. It was like our first night together in the tavern.
When I was a Samara—Samara who he was looking for.
And now I was Olivay. My chest tightened before it heaved against his tunic.
Was I supposed to be a good dancer? Was Olivay? There was nothing in the notes. I had to assume she was well trained as any princess would be. But despite knowing what colors she liked, or desert she hated, I had no idea if she was a precise dancer, or more loosely followed the steps.