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I’m so startled by the move that I can’t form a word of protest. Up until now, Eryx and I had made a game of rejecting our admirers. Now he’s hand-delivering me to one?

How dare he?

I’ll kill him. This time for real.

The last thing I see is Eryx disappearing behind a group of people, still engrossed in conversation with the men from the army.

And then I’ve nowhere to look but at the earl before me.

“Your Grace, I have to tell you how divine you look tonight. You put all the other women in the room to shame.”

“You hardly need to pay me a compliment by insulting the other women in the room,” I state.

He laughs as though I’ve said something funny.

“Where is your mistress tonight?” I ask, trying to keep my tone pleasant.

“At my home, waiting for me. Parties overwhelm her. She doesn’t like to go out.”

Doesn’t like to? Or he doesn’t let her?

“Tell me, Your Grace, did you receive my letters?” he asks.

“I didn’t. They must have gotten lost in transit.”

“Pity. I’ll have to write you new ones.”

“Perhaps you should spend time focusing on the woman you’re already keeping.”

“There’s no need to be jealous. You have my full attention right now. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Just who does he think he is? One of the gods’ gifts to this world? Hardly.

I swear it’s the longest dance I’ve ever been subjected to, and it doesn’t help when I catch sight of my sister and the king dancing.

They’re almost indecently close to one another, with his hand low on her back. They’re staring into each other’s eyes like they can’t get enough.

I feel that familiar rage try to overcome me again. There my sister is with a man who loves her. Who’s treating her well. How does Alessandrakeep doing that? What secret has she learned that I haven’t? Why does she get what she wants when here I am, yet again, subjected to someone who thinks more of his polished boots than he does of me?

It takes a moment, but I direct the rage where it belongs, staring daggers at the man holding me.

When the five-minute-long dance ends, the earl tightens his grip on me. “Let’s do another.”

“My lord, as the sister to the queen, I have many duties to perform tonight. You must excuse me to see if she needs anything.”

“The queen is preparing for another dance with the king.”

“I’m feeling fatigued. I’d like a drink.”

“After the dance.”

He sweeps me along into the next song. No matter how I try to pull away, his grip tightens, and his left hand strays far too low.

On the next step, I tread on his foot. Hard.

He grunts, and though he must be surprised, he doesn’t let up.

So I do it again.