Page 17

It was a toss-up as to which was more ornate and decorated—the massive ballroom or the guests. These were the nobles, the richest of the rich dressed in their most elegant finery, no doubt designed specifically for the ball. No off-the-rack purchases for this crowd!

The gentlemen wore breeches and jackets of the finest fabrics in a blaze of colors. Jewels sparkled in the ladies’ brilliant gowns. Hairstyles were intricate creations of curls and braids. The vivid fashion created a vertigo-inducing kaleidoscope as dancing couples whirled on the dance floor.

Floating sparkling chandeliers moved with the elegantly clad guests as if they were works of art deserving of lighted display. Even the musicians and the servers passing around hors d’oeuvres and alcoholic beverages were dressed in formal wear.

She supposed her gown, created by the palace designer, was as stylish as the rest, but insecurity made her feel like a little kid playing dress-up. Everything she’d learned in her comportment and etiquette classes flew out of her head, leaving her woefully unprepared.

The changes in the ballroom astounded her.

She’d peeked at it during a tour of the palace.

It had been grand before, but now? The domed ceiling had somehow been gilded just for the event.

New artwork had been hung, including larger-than-life portraits of the king and queen.

Stands of exotic flowers perfumed the perimeter and the entrances to alcoves where dancers could take a respite.

The monarchs appeared larger-than-life, as well, seated upon thrones on a dais overlooking the dancers. They were too far away to see their faces, but the king’s posture suggested…smugness?

She smoothed a nervous hand over the skirt of her gown.

She’d feel more like she belonged if her marriage were more solid.

So much remained unsettled. Jaryk seeking out Charday without telling her still felt like a betrayal.

And his recent words about telling her everything, and “owing” her sounded ominous.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“No,” she replied honestly, wishing they could have talked beforehand and cleared the air. Then I might be more equipped to deal with all of this.

Who am I kidding? I’ll never be equipped for this. The simple, straightforward public events she’d attended had given her a false sense of confidence. I’m never going to measure up. I’m a fraud. An interloper. No wonder the king objects to our marriage.

A lump clogged her throat. “I don’t fit in here.”

“Yes, you do. You’re with me, so you fit in.”

He’d meant to be reassuring, but he’d proven her point. Because of him, people were forced to accept her—or act like they did. However, she would not be accepted on her own merits. She was a carp out of water. You can put a pretty dress on a fish, but it’s still a fish.

She scanned the crowd for her sister, but she didn’t see her. After Jaryk had failed to return to the palace, the sisters had arranged to go to the ball together, but when she’d gotten word she was supposed to meet Jaryk, she’d sent her sister on ahead without her.

“The king will announce our marriage midway through the evening, right?” she verified. That’s what she’d been told in her classes.

“Yes. Until then, we meet and mingle. And dance—would you care to dance?”

“All right.” Now that the prince had arrived, everyone would take their cues from him. If the royals didn’t dance, no one else would either.

He took her hand and led her onto the gleaming stone floor. If she’d hoped they could dissolve and disappear into the crowd, it wasn’t meant to be. Dancers moved away, making them the center of attention. All eyes seemed to be on them as Jaryk led her into a dance.

Thank goodness for the classes—and for muscle memory. She managed not to flub up too noticeably, missing a step and stomping on his foot only once. “Sorry.”

“You’re doing fine. You’re a natural to pick it up so quickly.”

Natural disaster.

The scrutiny was palpable. Who is she? Why isn’t he with Alia? She couldn’t hear what people were saying over the music, but her neck prickled from the speculation, and her imagination filled in the blanks.

The musicians struck up another tune, and he segued into a different dance. “You’re an excellent dancer,” she said. Where are we? Are we still good? You said you loved me, and then you disappeared overnight. Is it really over with Charday?

“Years of practice,” he said. “But thank you.”

At the end of the set, he would have continued the next one, but she said, “Maybe we could take a breather?”

“Certainly.” He led her out of the throng to the perimeter.

A waiter strolled by with a tray of delicacies. “Your Highness?”

“Kismet?” Jaryk said.

“No, thank you.” Anxiety churned her stomach so much, she didn’t dare consume anything.

Jaryk accepted a couple of tiny tarts and something that looked like caviar on a cracker but probably wasn’t. “I missed dinner.” He downed the tidbits.

“I didn’t eat either,” she replied.

“Be sure you eat before you drink,” he warned.

“I will.” She would not risk getting drunk and making a spectacle of herself.

“There you are!” Her face slightly flushed, Karma burst out of the crowd in a swirl of magenta. “I was starting to think you had stood me up. Hello, Jaryk.”

“Hello, Karma. I’m the reason she’s late. I got delayed.”

Karma grabbed a spikey puff from a waiter’s tray and popped it into her mouth. Jaryk took one, but Kismet declined.

“This is the best party ever!” Karma gushed. “I hope I get a chance to thank the queen for the invite—if I don’t, please let her know how much I appreciate it.”

“I will,” Jaryk said.

“Have you been dancing much?” Kismet asked.

“Oh, my goddess! Yes! I can barely get a break. Being human, I’m a novelty. The men are lining up.” She grabbed a drink from a passing waiter and took a gulp.

Despite the emotional turmoil, she chuckled. “Kar—you were a novelty on Earth, too.”

“Don’t tell me—” Jaryk muttered.

“She’s right, I was,” Karma said.

He shook his head and looked at Kismet. “Will you be all right alone for a few minutes? I, uh, need to check on something.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll be right back, I promise.”

“I’ll stay with her,” Karma said.

“I don’t need a babysitter!” Sure, she’d felt a little uneasy, but she was a grown-ass woman. “I’ll be fine. Do what you need to do.”

He touched her shoulder and disappeared into the throng.

“I wonder what that’s all about,” Karma said.

“I guess I’ll find out when he returns.”

“Are you two okay, then? You made up?”

“We didn’t get to talk. He barely got back for the ball.”

“Did you find out why he was gone for so long?”

“A storm grounded his transport.”

“I knew it had to be something like that. The man loves you.”

Kismet looked at her in surprise. “You called him a pig-dog-polecat.”

“But he’s a devoted pig-dog-polecat,” she retorted and then narrowed her eyes.

“What is it? What are you looking at?”

“That woman keeps staring at us.”

“What woman?”

“The one about to pop out of her lavender dress.” She pointed surreptitiously with her pinky.

The deep V of the woman’s daring sleeveless gown exposed most of her ample breasts. Long blue hair was gathered over one shoulder, the better to display her bare skin. Flawless makeup enhanced regal features, but there was nothing majestic about her haughty, disapproving scowl.

Karma pointedly wrinkled her nose.

“Please, don’t do that,” Kismet said.

“Why not? She’s glowering at us .”

“One, we don’t know who she is. She could be someone important.” Probably everybody here was important. “Second, I’m married to the crown prince. We’re living among the royal family. We must practice a little decorum,” she chided.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll try to rein in my worst impulses.”

“You can start now.”

“I said I was sorry—”

“Hello, ladies.” Falkor materialized out of the crowd.

Her sister turned and treated him to a syrupy smile. “Good evening, Your Highness,” she said with such exaggerated deference, she clearly meant the opposite.

“Good evening,” Kismet said. “Who is the woman in lavender?” But the woman had disappeared. She shrugged. “Never mind. She’s gone.”

“Where’s Jaryk?” Falkor frowned.

“He had something to attend to,” she replied.

A handsome man in a dark-green suit approached and bowed to Falkor. “Your Highness.” Then he looked at Karma. “Would you share this dance with me?”

She glanced at Kismet.

“Go. I’m fine.”

She beamed a bright smile. “I’d love to! Thank you.” She held out her hand; the man took it and led her onto the floor. The slow, graceful glide of moves had them circling each other while gradually closing in until they joined hands and twirled.

“Damn, she’s good!” Kismet observed. Her sister picked up dance steps even faster than she did.

Falkor glowered.

Karma happened to glance their way. Her gaze locked on the prince. Then she tilted her head and flashed a come-hither smile at her dance partner.

Falkor growled.

Kismet smothered a grin. Well, well, well.

The dance ended. Karma’s partner escorted her back and then kissed her knuckles. “We will dance again later?”

“I would like that.” She treated him to a sunny smile.

Falkor radiated animosity, and the man scurried away.

“That was a rather showy display.” Falkor’s lip curled.

“I’m here to dance, not sit on the sidelines.” She glanced at Kismet. “No offense.”

“I’ve already danced with Jaryk,” she replied. What is taking him so long? Should she stay? Or go and try to find him? “You two should dance,” she urged.

“I think not—” Karma said.

“She would not be a good partner.” Falkor sniffed.

“I would be an excellent partner. I’m a fine dancer!”

The musicians started up a faster number with a throbbing 4/4 accented rhythm.

Her twin and Jaryk’s brother moved onto the floor, neither able to resist a challenge.

They clasped hands and launched into the dance moves.

Their feet and bodies moved in perfect sync while their faces maintained a scowl.

The way they glared at each other reminded her of the animosity of the glowering woman in lavender.

Who was she, and why had she seemed so disapproving? She doesn’t even know me.

She happened to catch her sister’s eye and pantomimed she was going to look for Jaryk. Her sister flashed an okay sign and resumed scowling.

Kismet hugged the perimeter, avoiding the dancers. She accepted a couple of tidbits from a server and a goblet of spirits. She had no intention of drinking. Holding the glass made her feel less conspicuous, like she was doing something. My emotional-support goblet.

In the alcoves, couples and small groups sat, chatted, and nibbled in a more private setting.

Traversing the length of the ballroom, she saw no sign of Jaryk. Upon reaching the front, she hesitated to walk by the king and queen. Should she say hello? Normally, one would wait to be addressed.

Her question about what to do was settled when the queen beckoned her. “Are you enjoying the ball?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Not exactly.

“The marriage announcement will be made in about two hours.” The queen smiled benevolently.

That long? Two more hours? “Wonderful.”

“Are you looking for Jaryk?” the king asked.

“Actually, I am.”

He gestured with a desultory wave. “I spotted him on that side of the room a few moments ago.”

“That’s where I was headed. Thank you, Your Majesty.” She’d complete the circle of the ballroom, and, if she didn’t find him, she’d wait where he’d left her. Eventually, he would have to surface.

She bowed and slipped past the dais. One-on-one, the queen was a lovely, warm person. The king? Not so much. Both rulers sitting on their throne at a royal ball? Intimidating as hell.

She peeked into alcoves as she passed. Where is he? She approached the last niche and looked inside. She couldn’t believe her eyes.