Page 34

Morgana

“ H ow bad is it?” I ask Tira under my breath as we enter the ballroom, and hundreds of eyes turn toward us.

I hear a flurry of scandalized gasps and even some tutting as we walk by, but I keep my head high, acting as if I’m totally comfortable in this obscene outfit. By some miracle, I manage to keep my face from going bright red.

“Some of them are clutching their pearls,” Tira mutters, scanning the room. “But honestly, I think a lot of them are kind of impressed.”

I’m so surprised by her words I turn my head to look at the crowd, remembering just in time to make my gaze suitably bold.

I stare out at them, unapologetic, and find that Tira’s right.

Just like the noblewomen at the wreathing, some of the fae are raising their eyebrows at each other or frowning disapprovingly.

Yet it looks like there’s admiration in some of the faces too, and I catch one or two fae outright gaping at me in a way I suspect isn’t all bad.

I smile, nodding at them in greeting as we move through the center of the ballroom. Huge chandeliers glitter with the light of incendi lamps, making the ceiling look like someone’s flung diamonds across it. Tall statues line the room too, each depicting a king and queen of fae courts past.

Many of the women from the wreathing are peeling off now to join their friends and family. Tira and I move down the left side of the room, avoiding the central dance floor where several couples, including Phaia and Helia, are already dancing.

Stratton’s over by a fountain that seems to be dispensing more of the sparkling wine they had at the wreathing. Of course he’s surrounded by fawning women, who at this moment are giggling in unison at some joke he’s told. I spot Damia and Eryx not far from him, drinking in the corner.

“Look, there’s Alastor,” Tira says. I follow her gaze to the blonde fae helping himself to canapés.

“Good evening, Alastor,” she says, dragging me toward him.

“Good evening. You look lovely, Miss Holms,” he says, bowing to her. Then he turns to me, and I brace myself for all kinds of blunt comments about my dress.

“You do know how to cause a stir, don’t you?” is all he says, barely glancing at my outfit before turning his attention back to the food in his hand.

I roll my eyes. “I’m not always given the option of being subtle.”

“Well, you’ve certainly got Lady Naia pissed. It’s her ball, and no one’s looked at her since you came in,” he says.

I glance over my shoulder and feel a grin spread across my face, because this time it’s obvious the blonde noblewoman is furious, her cold gaze piercing me from across the ballroom. Then her eyes widen at something behind me, and I turn back around to find Leon standing there.

Tira joked about me turning him on in this dress, but I’m the one whose mouth goes dry at the sight of him.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen him wearing anything except his soldier’s gear, which he already looks stupidly handsome in.

But now I take in the white sleeves of his shirt, just tight enough to show off the large muscles underneath and to emphasize his broad shoulders.

It’s open at the top, exposing a sliver of sculpted chest. Over it, he’s wearing a black vest delicately embroidered with gold thread and fastened with shining gold buttons.

It’s the contrast that’s so intriguing, his powerful body, always ready for action, wrapped up in such elegance. I find I like that it’s still blindingly clear a wild animal lies beneath the surface, no matter how much pretty, stylish clothing he wears.

And nowhere is that wildness in him more obvious than in his eyes. I meet them now, their gray depths darker than usual.

“Princess Morgana,” he says, his voice low as he bows.

I bob a shallow curtsey. It’s all I can manage in this dress.

“Prince Leonidas.” I raise my eyebrow at him a little, wondering what, now I’m here, he has to say to me.

For a moment, I don’t think he knows himself, because a beat passes with neither of us speaking. Then he clears his throat and gestures to the twirling couples behind me.

“Dance with me,” he says simply.

I turn to watch the gracefully spinning figures and feel a touch of nervousness.

“I’m not very good,” I say. I’ve danced a little in the past with the Otscold children, but none of us took it seriously, and it’s not like any of us had ever been taught the proper steps.

“That doesn’t matter. I’ll lead you,” he says. Without allowing me another chance to argue, he takes hold of my hand and draws me to the dance floor. At the edge, he spins me toward him and encloses me in his arms. I shut my eyes for a second, enjoying their solid warmth.

He was right about leading. I don’t feel as unsure now he’s supporting me. It’s easy to trust that he’ll guide me through it. When we start moving, I manage not to overthink it and allow my feet to step whichever way feels right until we’re slowly turning to the music together.

“I didn’t know if you’d come,” he says eventually.

“It was really for Tira,” I say. “She needed something to distract her. Plus, it was clear there was an expectation for me to attend.” I don’t mention Lady Naia by name, or the fact that she tried everything she could to sabotage me.

I don’t want to encourage Leon to spend any time thinking about her, especially not when I’m in his arms.

He offers me a wry smile. “So you didn’t come for my benefit, even though I’m the one who invited you?”

“No,” I say casually, enjoying making him squirm. “However, if I’d known you wanted to dance with me…” I trail off playfully as he tightens his hold on my hip, turning me in time to the music.

“After I saw you, I had to find an excuse to touch you. What in the gods are you wearing?” His eyes rake over my body, and he sounds a little strangled. A blush blooms across my cheeks as I wonder how to take his words.

“Don’t you like it?” I ask.

“Like it?” He leans forward, placing his mouth by my ear. “You look utterly, ruinously beautiful. If I didn’t know better, I’d think a goddess had escaped from the Eternal Realm to come slum it with us mortals. It’s all I can do not to rip that dress off you and have my way with you right here.”

A ripple of desire shudders through me at his words, coursing down my body and settling between my legs.

“I think your court might have something to say about that,” I comment, trying to sound amused and in control.

“Who cares?” he says, drawing back but keeping his voice low. “Right now, half of them are desperately wishing they could be as beautiful as you, and the other half are fantasizing about fucking you.”

I lick my lips, only turned on more by his coarse language. That’s one of the irresistible things about him. Even when he seems at his most untouchably royal, there are still hints of that roughness underneath, peeking out when he says something that would scandalize any proper lady.

“They are, are they?” I reply, a little breathless. A rogue part of me wants to hear more, even if I know it can’t go anywhere.

“Yes. But there’s only one person who gets to fuck you,” he says, his voice almost a whisper and his eyes practically black. “Understood?”

“You don’t get to decide that,” I push back.

“Oh, I do,” he says with a hungry grin. “I ruined everyone else for you, Ana. I showed you what true pleasure could be, and now you’ll settle for nothing less.”

I want to snap back with a sharp retort…but I can’t. Because maybe he’s right. How many nights have I woken from a dream in which our bodies were entwined, with me moaning his name? Too many. It’s never anyone else in those fantasies, only ever Leon possessing me until I’m totally undone.

And if I can’t escape the hold he has over me, where does that leave me? Taken apart by a prince who’s promised to another. The fear of it—of the pain—snaps me out of the haze of desire, and I withdraw from Leon’s arms.

“I’m tired of dancing,” I say stiffly and walk away to find Tira. What I’m really tired of is wanting Leon and not knowing if that wanting will destroy me. I can’t stand to spend any longer playing this game with no way to know how deadly it will turn out to be.

The music stops abruptly when I’m just a few feet from the dance floor, and I look up at the sound of someone clapping their hands to get the guests’ attention.

“My dear lords and ladies,” Lady Naia stands beside the band, surveying the crowd. Her blue eyes alight on me for a second before moving on. “What would a ball be without some entertainment? It’s time for the shadow waltz.”

A collective wave of excitement runs through the crowd as everyone rushes onto the dance floor. In the clamor, I frantically search for Tira and see her in the back of the crowd with Alastor. I dart toward them.

“What’s happening?” I ask Alastor.

“I was just explaining to Miss Holms here,” he says.

“It’s very fae,” Tira says with a roll of her eyes.

“The aim of the game is to capture someone else’s shadow and dance with it in the waltz,” he says, speaking quickly as he weaves in between the nobles. “The most important thing to remember is that you mustn’t be left without a shadow partner by the time the waltz is over.”

I open my mouth, about to ask exactly how one “catches” a shadow, when the band starts playing again.

The music is different this time. Eerily lively, with the unmistakable fizz of magic about it.

I watch in awe as Tira and Alastor’s shadows detach from their feet and rise up off the floor, becoming dark, hazy figures standing entirely separate from them.

I jump when a me-shaped shadow appears at my own elbow.

There’s something creepy about the featureless beings, hundreds of them materializing around us as every guest doubles.