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He must have registered the sudden closeness too, because we leaned back and faced our plates at the exact same time.

Tamping down this strange sense of thrill that spread through my entire body and turned my insides liquid, I took a long sip from my wine to cool off and a bite from my plate to distract myself from him. “This is so good, Walder. It’s the best food I’ve ever had, honestly.”

“Told you he’s a marvelous cook,” Agathe chirped, drinking from her tiny cup.

“Good company is always inspiring,” said Walder. “You know, you’re more than welcome to stay for a few more days if you want to rest before you continue with your journey.”

“Walder,” Apollo warned.

“Apollo,” Walder echoed ruefully, some sort of challenge shimmering in his eyes. An entire silent conversation unraveled in that tense look they shared. “Since you’re clearly not very hungry, why don’t you play us something on the piano? I’m afraid I’ve grown too rusty to entertain you properly.”

“You play the piano?” I squeaked, nearly knocking my glass over.

I wasn’t sure why I found it so outrageous—he was a prince, after all. I just couldn’t picture him pouring into something so pleasant and appropriate. In fact, the only things I could picture Apollo Zayra practicing—most likely in the mirror—were dangerous smiles and indecent words.

“I had a very thorough education,” Apollo bit out and took yet another generous sip of wine. Was that his third glass already? Gods, how many glasses hadIhad?

“He’s also proficient in several fae dialogues, is an accomplished fencer, and is anexcellentballroom dancer,” Walder egged on.

I snorted with laughter and clapped my hands together. “Okay,thatI have to see.”

“Oh, I know just the song too!” Walder exclaimed, launching to his feet. He went to the piano, sat down on the little matching stool in front of it, and began playing the most beautiful, sweeping melody, the kind of music that could lure you into all kinds of wild daydreams and romantic fascinations.

Apollo, who’d grown an alarming shade of red, shot daggers at his friend’s back. “Too rusty, huh?”

Walder grinned at us over his shoulder, his fingers deft and unfaltering on the keys. “Like I said, good company inspires me.”

“Come on, Apollo,” Agathe goaded. “Dance with Nepheli.”

I choked on a piece of potato. “Gods,” I coughed and gulped it down with wine. “I’m not a very good dancer. I hardly remember how—”

“Apollo can show you,” Agathe interjected before I could even finish.

“Nepheli doesn’t want to dance, Agathe,” Apollo gritted out.

“Nonsense! Of course, she wants to dance!” Walder cut in, the melody reaching a reprieve before outbursting again. “If I were your age, I would never be found sitting down.”

Apollo cast him a withering look. “You’re eternal.”

“And you’re a bore,” Walder tutted. “Would you prefer to play the piano while I dance with Nepheli?”

For some reason, this seemed to aggravate Apollo even more. “Will you leave me alone?” he growled.

“No!” Agathe and Walder chimed in unison.

Apollo sighed in resignation, rose to his feet, and offered me his arm. “What do you say, darling? Want to get it over with?”

“How can I refuse such a heartwarming invitation,” I mocked, slinking a hand around his elbow.

The warm, sparkling sensation the wine had given me shot from my chest straight to my knees as I stood up, and I had to tighten my grip on Apollo’s exquisitely hard bicep for some steadiness. He didn’t seem to notice my teetering, though, as he guided me to the little space between the piano and the table. His face was a perfect mask of cold sobriety.

Perhaps it was the wine talking, but he did look like the cultured young prince he once was as he stood there in the firelight before me. Poised and handsome and very certain within his body. The way he led my hand to his shoulder. The way he slipped his own over the small of my back and nudged me closer. The way he looked down at me, a bit flushed but steadfast and assured. And he smelled good, too. So good, I had the urge to bury my face in his chest and drown myself in his scent.

Oh, this wasdefinitelythe wine talking.

He fixed his hold on my waist and stepped closer. The sudden nearness made me keenly aware of my tactility, the bones beneath my skin, and my heart squeezed in the middle. We’d touched before. We’d been this close—closer, even. Yet this felt different somehow. These had been touches of necessity or unavoidable proximity. This was both easier and harder. Easier because his warm, strong body fell into such effortless alignment with mine, you’d think we’d done this a hundred times before. Harder because the closeness made my head swim with stars and my stomach swarm with butterflies.

I licked my dry lips and admitted, “I don’t think I remember how to do this.”