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Chapter 31 ~ Never Let Me Go

Dàibhid

Liam won the bet. I hardly noticed, too caught up in the memory of being around Rígan. The feel of her in my arms, the sound of her laughter. The way the mere sight of her had quelled my anxieties around the mission to infiltrate Bailanín, which could have been underway at that very minute.

Everything in me craved her, and I wanted more than anything to get back to her.

I edged my way toward the other side of the glade, toward her, thrumming with anticipation.

“Your Eminence.”

I swiveled, nose-to-nose with Priestess Calla. A young woman stood beside her, chestnut hair plaited meticulously back from her tawny cheeks. I kept my frustration in check, refusing to let them see it.

“Priestess Calla.”

“This is my niece, Talia,” she said as Talia curtsied.

I smiled at Talia. “A pleasure to meet you.”

She blushed furiously.

“It’s customary for visiting royalty to dance with members of the Priestess’s family,” Calla said. Though she kept her features neutral, polite, I wondered if there was a schemer below the surface. My father told me stories about how the Priestesses of the Grove were known to try and set up family members with the “descendants of the gods.” My smile wavered.

“Well then,” I said after a beat too long. “We shouldn’t scorn such a custom, should we?” I offered an arm to Talia, who almost tripped in her haste to latch on to me. I tried to keep my sharp inhale quiet. For such a frail-looking person, she had a death grip on her.

Talia avoided looking directly at me. “We’re honored you’re here, Your Eminence.”

“I’m glad I could be here.” I swept her into the music, ignoring the fact that I had shown up to the Grove earlier than expected because Exiles had run me out of my home.

Talia moved with practiced grace. Calla watched from the sidelines, as though she’d trained Talia for this moment. Maybe she had. But what Talia had in skill she lacked in confidence, staring straight at my chest, her lips moving like she was counting the beats.

“It’s alright,” I said, hoping to ease her discomfort. “I won’t bite.”

“Sorry, Your Eminence.”

“That’s not—” I sighed. She’d gone back to counting.

My mind drifted with the song, going along with the steps but not paying attention to them. I imagined my hand holding a waist that wasn’t bony, that was soft despite the sharpness the body held. My other hand in one that gripped more surely. Staring into eyes that liked to challenge me.

Shit. I was staring at Rígan. She was caught up in a conversation with Liam, entertained by his tipsiness. The way she lit up at something he said sent my pulse into a frenzy.

She was beautiful.

During the second song with Talia—I hadn’t known how to extricate myself without being impolite—Rígan finally looked over. She frowned at whatever she saw before returning to her conversation with Liam. Barely another handful of measures passed before she stormed toward us.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Rígan said. “But His Eminence is needed.”

Talia pulled herself away from me so quickly we both stumbled. “Of course. It was an honor, Your Eminence.”

“And it was—” But she was off, heading for a group of women around our age eagerly awaiting her arrival.

“You looked like you could use some rescuing,” Rígan said. She walked off the dance floor and over to a tree. I followed.

“Was it that obvious?”

“I doubt most would have noticed. Just—” She cut herself off, but before I could question, she finished the thought. “Just the people who know you.”

“So the others are going to make fun of me, then?”

I expected her to laugh, maybe lean into me like she’d done earlier, but all I got was a sly smile. I’d come to realize only half of them were genuine, but I didn’t know which this one was.

“Liam, in his alcohol-induced state, will likely have a few things to say about how stiff you were,” she said.

“That sounds about right. Hey, is everything alright? You’re more subdued than you were earlier.”

“Just tired. The dancing is wearing me out.”

The band started another song, a partner dance, and despite the hour—the forest had turned from a golden haze in the setting sun to a twinkling fairyland—people still flocked to the dance floor.

“Lou,” Thomas said a half dozen paces from us. “Care for a dance?”

Lou gave a dramatic bow that made Thomas smile. “It would be my honor.”

Watching the two of them begin the movements filled me with a renewed sense of longing. I shoved my hands into my pockets to avoid offering one to Rígan.

She sighed. “You’re dying to go out there, aren’t you?”

“I do enjoy a good dance.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“It needs a partner, though.”

“I’m sure you could pull it off on your own.”

“Wouldn’t that be a sight?”

Fabric fluttered around her feet. She was tapping out the rhythm to the song.

I pulled my hands from my pockets. “One more dance? If you’re not too tired.”

Rígan stared at my outstretched hand, not moving. Perhaps she really was exhausted. Still, I hoped she had one more dance in her.

“I probably shouldn’t.”

My hand fell, and I tried not to look disappointed. “No worries.”

She bit her lip, seemingly warring with herself. “Just one.”

“Just one,” I promised. This time, she took my hand.

The imaginings I’d had while dancing with Talia manifested as Rígan and I stepped into the music and I placed one hand on her waist and the other in hers, calloused from training. Except her eyes didn’t meet mine. They didn’t even meet my chest like Talia’s had. They were fixed over my shoulder, her neck rigid.

I leaned in close, my mouth by her ear. “Relax.”

She deflated infinitesimally, her thumb sweeping the back of my hand as she leaned into my touch. She shook her head enough that I pulled back to look at her.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” Her cheeks turned pink.

“Are you feeling awkward?” I teased.

“Of course not.”

I don’t know why I kept going. “I mean the signs are there. The flush, the avoidance of eye contact.”

She stared me down. “Better?”

I smirked. “Much.”

Her flush deepened until her freckles practically blended in, her whole countenance a fiery red. It crept down her throat to the neckline of her gown. A small crease appeared between her brows as she contemplated whatever she saw in me. I held my breath, afraid that if I breathed wrong, I’d lose her.

Still, the happiness she’d had earlier wasn’t there, and I didn’t think it was because she was tired. If I thought about it, the shift could have happened when I’d left her for the drinking contest.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” I caught myself absentmindedly rubbing her spine. I returned my hand to the proper spot.

“I’m sure.”

I hesitated. “Did I upset you earlier?”

“Dàibhid . . .” She tilted her face to me, intensity burning in her gaze. Her grip tightened like she never wanted to let me go.

She took a small step closer like she never wanted me to let go of her, either.

But the song ended, and she stepped out of my grasp entirely.

“You didn’t upset me. You did nothing wrong.” She gathered her dress in her hands. “I should go. Thank you for the dances.”

“Rígan,” I started, but she left me standing there, alone, my arm outstretched toward her.