Page 2 of Song of the Heart Scale (The Dragon’s Ballad #3)
“Nonsense! Confidence, Maeve! It's all about confidence!” I shouted over the lively music, dramatically spinning her outward and then quickly drawing her back in. She yelped but laughed, finally starting to relax.
Around us, the household staff cheered and clapped, forming small circles of their own dances or huddling in animated conversations over mugs brimming with ale and wine. The flickering lanterns created playful shadows that danced alongside us, enhancing the carefree magic of the night.
“My lady!” shouted Alaric, one of the younger, shirtless guards, approaching with a wide grin. “I must confess, I've never attended such a peculiar festivity.”
“You mean scandalous, don't you?” I winked playfully. “Or perhaps invigoratingly inappropriate?”
Alaric guffawed and sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. “All of the above, my lady. And yet, I've never had this much fun.”
“See, Maeve? We're breaking down social barriers here,” I said with exaggerated grandeur. “We should do this more often.”
“Absolutely not,” Maeve weakly insisted, though her bright smile betrayed her enjoyment. “This is already far beyond anything remotely acceptable.”
“Acceptable is overrated,” I declared cheerfully, grabbing another goblet of wine from a nearby table.
I took a generous sip, savoring the rich, fruity flavor that spread warmth down my chest. It was at that exact moment I remembered my unfortunate history with alcohol.
Two Pina Coladas could knock me flat on my ass. Who knew what medieval wine would do?
Just then, a roar of laughter drew my attention. At a large table near the musicians, a group of staff members and guards had started some sort of drinking game. Curious, I tugged Maeve along and approached the circle. “What's the game, folks?”
One of the maids, a robust woman named Berta, grinned mischievously. “It's called Dragon's Breath, my lady. You must hold your breath, drink your entire mug, then roar as fiercely as possible. The weakest roar takes a penalty drink.”
I glanced at Maeve with sparkling eyes. “What do you say, Maeve? Want to see who can roar louder?”
Maeve shook her head vigorously, her eyes wide. “My lady, you can't be serious—”
“Come now, Maeve,” Berta coaxed cheerfully. “Even quiet kittens can roar like dragons with enough wine!”
Laughing, I gently pushed Maeve forward. “Give it a go. For me? Consider it your gift to the bride-to-be.”
Reluctantly, Maeve accepted a mug, her cheeks blazing as she inhaled deeply and gulped down the drink. Her eyes widened comically at the taste and she coughed before attempting a weak, tentative roar that sounded more like an anxious mewl.
The group burst into friendly laughter, and Maeve covered her face in embarrassment. I applauded anyway. “Bravo, Maeve! A ferocious effort!”
Determined to show her how it was done and forgetting entirely about my low alcohol tolerance, I grabbed my mug, took a deep breath, and chugged it.
The strong liquid burned my throat and sent liquid heat racing through my veins.
Almost immediately, the world tilted. I raised my head high, took another breath, and released a mighty, theatrical roar that echoed impressively through the garden—or at least, I hoped it did.
A deafening cheer erupted around us, and Maeve, despite herself, laughed out loud, clapping her hands. “You truly are something else, my lady.”
“Why thank you,” I said smugly, offering an exaggerated curtsy that nearly sent me toppling forward.“I’ve had years of vocal training for just such an occasion.”
“Truly?” Maeve asked earnestly, looking slightly puzzled.
“Absolutely not!” I laughed, wobbling slightly as I steadied myself against her shoulder. “But faking it convincingly is another essential life skill.”
Maeve shook her head, smiling warmly but gripping my arm to keep me steady. “I'm not sure what we're going to do with you, my lady.”
“Keep me entertained, obviously.” I playfully nudged her. “Speaking of entertainment, it's your turn again!”
Before Maeve could protest, another mug was pushed into her hands and the staff began chanting her name. She gave me one last pleading glance, which I met with an encouraging nod.
“For tonight, Maeve, just embrace the chaos,” I said, my words slurring. “Tomorrow we'll return to propriety. But tonight—tonight is ours.”
Maeve took a deep breath and determination settled over her features. She quickly drank the contents of the mug, slammed it down onto the table, and let out a surprisingly impressive roar that drew cheers and applause from everyone around us.
“That's my Maeve!” I yelled, laughing and swaying precariously as the garden slowly spun around me.
She turned to me, her eyes shining with delight and disbelief at her own audacity. “My lady, I can't believe I did that!”
“Believe it.” I grinned and flung an arm around her shoulders. “Because this is just the beginning.”
With laughter ringing around us, music filling the air, and a night sky that twinkled with countless stars, I knew this would be a night none of us would ever forget. Because if recent events were any indication, my future was mystifyingly uncertain.
The warmth of the wine quickly spread, loosening my limbs and clouding my thoughts just enough to make everything seem funnier than usual. Maeve watched me with a mix of amusement and concern as I slightly swayed.
Another guard approached, his bare chest glistening in the lantern light. “Care for another dance, my lady?” he asked, his voice pleasantly rough.
“Oh, I definitely care,” I slurred, offering a cheeky grin. Maeve shook her head, but I caught her by the wrist and dragged her along. “Maeve’s coming, too. She’s my moral compass. Or something.”
“More like your human crutch,” Maeve muttered, trying to steady me.
We danced clumsily, laughing at every misstep. The guard, whose name I learned was Conner, was a surprisingly good dancer and managed to keep us both upright despite my increasing inability to coordinate my limbs.
“You have excellent rhythm,” I complimented, slightly breathless.
“Thank you, my lady,” Conner responded warmly. “You're… unique yourself.”
“That's one way to put it,” Maeve chuckled.
I leaned closer. “Conner, Maeve here thinks you're quite handsome, did you know that?”
Maeve gasped and turned scarlet. “My lady!”
Conner chuckled, clearly enjoying her discomfort. “I'm honored, Maeve. Perhaps you'll grant me the next dance?”
Maeve stammered, but before she could refuse, I gently pushed her towards him. “Yes, she absolutely will. She’s too shy to say it, but she’s dying to.”
As Conner whisked Maeve away and her protests melted into hesitant laughter, I stumbled and giggled to myself. Just then, the world tilted and I felt like I was aboard a ship caught in a storm. I steadied myself against a nearby tree and sighed in relief as the rough bark grounded me.
“Having a good time, princess?” a deep voice murmured from the shadows.
A chill raced down my spine.
Before I could respond—or even figure out who’d spoken—strong hands gripped my waist and swiftly pulled me into the darkness behind the trees. My heart thundered wildly in my chest and adrenaline sliced through the wine-induced haze.
Enveloped by shadows, I spun around and pressed my hands against a firm chest. As my eyes slowly adjusted, my heart hammered even faster as familiar obsidian eyes stared down at me, intense and unreadable.
The Shadow Prince.
“Damien?” I whispered breathlessly, my voice catching as the scent of him—smoky and wild—washed over me. “Nice entrance. Dramatic, as always.”
He looked down at me, his jaw tight, muscles tense beneath my fingertips. “You're certainly enjoying yourself tonight. Plenty of shirtless men to entertain you.”
I snorted and tilted my chin up defiantly. “Jealous, are we? Didn't peg you for the type.”
“I'm not jealous,” he growled.
“Oh, please,” I scoffed, poking his chest. “Your eyes are practically glowing green.”
He sighed. “Cat, this little party of yours is dangerous. Thorne could have spies everywhere. You can't afford to draw attention.”
I waved my hand dismissively. “Relax, Shadow Prince. It's just a party. Besides, if Thorne wanted spies here, they'd be too busy drinking and dancing to do their jobs.”
He slightly tightened his grip and forced me to look at him. “I've missed you,” he said.
Heart pounding, I stared up into his eyes, wondering how he always managed to unravel my carefully constructed bravado with just a look. And despite the uncertainty swirling around us, for the moment, everything else faded away.