Page 26 of The First Spark (Dynasty of Fire #1)

“I’ll put him on my guard on a temporary basis, and make a final decision once I get a chance to assess his character.

” Kalie glanced at Hewlett, talking to a crowd of nobles under a glittering chandelier.

The Count of Oakwood’s hushed threat to Grant flitted through her mind, and she narrowed her eyes at Uncle Jerran.

“You have political ambitions for him, don’t you?

Putting him on my guard is a means of advancement? ”

Uncle Jerran gave her a small, secretive smile. “Let’s just say he’s my checkmate.”

Gods, another mortelle reference. Kalie rolled her eyes as he limped away.

She’d have to find Wells. As the only member of her Azurian Guard who hadn’t grown up on a world with a bias against the House of Grant, he’d be in the best position to give her an honest assessment of Mylis.

A collective cry of anticipation rose, then fell into a defeated groan.

Kalie followed the commotion to a cluster of young noblemen crowded around tables in the corner, leaning over whichever reckless peers were gambling their fortunes away tonight.

Shockingly, Wells wasn’t among the degenerates.

Kalie pursed her lips. He would probably find his way over by the end of the night.

She wasn’t the least bit surprised when she found him in a dark corner with a pretty maid, curled up together on a velvet loveseat .

As Kalie cleared her throat, Wells scowled. “What?”

The maid scrambled upright and dropped into a deep curtsey. The shadows didn’t hide her blush.

Kalie waved her to her feet. “Excuse us, please.”

The maid rushed away, straightening her hair. When she was gone, Kalie whirled on Wells.

“My staff is off limits.”

Smirking, Wells smoothed his rumpled suit. Despite the short notice, he’d found one that fit well. “She didn’t seem to mind.”

“I do.”

“Why?” Wells rose to his feet with catlike grace, and Kalie took a step back. Violins strummed a slow, sensitive tune. “Are you jealous?”

“Of course not,” Kalie snapped, folding her arms.

Mother above, she hated this man. She hated his smirk, his taunting, his shameless womanizing and his completely unapologetic demeanor.

He was rude, and arrogant, and what right did he think he had to invade her personal space?

He was so close that his ocean-scented cologne was overwhelming.

So close that, if she looked past his smirk, he was rather handsome.

“Someone’s blushing,” Wells crooned. The violins sped up as he stepped closer, close enough that she smelled spiced Cavanna Cider on his breath. “Are you lying to me, Princess?”

Kalie did not look at his neatly-styled hair, or the immaculate suit emphasizing his muscular figure, or the chiseled features of his sun-bronzed face. Definitely not.

“You’re drunk. You have to be imagining things.”

“I’ve only had a few ciders. I’m definitely sober, and I’ve been told I have perfect vision in every screening I’ve ever done.” Wells stepped closer. Her heart thundered. “So I’ll ask again. Are you lying to me, Princess?”

Kalie glanced at the towering archway that led to the main hall. Her stomach dropped. Julian stood there with his arms crossed, glaring at her. Glancing between him and Wells, she dropped her chin to her chest.

Hadn’t he done the same thing, though, fawning over Selene?

The strumming violins rose from a soft, wintry melody to a rapid, airy tune that reminded her of spring. There were so many ways this could go horribly wrong, but Julian’s glare hovered on her, so she turned to Wells.

“Dance with me.”

Wells’s lips curved. “What?”

“Dance with me,” Kalie hissed, grabbing his scarred, calloused hand. Shocks jolted up her arm, but she refused to think about it. Definitely not. “Pretend we’re flirting.”

“Pretend to flirt—” Wells’s hand landed on the small of her back, and heat rushed through her— “or actually do it?”

“Pretend. Make it look real.” Her voice was breathy and her knees were going weak. She hated it, but she couldn’t look away from him if she tried.

“Your wish is my command, Princess.”

He took a step back, tugging her with him. Another step. Another. Then they became a flurry of motion, whirling across the floor.

The nobles parted around them, and despite everything in Kalie urging her to take the lead, she let Wells guide her in tune with the music. The storm of violins and drums whipped into a frenzy, and her silk gown swished around them in shades of blue.

“Have I ever told you that your eyes are striking?”

If he wasn’t clutching her hands, Kalie would’ve swatted his arm. “That’s your best attempt at flirting?”

“You said to pretend,” Wells taunted, spinning them through a towering archway, “so here I am, pretending. I couldn’t try, or it would be real, wouldn’t it?”

“I hate you, Wells,” she muttered, but she didn’t mean it. Not entirely.

He grinned. “If we’re dancing together, you might as well call me Zane.”

“Hell will freeze over first.”

Wells’s deep, booming laugh made heat pool in her stomach. Shivers jolted up her spine.

“So I’m guessing I can’t call you Kalista?”

Kalie narrowed her eyes as he twirled her rapidly, catching her with effortless grace. The merry notes of the violins escalated to a whirlwind, until it was impossible to tell where one note ended and the next began.

“Keep pushing it, and I’ll fire you.”

He laughed again. Damn Zagan to hell, but flutters danced in her stomach.

Droplets of water sprayed Kalie’s flushed skin as he twirled her in the shadow of a gushing waterfall. The court was undoubtedly watching every move, but the wildness of the dance felt like flying, so she hardly cared.

Euphoria. If there was a word for this song, this dance, it was euphoria.

The music was picking up, and the notes were so enchanting that Kalie let herself go.

Rapid beats flew by, and she couldn’t focus on anything but her footing as Wells tried to match the tempo.

The strain of the effort showed on his face, but they danced on.

Around and around, past bronze pillars and stained glass windows and crackling waterfalls.

The room and frenzied melody blurred into the background, and she could only see his face, could only feel his warm hands and the thumping of her heart, could only smell his ocean spray cologne mingling with her sweet cherry perfume?—

Then he blinked, and as his face dropped, he staggered. For a split second, he stood frozen, staring at her like he was staring at a ghost.

She tightened her grip on his hand. “What’s wrong?”

All color had drained from his face, but he took a shaky breath and guided them through the next steps. “Nothing,” he muttered, as sweat beaded on his forehead, “It’s nothing.”

But his steps were clumsy and slow, nothing like the euphoric whirlwind they’d been before.

Kalie’s chest clenched as he avoided her gaze, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d done something, hurt him somehow.

His face was still pale and drawn as he picked up speed, guiding them through the steps, twirling her like he had before, catching her gracefully?—

“I can’t,” he said abruptly, breaking away mid-step.

The floor fell out from under her. She stumbled, barely catching her footing. Panting, she braced her hands on her knees. He was breathing heavily. His face was stricken and pale, and his silver eyes were haunted.

“I—I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Wells—” As he bolted through the stunned crowd, her jaw fell open. “Wel—Zane!”

The eyes of the court bore into her.

Now was the worst time to make a scene, but they were already whispering.

Wide-eyed, Kalie spun, making the skirt of her dress fly as she took in the sight around her—Wells blazed through the crowd, Selene hid her smirk behind her hand, Haeden…

Haeden . Plastering on a smile, she crossed the space between them, snatched his hand, and tugged him into the dance.

His eyes narrowed, but he fell into step with her.

She pivoted so that the court would see her—calm, content, unconcerned.

Nothing to see here.

The music went on, and the murmured conversations stalled as the court went back to dancing. She caught a brief glimpse of Wells, downing a glass of champagne like a shot, then the crowd knitted together and blocked him out.

“Are we talking about that?” Haeden asked, swaying in tune with the beat.

Kalie shot him a look, and he frowned deeply.

His admonishment thundered in her ears: “Things get hard, you run, someone’s left behind.”

She glanced at the punch table. It would be easy to pretend it had never happened, to dance the night away with Haeden and the others until no one remembered Wells abandoning her on the dance floor.

But she’d seen the genuine pain on Wells’s face.

When the music ended, Kalie tugged on Haeden’s hand, keeping him as a buffer between her and the nobles clamoring for her attention. His lips pursed, but he let her guide him through the crowd without comment.

At the punch table, Wells downed another glass of champagne. He slammed it down on the tray with shaking hands and plucked up another, gulping it down.

“Wells. ”

He didn’t turn.

She glanced at Haeden, who took the clear dismissal with a nod and backed away. Fiddling with the fabric of her skirt, Kalie edged closer to Wells. She’d seen him lash out from anger, but not from this. She almost wished she’d pissed him off instead.

Or maybe she had.

She bit her lip. She’d dragged him into a dance—recklessly, in full view of the court—and he’d gone along with it, he’d even seemed into it, at first… but maybe he hadn’t wanted to. Her family had cost him everything.

“Zane,” she tried, but her voice was subdued. “What’s wrong?”

He kept his back to her as he fumbled with the stem of his empty champagne glass. The song completed its cycle, fading from the jaunty notes of spring and summer back to the sad melody of winter. Finally, he turned. His expression was bleak.

“That shouldn’t have happened,” he mumbled.

“The dance?”

As he stared into his glass, words stuck in Kalie’s throat. “I’m sorry, I?—”

“No,” he said hoarsely, shaking his head. “It’s not you. Don’t apologize.”

A new song started with a thrum of strings. Nobles slunk towards the punch table, making a show of perusing the food to hide their obvious attempts to eavesdrop. She ignored them, even as they snuck glances at her and Zane.

“It was the dancing,” she said, loud enough for the others to hear. “The music. It makes people lose themselves. It meant nothing, right?”

He studied her with unguarded pain on his face. Then the expression vanished, and he swapped his champagne glass for a full one. “Obviously. You did ask me to pretend.”

“Good,” Kalie said, mustering up a taunting smile, “because I still hate you.”

Wells’s grin almost hid the cracks in his facade. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. ”

She waited until the eavesdropping courtiers went back to dancing and gossiping. Then, stepping closer, she lowered her voice.

“Are you really okay?”

His throat bobbed. Raising his glass with trembling hands, he sipped at his champagne. As a lively chorus began and cheers rang out, Wells took a deep breath that sounded like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“My best friend used to love dancing. I learned it for her.”

Even if she wasn’t utterly incapable of imagining Mira twirling across a dance floor, his pensive tone made it clear he wasn’t referring to her.

“Not Mira?”

“Not Mira,” he whispered, clutching the stem of his champagne glass.

“Well, if you ever want to try dancing again…” Kalie faltered, struck by the absurdity that she was offering this to him of all people, but he’d already looked up at her. “I wouldn’t mind going for another round.”

“Thanks.” He set his glass aside, and as he trudged away, his solemn voice drifted back to her: “But I think dancing was ruined for me a long time ago.”