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Before anything more could be said, Mikale appeared in the doorway and there she was on his arm. Her gold dress was stunning, though nothing he would picture her choosing for herself. Her face was as beautiful as ever, but her eyes seemed distant and far away. The ring she always wore was missing from her finger, and no other jewelry appeared on her, save for the earrings and her spirit amulet. As striking as she was, though, none of that was what made his eyes widen as she entered. Shadows swirled around her, trailing in her wake like fog on a cool morning. Some were slight and came in and out of view. Others were tightly coiled around her, especially her forearms, but there was no mistaking them for anything else.

“What is that?” he breathed to Cassius.

“I do not know,” Cassius answered, his lips pressing into a thin line.

They watched as Mikale led her to the table and pulled a chair out for her. She sat, leaning to the side to allow a servant to pour her wine. The servant had barely stepped back when she picked up the goblet and drank the entire thing,batting her lashes at Mikale as she held it up for the servant to refill it.

“Shit,” Cassius muttered under his breath. Then, as if remembering a prince was in his presence, he added, “Your pardon, your Highness.”

“She is drinking wine. That hardly seems worth worrying about. We are supposed to be celebrating, are we not?” Callan replied grimly to the Commander.

Mikale bent down to whisper something in her ear, and a smile Callan had never seen spread across her face. It was a smile of malice, and he watched as she ran her finger along the side of Mikale’s face, saying something in response none of them could hear.

“No, your Highness. She is not celebrating. Your Wraith of Shadows is playing. That is not Scarlett as you know her. That is Death’s Maiden,” Cassius said. “She is playing a very dangerous game, likely to get us information. If you ever loved her, you will join the game and play tonight.”

Mikale straightened and made his way over to them. “Callan,” he said, bowing before him.

He felt Cassius elbow him in the ribs, and he remembered where he was and why he was here. “Mikale,” he said, smiling and reaching to grasp his hand. “It appears congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you, my friend,” Mikale said, shaking his hand in return. “I have been anxious to introduce her to you. It has been a whirlwind of a romance, but when you find the one, you know.”

“That is what they say,” Callan said. His face hurt from the fake smile he was working so hard to keep on his face. He would do this. For her. He would play along as Cassius had put it, to learn what they needed to learn.

“My apologies. Has no one offered you a drink? Veda?” Mikale snapped his fingers for a servant and looked around for his sister. At the sound of her name, she appeared as quickly as Cassius and Drake disappeared from his side.

“It appears your fiancé has chosen the wine for herself,” Callan said with a raise of his brow as he saw her glass being refilled again.

“She is nervous about meeting you,” Mikale said, but Callan could see the ire he was working to keep from his face. Drake reappeared and began a conversation with Mikale as he made to move to her, and a second later, Callan saw why as Cassius slipped into a chair beside her. Scarlett turned to him and rested her head on her hand as if bored. Cassius made no move to touch her. With her other hand, her finger traced the rim of her wine glass. Those shadows moved among her hair that flowed down around her shoulders. He couldn’t help but remember the last time his hands were in that hair.

“Mikale,” Callan said suddenly. Time. Cassius needed time with Scarlett. Drake was trying to give him that. “Didn’t you get new racing hounds?”

“I did,” Mikale said slowly.

“I would love to see them,” Callan said. “I have been in the market. My tried and trues are aging, I am afraid.”

“Perhaps after dinner, your Highness. It is about ready,” Mikale said. His tone had shifted. It was stiff, and his eyes had darkened. He had spotted Cassius with Scarlett. As if his words summoned the food, a servant announced dinner was served. “Come, Callan. Head of the table, of course.”

Callan followed Mikale to the table. A servant pulled his chair back for him and once he had sat, Mikale slid into the chair to his right, next to Scarlett. Veda took the chair to Callan’s left.

“Commander,” Mikale said tightly. “I had thought you would sit next to my sister?”

“Oh, I would love to sit next to Veda, if you do not mind,” Tava said, sliding into the chair without waiting for a confirmation. “We have just been discussing all the wedding details. You men do not realize everything that must be done. A year-long engagement is hardly enough time, let alone a few weeks.” Her smile was pointed as she picked up her own glass of wine before her and stared at Mikale. Drake claimed the chair next to his sister.

Callan glanced sidelong at Scarlett…who was smirking like a cat.He discreetly looked to Cassius, who appeared completely unconcerned as he sat beside her, acting like he saw this side of her every day, and it was nothing new. But this, the woman who sat at this table, was nothing like the one he had kissed and shared whispers across pillows with in the dark hours of the night.

She brought her wine back to her lips. She had propped her foot onto her chair and her elbow rested on her knee. She was the picture of apathy. “My dear Mikale,” she purred. They were the first words Callan had heard her say since he’d been here. He felt her voice skitter along his bones. That voice that had purred in his own ear so often. That voice of shadows and darkness that would speak from the night in his rooms, now only in his dreams. “I told you my friends are quite rude and care nothing for propriety.”

“One would think they would remember such things in the presence of a prince,” Mikale ground out.

“Oh, yes,” she said and turned to face Callan, dropping her foot to the floor and straightening. He could hardly breathe as her entire attention became focused on him. Those blue eyes were flecked with gold and swirling shadows, and they looked him up and down with interest. “How rude of me to forget.”

“Prince Callan, meet Scarlett Monrhoe,” Mikale said, his eyes on Scarlett. “My betrothed.”

“Congratulations, Lady,” Callan said, with a slight nod of his head.

Her smile went serpentine. “I am no Lady.” Callan actually had to keep himself from flinching in his chair as her eyes held his.

“She is shy of the title,” Mikale cut in, and he seemed to almost sigh in relief when the first course was brought out, a vegetable soup from the summer bounty.