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Before the panic could rise to choke me, knocking sounded, locks tumbled, and a uniformed guard opened the door. “It’s time,” he commanded, his words slightly slurred.

He extended his hand to me. Twin punctures marked his wrist.

I arched a brow and met his blurry eyes. Catching my pointed look, he winced, snapping his hand down.

Interesting.

Six guards escorted me through several long hallways to a massive set of double doors.

Gentle music and the low murmur of voices traveled to my ears. I took a deep breath to soothe my trembling nerves. Surely, a royal ball couldn’t be any more intimidating than facing an opponent on a battlefield.

Both doors swung open, and the guards made it clear I could either step into the room or have a dagger thrust into my back.

It wasn’t a simple choice to make. The dagger held a certain appeal.

At my appearance, a booming voice announced my name. Heads swiveled, and dozens peered at me as though I were the prized lamb at the local fair. The gamblers measured my worth. I imagined their voices in my head.How long will she survive in the challenge? Chances are she’ll go first. What good is the gift of illusion in battle? She’s sure to die. Terrible odds. No hope of winning.

Bula-holes.

I sucked a tight breath, scanning the room, noting familiar faces. The other competitors were already here. I was the last to arrive. Last, but not least. I raised my head and stalked into the space like I was the baddest thing in a pair of strappy sandals to ever walk the realm.

I almost pulled it off until a striking male with sleek silver hair and determined gray eyes made me miss a step.

Custodis.

He cut a path through the crowd like an arrow launched from a bow. Target? Me.

Again, that sense of fate washed over me, along with a flush of self-awareness. My confident swagger faltered. I’d never been overly conscious of my appearance, dressing more for ease of movement than style. Even now, I couldn’t care less what the royals thought. However, there was one opinion that mattered.

He stopped directly in front of me, motionless except for those predatory eyes of his that missed nothing. With a look, he consumed me, stole my image, locked it away, and held me prisoner with just his stare. And yet he said nothing.

He wasn’t the only one speechless.

My hungry gaze took him in, committed his likeness to memory, and burned it into my psyche.

His smoky gray tunic was richly embroidered with metallic stitching. A perfect match for the unyielding glint in his eyes. The tailored fit accentuated his broad shoulders, lean physique, and powerful build. But it wasn’t his clothes that demanded myattention, it was his stature. Victor Custodis had an air of lethal grace about him that no other male could imitate. Standing before him sent a chill rolling down my spine. But not one of fear, no, this was something else.

No one had made me feel like this in a very long time, if ever.

I clasped my hands, fighting the urge to fidget. “Don’t just stand there. Say something.”

“I have no words.” His voice emerged on a rasping growl that twirled a spiral of warmth through me.

The Great Victor Custodis was speechless. This was simply too good to pass up. I offered him a coy glance from beneath my lashes, whispering, “Try.”

In response, he claimed my hand, pressing a heated kiss to the inside of my wrist. Sparks shot along my nerve endings, and I shivered.

“Come.” His grip tightened. “Dance with me.”

Not waiting for my agreement, he dragged me into the mass of spinning bodies.

“I don’t know how to waltz,” I said to his back. Instead of the exuberant reel the villagers preferred, this aristocratic dance was stiff with intricate steps.

Ignoring my objection, he spun me into his arms, grasping my waist. “Follow my lead.”

I snorted a sardonic huff. “Me? Follow you?”

With Custodis guiding me, we twirled across the dance floor. Look at that? I did know how to waltz.