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Lucian Regis approaching me was not normal.

I stared in silence, completely baffled by his presence.

A small, haughty smirk at the corner of his lips, amusement in the gray of his eyes, he simply placed his arm around my waist and pulled me close.

“You’ll excuse me,” he said to Castor, giving no other justification.

Then, he grasped my hand, and I was twirled out of my cousin’s awkward grip, and landed against his chest, my back flush against his. Then, he was waltzing us around the floor with all the grace and precision of a professional, wordlessly, smoothly.

I’d seen him dance with his mother and with Kore, who was even now watching us from one side of the room, looking as though she was ready to stab me. Not that I could blame her. Lucian never danced with anyone else: only his mother and her. Eleven years of attending these parties had made that fact obvious to me.

But we were waltzing.

I never could have guessed that it would be so easy, so natural, seamless.

I loved the orchestra now. What was I thinking, cursing the poor, talented conductor? I ought to send him flowers.

The music was over far too soon.

“What are you doing?” I managed to whisper.

Lucian was unapologetic, as always. “Saving you. That was painful to watch. How are your feet?”

I was undeterred. “I thought we were going to pretend everything was normal,” I gritted between my teeth.

“Isn’t it?” he tilted his head.

His hand returned to my waist as we moved slower now, in rhythm with the next song.

“I spent six months in the Guard—with your cousin, to boot. Everyone knows as much. It's only natural that we would have gotten acquainted."

He said it like it was so simple. One glance behind my shoulder, and the many, many shocked eyes I spotted told another story. "You never dance with anyone except your mother and your girlfriend," I hissed.

"Good to hear you've been watching me, Valesco."He chuckles, then tilts his head. "Wait, my girlfriend?"

The moment comprehension hit—there was only one woman he danced with other than Cassiopea, after all—he stopped dancing and stared at me, horrified.“You thought we were together. Me and Kore. Kore and I.”

"Aren't you?" I made myself shrug indifferently. “You’re always with her at these parties, hovering protectively whenever someone so much as looks at her, let alone dare ask her for a waltz. I mean, it’s rather endearing how protective?—”

He interrupted me with, “I’m going to throw up."

Indeed, he looked a little green.

I smiled without even meaning to. “I take it she’s not your girlfriend, partner, betrothed…”

"Please stop talking," he begged. “Kore’s my cousin!”

Oh. I never would have guessed. They truly looked nothing alike. Then again, he didn't really look like his mother either. His only relatives with his distinctive appearance were Cassius and his brother Damian.

The notion seemed so disdainful to him, I couldn't help needling him a little. He certainly did the same to me whenever he could.

“Well, that never stopped European royals before.” I smirked. “If you don’t want people to talk, dance with someone else from time to time.”

Shaking his head, he resumed the dance. Curious onlookers seemed to hang on to our every word, reading our lips. I wouldn't have been surprised if they'd cast some spells to hear what we were saying too.

This was very far from the status quo. It was a thousand miles away from what anyone would have expected. Lucian Regis and Kleos Valesco? The sole fact that we exchanged pleasantries and seemed on good terms in public would have wasted a fair amount of ink if the vale papers had caught wind of it. Dancing at one of the galas was positively scandalous.And if they knew I'd stayed at the manor all week? We would have caused heart attacks.

I cleared my throat. "I have an interview Tuesday. Gideon and I thought we should tell the world to carry salt, to be careful."