Chapter 35 #2
“Do you need saving again?” a smooth voice asks next to me, and I grin up at Admiral Morgan. “Huh, I wonder how you survive without me around.”
I laugh, drawing Tate’s attention, and when he sees who stands next to me, his scowl deepens. I roll my eyes at him and turn back to Morgan.
“So is Marina visiting during the trials?”
“She is actually.” His eyes drift over to a woman, marching in our direction. “And I have to go. But I’ll introduce you two soon,” he promises. “It was nice seeing you again.” He kisses my hand with a wink and leaves in the opposite direction from the approaching woman. I grin.
“Who was that delicious man?” Zaza whispers next to me.
“Admiral Morgan,” I say, and my eyes bounce back to the woman, who now searches the crowd. “And he was fleeing from a past conquest if I had to guess.” We laugh.
Observing the surrounding crowd is quite entertaining, and if there are new rumors circulating tomorrow, it might be our fault, as we pass the time by making up stories based on the behavior of the people around us.
“I didn’t expect to find you here.” The voice has me turning around, where I find Deliah’s pale face.
“It’s good to see you.” I hug her, careful not to spill the drink she carries, and glad for another friendly face in this sea of strangers.
“Here, take this.” She pushes the drink into my hand. “The gods know when you’ll be able to get your own.” I thank her, and she vanishes back into the crowd. But I don’t get to take even a sip before Frederick steps up to us.
I fight hard to keep the smile on my face, but relax slightly when he greets us formally, congratulates us on our role as part of Belarra's champions, and wishes us the best of luck. Then he turns to me.
“May I have a dance with the most beautiful woman in the room?” he asks, offering me his hand. The way his gaze flicks to Tate, I know it's just to bait him. I grind my teeth.
My pause is slightly too long, but there isn’t much I can do. So I graciously accept his offer and place my hand in his. He plucks the drink from my other hand, placing it onto the tray of a hovering server.
Everyone’s gaze is on me while Frederick leads me to the dance floor. But I don't look at my flight, afraid to meet Tate's eyes.
“Was that necessary?” I ask as soon as we are far enough away.
“Can’t I compliment my future bride? The dress looks stunning on you, darling.”
“Don't darling me,” I snap.
“What should I call you then?” he asks, and I swear there is humor in his voice.
“How about by my name?”
“Tamara, it is.” We reach the dance floor, and he pulls me in. Closer than I want to be, but it's what the dance asks for, so it's hard to disagree.
“Why do I have the impression you knew exactly which dance was coming?” I ask him.
He grins down at me. “Of course I did. I made the list.”
“We had an agreement to keep this a secret.”
“And I complied with it. I didn't address you as my soon-to-be wife or my future queen. Did I?” I look down to hide my grimace at the titles.
We move to the music, everyone giving us too much space for my liking.
“Why do you hate your brother so much?” The question slips out before I can stop it, and Frederick stiffens slightly.
“I have no brother,” he says, and my eyebrows rise.
“Funny, I could have sworn you introduced me to him the last time I was here,” I mock.
He doesn't answer.
“Couldn't you just … talk to him?” I’m well aware of how laughable the suggestion is, since I refuse to do the same, but then talking will resolve nothing in our case.
Frederick releases my hand and cups my face in what I'm sure looks like a tender gesture, but there is nothing soft in the way he makes me look into his eyes, his grip nearly bruising.
“If this is your attempt at getting out of this, don’t bother. I planned this, and I'm very much looking forward to seeing him suffer while he has to watch you on my arm. Your body swelling with my heir.”
“You're disgusting,” I hiss.
“We have a deal,” he reminds me. “You’re mine as soon as you're done at the academy, and he won't change that. You’d better make him see reason before I have to take more lasting measures.”
My eyes widen. “Are you for real? Are you threatening to kill your brother if I don't play along?”
“Those are your words, not mine,” he says just when the song ends, and gives me a cool smile and a nod before releasing me. All previous charm forgotten.
My legs tremble with the rage flowing through me, and I stalk over to the next seating area, focusing on taking deep, measured breaths the way Tate taught me. Struggling to keep my temper and gift in check.
“What did he say to you?” While quiet, there's such a threat in those words that I simply close my eyes and concentrate even harder on breathing. The couch next to me dips. Tate’s touch is soft as he guides my gaze toward him. I open my eyes, taking him in, making sure he is okay.
But I can't bring myself to repeat Frederick’s words. It will only cause more drama, so I shake my head. His knuckles skim over the place where Fred gripped me.
“I could kill him for this,” Tate murmurs.
“Don’t,” I tell him, not entirely sure if I mean don’t kill him or don’t touch me. Probably the latter.