Page 21

Roslyn

Two hours later, the bonfire is in full swing.

Drinks flowing, music playing, burning torches and strings of lights casting the contestants in a warm golden glow. In the middle of it all, a huge fire crackles. Piled high with driftwood, it keeps the festive atmosphere just a little dark and dangerous with the shadows it throws on all the dancing bodies.

Juni and I stand at one side of it, watching the crowd and speaking in low voices, keeping an eye out for the hovers that dart back and forth over everyone, capturing it all.

“They haven’t lined a date up for you and Zandrel yet?” Juni asks, sounding way more offended on my behalf than I’d ever dream to be. “What do these idiots think they’re doing?”

I stifle a laugh. “I’m sure they will.”

“They better,” she says darkly. “This is the most salacious storyline they’ve had on their hands in years, and they better not fuck it up.”

“Would that derail your plans?” I tease. “I’m not a very hot commodity or good ally if I can’t get any camera time.”

Juni preens haughtily. “I’ll have you know I’m doing just fine on my own, thank you very much. And I’m about to be doing even better.”

“Oh, really?” I ask, eyes shifting over the crowd, looking for her Jurvian and Sendahlan.

“Really. Because our triad is about to become a quad.”

My gaze cuts back to her. “With who?”

“Nelle. I think you might have, uh, met her on the ride in.”

“ Ansalla’s friend ?”

“ Former friend,” Juni emphasizes. “They didn’t last past the welcome dinner when they both went after the same guy. And she’s cool. Much less… well, much less like Ansalla.”

I laugh and shake my head. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Please do. I promise you’ll like her once you get to know her.”

We both look out over the crowd, and it only takes a few seconds to spot the Vas-Greshiran who’d been thick as thieves with Ansalla that first day on the transport. She’s in the middle of the crowd of dancers with Serril, arms wound around his neck and body pressed close as they sway in time with the music.

When I glance back to Juni, she’s got an expression on her face I might almost call dreamy. Eyes bright as she watches them, lips curled into an affectionate smile.

“And what do Tev and Serril think of this development?” I ask.

“Well, Serril and Nelle had a bit of a thing going on before he hooked up with me and Tev, so he’s obviously on board with it.”

“And Tev?”

Her smile turns sharper, wicked, much more like the Juni I know. “I think Tev’s afraid to admit how much he wants it. He’s never really explored that side of himself, you know? Always been a one-partner kind of guy. But things have gone so well with Serril, and I see the way he looks at Nelle…”

Both our gazes drift back to the dancefloor, just in time to watch Serril—still intertwined with Nelle in the midst of all those swaying bodies—beckon to someone standing just to the side of the crowd. Tev materializes a moment later, only to be engulfed in two sets of arms that pull him into a dance.

Juni laughs, the sound light and bright and filled with joy.

“Go,” I say.

Tev, Serril, and Nelle all spot her in the crowd at just about the same time. Their own grins hold a clear invitation to join them, and I nudge her gently with my shoulder.

She gives me a peck on the cheek before she dashes off. “And you should go find your Revexoran. I’m sure he’s lonely without you.”

I let out another soft laugh as she goes, cheeks aching with my smile as I watch her being embraced by her partners. For the benefit of the cameras or not, the four of them seem pretty damn happy together as they dance in the flickering light of the fire and the moonlight shining down from above.

And, maybe because their joy is infectious, or maybe because I’m aching for a little companionship, too, I search the crowd for my own supposed partner.

As I do, I’m a little surprised by the anticipatory heat that rises in my chest, the undeniable eagerness to seek him out, though Juni and I were only talking for a few minutes.

Even in the midst of all this company, the only person I want to talk to right now is Zandrel.

Zandrel, who’s fierce and lethal and belongs to the most prestigious fighting force in the universe.

Zandrel, who was just a damn kid with no parents and no home and nowhere else to go when he was snapped up by that fucking vulture of a recruiter.

Zandrel, who’s arrogant and a pain in the ass, but who’s helping me find Savvie and might just be my one best chance to see her again.

Zandrel, who’s a whole lot more handsome than I wanted to let myself admit. Who—with each of our fake kisses—has sparked a low burning heat in my belly. One I should know better than to indulge.

Zandrel, whose words from earlier have lodged themselves firmly in the back of my mind, playing on a repeating loop.

I would have had my eye on you, regardless.

I don’t see him right away, and feel a little foolish at my eagerness, at letting those words mean anything more than they should.

He was teasing. Loosening things up between us after how stiff and awkward we’ve been. He was being friendly. That’s it.

Still…

The rest of our conversation keeps playing through my mind, too. The hollow loss in his voice. The way I can’t help but think he doesn’t share things like that easily or often.

My eyes keep searching, and despite my best efforts, a bubble of anticipation expands in my chest.

Maybe when I find him, I can convince him to dance with me. For the cameras, of course. Not because I’m suddenly curious to know what he’d be like on a dance floor, if he’d take the lead and hold me close, murmur little observations and teasing snark about the other contestants while he did. Not because I’d like to see if I can help him relax a little, find a reason to make him smile.

But that bubble immediately pops when I spot him.

He’s standing on the far edge of the dancing crowd, and he’s not alone.

A beautiful, statuesque Nexxan female stands with him, leaning in closer than she should be, too close, too familiar.

Ansalla.

A sick ache kicks up in the bottom of my gut—a mix of dread and indignation and a hot, inexplicable spark of possessiveness.

I swallow all that bile back.

There’s no reason for it. She’s not doing anything wrong. They’re only talking, enjoying the evening, and just because I might think the look in her eyes is a little too hungry for my liking doesn’t mean I need to fly off the handle.

But then she touches him.

A brush of long, elegant fingers over his bicep, squeezing lightly, affectionately.

Oh, hell no.

There’s nothing inexplicable about the possessiveness this time, nothing subtle. There’s nothing but a flare of irate protest so strong I can barely keep my feet planted where they are.

How dare she?

How dare she put her hands on my…

Okay, maybe I don’t know how exactly to finish that sentence, but it still doesn’t mean she should be touching him.

Even if this is all fake, she doesn’t know that.

The whir of a hover just over my shoulder snaps my mind back to the present.

The show. The other contestants. The fact that none of this is real life and I’m not just some woman at some party watching my boyfriend be hit on.

It only takes a few more seconds for the rest of it to click into place.

Of course.

Our big day, our kick in the ass back into the spotlight. Whether or not Ansalla is a willing participant in stirring up drama, I don’t know, but I’d bet my ass some producer put her up to it.

That suspicion is only confirmed when I glance over at Sella.

She nods meaningfully toward Zan and Ansalla, eyes sparkling with encouragement.

It’s not hard to understand what she wants me to do.

I must be getting better at understanding all the mechanics of this game and putting myself into the mind of a producer, because it plays out like a perfect little tableau in my mind. The lights, the cameras, the clear path from me to Zan and a moment of dramatic tension that will air for billions of viewers.

I see it all—the pettiness of it, how contrived it all is.

And the opportunity it presents.

When I meet Sella’s gaze again, she’s grinning, like she can see the choice I’ve made even before I’m fully aware I’ve made it.

Well… fuck. I hope Zan’s up for this.

With a deep, steadying breath, I stalk across the sand to my fake boyfriend and the beautiful Nexxan putting the moves on him.