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Dagmara didn’t want to argue. She couldn’t without revealing that she blamed him for the death of Aleksy and Bogdan and was here to find that proof. Instead she stepped closer, wrapping her arm around his. “I can pretend to like you for one evening, Your Majesty.”

“Claude,” he said, his lips close to her ear. “Call me Claude.”

Then he turned to the double doors. They stood there in silence, waiting for them to open and reveal the ballroom beyond.

He let out a sigh beside her, before whispering under his breath, “This is for the betterment of our kingdoms.”

He was referring to the food supply Azurem would be providing, no doubt. He didn’t want to marry her. All this was so he could feed his people. It made her question everything she knew about the Mad King.

Yet she was no different. She never intended on marriage. This was a quest to avenge Bogdan and Aleksy—but also for medicine. This was for her brother.

Her voice was a whisper as she added to his statement, “and the safety of our people.”

His head whipped to her, meeting her gaze with ferocity. His eyes twinkled with an intensity she couldn’t discern. She wished she could understand what was behind the wall of the Mad King. She wished she knew the truth behind all the rumors.

He watched her with as much intrigue, as if her words struck a different chord inside him. There was no doubt he was trying to interpret her intentions as much as she was. She didn’t blame him. She was an imposter.

Neither of them realized that the doors had opened, and guests were watching them enraptured by one another.

The music to the Ilusaurian lullaby began, and both were startled back into reality. He led her out onto the balcony, pausing at the top of the staircase.

Dagmara froze, getting a glimpse of the ballroom. It was a lavish space, with mirrored panels covering the walls, ending in a glass window at the far end of the room. On the ceiling, hung at least a dozen chandeliers, their glittering lights reflecting on all sides and making the heavenly space seem more expansive than it was in reality. Instead of the gold paneling used in Azurem, the torches and decal were overlaid with metallic silver. Everything was pristinely polished, as if the platinum room was a purposeful distraction to the brittle fields outside.

There were nearly a hundred guests, and all eyes were upon Dagmara. They started down the staircase, and Dagmara prayed she wouldn’t trip on her dress. She tried to keep a pleasant face, but struggled to remain amicable when she heard whispers ripple throughout the room. Were they judging her this early on? She hadn’t even spoken yet.

At least she was going down the stairs. If these people had to watch her walk up them, they would know she wasn’t a guardian.

Then she found Sabien in the crowd. He was taking in every ounce of her body with his roaming eyes, a smirk on his face. She tried to ignore him, but her stomach curled with nerves.

When Dagmara and Claude reached the floor, the crowd parted like a ripple in a pond, creating space in the center. Claude shifted his grip, releasing her arm and taking her by the hand as he led her to the dance floor. With a tug at her fingertips, he pulled her close, her chest against his. She placed her free hand on his shoulder. Her wound had healed, but she hoped Claude didn’t catch sight of the small scar in the center of her palm.

“Eyes on me,” he said, his breath against her face. He wrapped his other arm around her, caressing her hip in the process. The sensation of his hand on her lower back sent a chill up her spine.

When the downbeat of the next stanza began, he started the dance.

It was nothing like practicing with Urszula. The king knew what he was doing, and he wasn’t afraid to lead. With his hand on Dagmara’s lower back, he nearly lifted her into the first movement. Her feet immediately remembered the choreography and matched his strides, afraid to step on him and embarrass herself in the process. She knew a turn was coming up, and she had fumbled through it every time, hoping the length of her dress would cover her footwork.

The music swelled, and she held her breath, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room judging her. When the moment came, Claude nudged her hip, sending her into the full turn. Her fingertips gently spun through his other hand, far above her head. At the end of the turn, he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her tight against his body once more.

He gave her a subtle smile, as though he were impressed. Meanwhile, she was breathless, feeling every inch of his body against hers.

She didn’t know a dance could be so sensual. She certainly didn’t know she could feel this level of attraction to someone she had despised for the past decade. Losing herself in the rest of the dance, she no longer had to remember the steps. Each time he guided her into the next section, her muscle memory snapped into place. All she had to do was keep her eyes on him, just as he had told her. She never noticed the small flakes of silver in the iris’s of his otherwise chocolate eyes.

As the dance came to a close, the music ceased, leaving the entire ballroom in silence. Claude and Dagmara remained focused on one another a moment longer.

Then he cleared his throat, breaking the intimacy. He kept her one hand in his as he addressed the crowd.

“Thank you all for joining us this evening to celebrate the start of our union. I am pleased to introduce Princess Magdalena Krol. She is a Guardian of Life, and we plan to work together for the betterment of both our kingdoms. May you enjoy the festivities!”

The music began again as the ballroom erupted in applause. Claude pulled Dagmara toward him, shifting his hand behind her back as led her to the front of the room.

“I must say, I’m impressed,” he said, his voice low so only she could hear.

“Honestly, so am I,” she replied. “I thought you would have two left feet.”

A soft laugh escaped his lips. “I’ve been dancing my whole life. You clearly underestimated me.”

“I can’t judge your dancing until you’ve performed the Azuremi Waltz. It’s a tradition at balls and weddings.”