Page 18 of Pippa of Lauramore (The Eldentimber #1)

He clears his throat. “I don’t dance well.”

“You have no choice.” I grin at him. “You won the scavenger hunt—you take the first dance with the princess. Don’t worry. Others will join us.”

I pull him to the middle of the great hall. I’m sure he’s better than he says. He’s a prince after all—they are instructed in dancing. It’s a necessity.

We begin, and after the third or fourth time he’s stepped on my foot, I realize he wasn’t exaggerating at all.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s all right,” I assure him. “I believe this song is almost over.”

It doesn’t matter if Galinor can dance. I like to dance—but not everyone does. I’m feeling vaguely disappointed, but I’m being selfish. Dancing isn’t important.

The song ends, and he escorts me back to the side of the room. He looks glad to be safely away. Another song begins, and I accidentally turn into Lionel, who has come up behind me. He holds out his hand, and I have no choice but to take it .

Galinor grimaces, and I can tell he’s sorry.

Lionel leads me into the dancing. He’s good. Cold—but good. “You haven’t taken my advice, Philippa.”

His use of my full name makes my skin crawl.

I smile at him, trying to look sweet. “What advice was that?”

He wrinkles his sunburned brow and looks as if I should remember. Oh, right.

“Am I still acting like a…how did you put it?” I tap his meaty shoulder. “Oh, yes. An adventure-lusting tavern wench?”

He presses his lips together. “Can’t you behave like a princess? You’re disgraceful. They say you were found in the middle of the night with the archer.” He says archer like it’s a disgusting word.

I narrow my eyes. “If I’m so disgraceful, why don’t you pull out of the tournament and save yourself from certain humiliation?”

“If it weren't for that ring proving you’re still pure, I would think you were a common harlot.”

I’m wondering where the line is between dislike and loathing, but thankfully, the song ends before I can contemplate it further. I march away from him, not bothering to thank him for the dance.

I try to find Galinor in the crowd, but he seems to have vanished. If I stand here too long, who knows who will find me? I grit my teeth when there’s a tap on my shoulder. I turn, relieved to see Percival.

“Dance with me, little sister,” he says, smiling. I can tell from the apologetic look on his face that he saw what happened with Lionel .

I let him lead me. “I can’t stand him, Percival.”

“He’s changed,” he grudgingly admits.

“Why is he even here? He hates everything about me! He called me a harlot,” I add, just to make sure my brother is on the right side.

Percival bristles at the word. “His father wants this union.”

“Why?” I demand. “If the son thinks so ill of me, why would the father want the marriage?”

My brother sighs. “You are very beautiful, Pippa. In Vernow, they collect beautiful things. They are rich and powerful. They see you as a pretty accessory to adorn their castle.”

I have suspected as much, but hearing it aloud—and from my brother, no less—makes me feel squirmy. “Does Father know this?”

“He does, to a point. He sees Vernow’s riches, and he truly thinks you will be happy there. There is so much to do—theater, shopping, riding—he believes you’ll find plenty of things that will entertain you.”

“And he thinks I’ll be bored in Glendon?”

Percival nods slowly. “There is not much to be gained from a match with Glendon. Don’t despair, though. He was very impressed with your Galinor’s performance in the scavenger hunt.”

I feel vaguely melancholy when our dance ends. I spot Galinor across the room. He has found Archer, and the two of them speak with Lady Marigold.

Archer must like her. He’s been with her all evening.

I’m not alone for more than a few moments before there is another tap on my shoulder. My heart is weary, and I’m not sure I feel like another dance. I turn, thinking I’ll decline, then I see Irving’s handsome face.

“No, you don’t, Princess.” He pulls me to the center of the hall.

“No, I don’t, what?”

“You were going to turn me down. I saw it all over your face. I was about to get a cheerful decline.”

I laugh. “You’re right. Before I knew it was you, I was.”

His eyes flash with good humor. “I’m wearing you down, aren’t I? Soon you’ll turn away from your grand tournament and run away with me.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You will. We’ll sneak down to Triblue first, and then find a fast ship that will take us out to sea. We’ll explore tropical islands and eat coconuts for the rest of our days.”

I know he’s not serious, but for just a moment, I imagine it. It’s not bad.

“You weren’t supposed to take me seriously.” He gives me a wicked grin. “This punishment of yours must be weakening your resolve.”

“You have no idea.”

“Word has it you’ve selected your chosen. We shouldn’t tell them yet. They’ll just be jealous of me.”

I snort. It’s not a very ladylike sound, but something tells me Irving won’t care. “I’m choosing Galinor.”

He quirks his eyebrow at me. “Shocking. The man who brought a sheep.”

As we dance, I notice several young ladies look at us with unveiled envy. “You’ve made quite an impression on the women of our court.”

He grins. “All I care about is you, sweet princess. ”

I glance across the room and find Archer dancing with Lady Marigold. Irving follows my gaze. “She’s a kind girl, our Marigold. She’s been spending quite a bit of time with that Archer. Is he respectable?”

“Very.” My throat constricts. I watch the two of them and tell myself it’s not sadness I’m feeling, but rather, unbridled joy. It’s not working yet, but I’m hopeful. “Tell me about her.”

“Her family…died…in the Dragon Wars.”

I glance up at Irving. “You make that sound ominous.”

He shakes his head, more serious now than I’ve ever seen him. “It’s a horrible story. She’s quite alone in the world.”

“It was kind of your family to take her in.”

He gives me a funny look. “It’s never been talked about directly, but I’m rather positive she’s my half-sister, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh! You mean…your father…”

“That’s right.”

“How does your mother feel about all that?”

Irving grins. “All water under the bridge now. She loves Marigold. There are days I do believe she loves her more than me.”

“Bit of a troublemaker, are you?”

He winks. “You’re in good company, Princess.”

Our dance ends, and I’m truly disappointed. Who knows who will claim me next? At least Irving is fun.

Archer and Marigold part, and he walks her back to where they were standing earlier. I watch him, feeling a strange blend of wistfulness and nausea. It’s an unpleasant combination .

His eyes scan the hall, and then they settle on me—as if I were the one he was looking for all along. I swallow, feeling oddly nervous.

He excuses himself from Marigold and strides to me. “How are you?”

“Fine,” I say, bobbing on my toes.

He glances around and then looks back at me. “Do you think I’m allowed to dance with you?”

I hold my hand out in answer. I don’t know if we’re allowed to dance, but I do know we had better hurry and do it before someone comes to stop us. Once we’re on the floor, Father won’t make a scene.

Archer’s hand is warm on my waist, and it reminds me of our night ride.

He leads me across the hall, and I search for something to say.

I should keep the conversation light, but I can only think of our shared moment in the cottage.

We haven’t discussed it. I’m not sure he even remembers.

He seemed lucid enough, but with a fever, it’s hard to tell.

“Did you find yourself in any trouble?” I ask, relieved to find a safe topic.

Archer laughs. “No. King Ewan thanked me for keeping you safe.”

Silence settles between us like a thick blanket. It’s almost suffocating. I’ve never felt this way around Archer.

My eyes wander, and I smile when I glance at Galinor and see that he has rescued Lady Marigold from loneliness. He is kind.

“Thank you, by the way,” I say finally, realizing I haven’t acknowledged his help with the scavenger hunt. I add, my voice a whisper in the loud hall, “How did you know it was a sheep? ”

“Just a hunch.”

“I thought I was going to die on the spot when Galinor came dragging it into the arena.”

Archer smiles, creating little creases around his eyes.

“Your eyes change depending on what you wear,” I say. Although I was thinking it, I’m not sure why I said it out loud.

He gives me a funny look. “What do you mean they change?”

“Sometimes they’re green. Sometimes they’re blue. Sometimes they’re a little of both.”

“What are they tonight?” he asks, and his voice is soft.

“A little bit of both.”

He watches me so intently my breath catches in my throat. “Your eyes are always the same. The exact color of the sky immediately after sunrise—bright, light blue.”

I look away, unable to bear how intimate our conversation has become. When I do, I meet Rigel’s gaze. He’s scrutinizing us, and for a terror-filled second, I believe he can see right into my heart. He narrows his eyes and turns away.