Page 107 of Where Darkness Falls

“Maeva, I insist,” he replies, his tone suggesting there’s no room for argument. “This is a request of the king, Rosey. It would be rude to deny his command.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine,” I groan. “Just one dance.”

Emyr grins, definitely a feature he inherited from his father. “That’s my girl,” Emyr coos.

Heat crawls up my neck as a blush overwhelms me.

Virgil clears his throat then, regaining Emyr’s attention. “You’re dismissed for now, Virgil. I’ll signal to you if you’re needed,” Emyr says.

Virgil tenses at the command, but nods nonetheless. “I’ll be at the drink table should you need me,” he growls, stalking away.

Emyr pulls me in close to his body, his large palm resting on my waist. The other clasps my free hand firmly. The next haunting melody begins, but this one sounds different from the ones previously. Something about it reminds me of life and death, growth and decay, beginnings and endings. It might be the most beautiful ballad I’ve ever heard, as Emyr twirls me around the dance floor.

I can’t bring myself to look at him for fear of embarrassing myself by ogling him. So instead, I glance around the garden, watching the guests. I notice that several have stopped and are observing Emyr as he spins us in time to the music. Some are even whispering amongst themselves, pointing in our direction. Unable to handle feeling further like a specimen, I look at Emyr only to find that he’s no longer smiling. I assume that’s from a certain someone’s gaze lingering on us. I’ve been aware of Tiernan’s watchful eye from the moment that I entered this evening, but I wasn’t expecting everyone else to be curious as well.

Interrupting my assessments, he whispers, “You’re a divine dancer.”

“As are you, my prince,” I retort.

Emyr winces, but spins me away from him before catching me once more on the retrieval spin. We continue to dance along with the beat in silence. Emyr’s grip tightens around me slightly, the muscles of his jaw working overtime as he ponders something.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers after a few moments.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I inquire.

“It was a last-minute decision,” he replies.

“No, I mean why didn’t you tell me you’re the prince, Emyr,” I say. “Also, why has no one addressed you as such except for tonight?”

Emyr’s throat bobs, and for some reason, I find it mesmerizing. “It’s complicated,” he whispers, his amber eyes boring into mine as if trying to relay everything he wants to say through one look. Unfortunately, when I don’t know the history, it’s hard to understand.

“Lucky for you, I’m quite well-versed in understanding complicated things,” I reply.

I catch the slightest movement of his chest as if he’s trying to stop a laugh from escaping.

“Quite lucky, indeed,” he says.

“Yes, my prince,” I retort. “Now, are you going to tell me, or am I just supposed to read your mind?”

Emyr sighs, rolling his eyes. “My father doesn’t like anyone knowing I am the prince,” he says. “At first, I believed it was for my protection. As time went on, and I was only referred to by my rank amongst the soldiers, I realized it’s because he hates the idea that I could challenge his power.”

“Have you ever tried to challenge him for his throne?” I ask.

“No. I’ve been loyal to a fault. Maeva, I never questioned that decision even though I hated no longer being known as his son,” he replies. “As I grew older, I was taught to see it as a blessing. All the former nobility of Malvoria were slaughtered after he invaded, and the nobility’s replacements were none the wiser. Who would desire to be known as the son of the Demon King of Zulgalros with his dark abilities? I never wanted to use my title again if it meant I never had to be attached to him beyond a working relationship.”

“So, why claim the title now?” I ask, trying to put all the pieces together. “Why risk putting yourself through that kind of scrutiny?”

The air thickens, and Emyr stops swaying us as his molten eyes roam over the planes of my face with such intensity… Perhaps even longing. “For you,” he whispers.

I blink rapidly, feeling lightheaded. “Me?” I respond.

He nods slightly, swaying us once more. “This is retribution for what he did to you,” he replies. “Under my loyalty oath, I can’t physically harm him or those closest to him, but I can make him squirm.”

I scoff. “You didn’t have to do th?—”

“I’d do it a thousand times over to see him rattled,” he interrupts. “Likewise, if you haven’t noticed, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Rosey.”

His deep, honeyed voice causes a shiver to roam over my spine.