Chapter 10 #2
The dance was a brisk waltz. Nicolas held her right hand softly in his left while his other hand grazed her waist, each pressure point sending fire through her dress.
Something in this man’s touch reached down to her very soul, somehow intimate without feeling violating, and for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why.
Jade locked eyes with him, drawn to this mysterious stranger. He stood more than a full head taller than her, and Jade’s hand met solid muscle where she laid it on his shoulder.
He led her expertly around the room as though he’d been waltzing almost as long as he could walk, which was probably true.
The nobility had their children spend inordinate amounts of time on such foolish things as learning how to dance.
If Jade didn’t know any better, dancing likely came to Nicolas as easily as breathing.
She had spent countless hours practicing as part of her military training to make sure her movements could be seen equally as effortless.
Not to mention that her mother had taught her a few dances when she was younger.
Jade recognized the intense need to pull her eyes away from him, to survey the crowd as they covered the majority of the dance floor, but something in Nicolas’s dark eyes was mesmerizing.
A peal of laughter to her right helped break the spell and pulled her gaze to the chuckling elites.
Her head swiveled as she and Nicolas moved, searching for the deep maroon of Arabella’s gown.
“What part of Ellyris are you from?” he asked as they swirled in time with the other dancers.
Jade dragged her attention away from the crowd and focused on him.
She’d come up with a highly detailed backstory for her character in case anyone asked such questions, but she’d never expected to have to get away with it with another Ellyrisan.
The names and places she’d give the aristocrats of Tourrine wouldn’t mean much to them.
“Overlan.” Giving him short, undetailed answers might be the only way to keep up her ruse with him. She’d have to pray he wouldn’t ask too many questions or be too familiar with the people and places in her answers.
“Ah, the north,” he replied. “That makes the journey up here a bit more manageable.”
Jade had to ask, her curiosity piqued. “And where are you from?”
“A town in Ivearennie called Rushing Cape. Very few people I’ve come across have heard of it.”
Jade tried her best to maintain a serene expression while she studied him, her senses back on alert.
His response wasn’t accurate; that much was clear.
His eyes lifted over her head to the room beyond.
His left hand shifted in her grasp. His throat bobbed.
Signs that others either would not notice or would not identify as indicators he was lying.
What did he have to gain by lying about where he was from? Could he be from a different part of Ellyris, or was he not from Ellyris at all?
His disingenuousness captured Jade’s attention. She didn’t recognize him as a member of the royal family, but he could be working for one of them. Perhaps he was a spy for Lord Grannam, sent here to sniff out people exactly like Jade.
“I’m afraid you’re right; I haven’t heard of it,” Jade answered in truth, maintaining a cool disposition though her mind whirred with possibilities.
He shrugged as though he expected her answer. “It’s no matter. We’re both here now.”
Jade raised her eyebrows briefly. “There’s no time like the present.”
Lady Arabella came into view past Nicolas’s shoulder, and Jade watched her, keeping her gaze on her even as they turned.
She chatted with Alanna and someone else, and even behind her small mask, her foul mood was apparent.
Her lips turned down in a scowl as she spoke to a man Jade could only see from the back.
Arabella leaned in close to him, the words firing from her mouth, and he gestured with his hands before Arabella straightened again and crossed her arms.
Something was wrong. Arabella was upset. What had she hoped would happen tonight? Had it not gone her way?
“You certainly do enjoy people-watching.” Nicolas’s smooth voice latched on to Jade and pulled her eyes away from Arabella.
“Well, everyone here seems so interesting. I mean”—Jade tipped her head back and leaned in toward Nicolas to get centimeters closer to him, making her wide-eyed gaze intense with awe—“the royal family is here. I just saw Lady Arabella and Lady Alanna!”
She allowed her faux glee to overflow, giggling like a silly, bubbly debutante. Nicolas’s expression froze and something in it appeared to falter as he studied her, but Jade couldn’t put her finger on the change in his expression, unable to see much behind the massive mask.
After a moment, he lifted his gaze to the surrounding crowd. “Yes, they are quite amusing, aren’t they?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “I imagine you’ve heard Arabella is attempting to claim the throne.”
Jade watched him closely but kept her countenance light. Who was he to refer so casually to Arabella without her title? Did he have a stake in the conflict? “Oh, yes, I heard something about that, I think. But it’ll be hers eventually, anyway.”
“Will it?” Nicolas brought his intense brown eyes down again, boring them into Jade’s.
A spark lit his eyes—a spark that was extinguished before it grew into a flame.
Nicolas cleared his throat and twirled them to a halt as the music ended, his hands leaving Jade to add to the applause.
Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she followed suit, turning toward the orchestra and clapping.
Fabric rustled around them, but Jade and Nicolas remained frozen on the dance floor, their eyes magnetically drawn to each other once again.
Jade’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths from the dance and her rising heart rate.
There was something about this man that she couldn’t brush aside.
This was the perfect opportunity to step away and get close to those vying for the throne, to find out if any of them had hired an assassin or discover their plans, but her feet wouldn’t move.
In the end, she didn’t have to make the choice to leave.
“Would you care for another dance, Elena?”
The low rumble of Nicolas’s voice tugged at Jade’s very being and rooted her to the spot. A slow, sly smile spread across her face, and she raised her hand for him to take again.
They took their places among the other dancers as the music began, this time a slower tempo.
Nicolas wound his right hand around her waist, reaching the small of her back and drawing her body closer to his than before.
An involuntary gasp hitched in Jade’s throat, but in a second, she regained control and tried to pass it off as part of her character.
“Something wrong?” Nicolas asked as he took her right hand in his relaxed grip and moved them in rhythm around the dance floor.
Jade flung her free hand up to his shoulder, missing the cue in her momentary lapse. “I wasn’t prepared for the start of the dance, that’s all. I’m afraid I haven’t had much experience with formal dances yet outside of my lessons and occasional practices with my cousins.”
She hoped she had set her face behind her mask enough that he wouldn’t catch her astonishment at the pressure of his hand on her back or the removal of space between them. Heat radiated from Nicolas’s body as they swirled in
time on the dance floor, and a headiness washed over Jade that she had to physically dispel with a shake of her head. Who was this man, and what was it about him that sent her hurtling past her training and composure?
Something in his hold felt almost possessive—familiar, even, like they had some kind of history prior to that moment—but Jade didn’t pull away or stiffen in his grasp.
If he truly was a spy himself or had some ulterior motives, she didn’t want to give him any reason to think her suspicious.
And there was something about him that eased her misgivings and told her to lose herself in the moment.
“My apologies for beginning before you were ready,” he said in a low voice as he leaned his face closer to hers. “I’m afraid I’m a bit out of practice myself.”
Out of practice? Hardly. He carried her across the room as though he’d danced as recently as yesterday.
Forcing her gaze past him, Jade searched the place she had last seen Arabella, but the lady was gone.
Jade mentally cursed at herself for allowing this man to distract her and lose sight of her objective.
To her surprise and relief, she located Arabella again quickly, and the man with whom she conversed this time almost made Jade pause and trip over her feet.
Lord Grannam.
The Duke of Evenshold stood in the shadows under the overhang of the open stairs that curved into the ballroom on one end of the room.
Jade may never have noticed him if not for Arabella.
Grannam stood facing the dancers, dressed in a white military-style suit that reflected his rank as honorary commander—a title that came with his royalty and gave him no governance over the military, though he still used it to his own advantage.
About a foot away from him to his left stood Arabella, who watched the crowd as well.
His thinning light brown hair was streaked with gray, matching his trimmed mustache and beard.
He stood a few inches taller than Arabella, his wide shoulders and thick abdomen giving him a more prominent presence in the room.
Though he had put on some weight with age, his solid form spoke to the muscle of his younger years that still lay underneath.