Page 31

She wandered to a table of refreshments and pretended to study the sugar-coated almonds, dried pomegranates, and chutes of bubbling liquid.

She took a glass, lifting it as slowly as possible as she brought it to her lips and sipped.

Then, she sipped again. When nothing happened in the room around her, she sipped a third time.

Divinities, this was going to be a long evening.

“Can you spare me a dance, Lady Electus?”

Ryn turned. Warmness bled across the injury in her side when she locked gazes with a pair of dark eyes she only knew from an encounter that left her slashed by a sword. Damon . The young Intelligentsia’s hood was off now, but he still wore his sage cloak.

“I… Isn’t it a rule that no one is supposed to dance until the King has started dancing?” she asked from a dry throat.

Damon smiled, if what he did could be called a smile. His purple mouth curled, but no warmth reached his eyes. There wasn’t a single freckle on his glitter-dusted face, and his black hair was as neat and shiny as Calliope’s.

“The King has already started dancing,” he said.

Ryn glanced past the Intelligentsia and sure enough, there was Xerxes in a special navy jacket with gold details and a dark cape.

He even wore a gilded crown inlaid with onyx and diamonds.

He held Calliope close, guiding her around the dancefloor while she smiled beautifully with her bright, glistening lips.

At the sight of them, Ryn doubted Xerxes had really sent Calliope away the other night like Calliope claimed.

Ryn’s glass slipped from her hand— Damon caught it. He flashed a smile and lifted it to his own mouth, taking a long drink. Ryn blinked in surprise at herself. “Sorry,” she murmured.

Damon chuckled and placed it back on the table. “The King is surprising, isn’t he? I didn’t think he’d want to come tonight, but it looks like he’s enjoying himself,” he said, then he extended a hand. “Allow me?”

Ryn looked around, wondering who in the whole ballroom she would talk to if she didn’t follow Damon. But of course, there was no one.

She took Damon’s hand.

“Hmm.” Damon tugged her to the dance floor. “It’s strange. At first, I thought the King would only smile at you . But it seems he’s gotten past that.”

Ryn’s gaze swept back over to Xerxes. He flashed Calliope a dazzling closed-mouth smile, and Calliope released a soft, feminine laugh in return.

Onlookers clapped and nodded, and Ryn was sure she was witnessing the blossoming romance children read about in fairytales.

Two glittering young nobles who couldn’t take their eyes off each other.

If she wasn’t seeing it in person, Ryn might not have believed it. Up until this moment Ryn didn’t think Xerxes even wanted to get married at the end of all this. He must have changed his mind.

Ryn bumped into Damon’s chest. She lifted a hand to her forehead and tried coughing out an apology. “Sorry, I’m just…” Nothing else came after that. She had no explanation for her strange behavior. She closed her mouth.

What, by the Divinities, was she so worried about?

Why did she care if Xerxes danced with Calliope first?

Or if Xerxes danced with anyone at all? Why did it matter if he smiled at other maidens?

It was better this way. Ryn had briefly become the centre of his attention, so if Xerxes liked Calliope, things would only get easier for Ryn. Especially Xerxes being assassinated—

Ryn nearly choked at the thought. She forgot how to keep moving forward, and the lights played tricks on her eyes as the dancefloor went in and out of focus.

She shrieked when Damon pulled her snugly against him, all assassination thoughts vanishing. “What are you doing?” she demanded. She nudged Damon, but he held tight to her waist and studied her with a crooked smile.

“Haven’t you been to a dance before, Lady Electus?” he asked. “Don’t you know how these things work?”

Ryn took in the room, making a fast study of how the noble women danced. There weren’t many other couples dancing though, and she wondered how long it would be before everyone in sight questioned whether she’d ever attended a nobles’ dance.

“I wanted a moment with you so I could apologize.” Damon guided her a step backward and twirled her beneath his hand. He pulled her close again when she was around. “For attacking you that day. I was only doing my duty to protect the King. You understand.”

Ryn met his dark eyes against her better judgement.

His irises swam with rich, deep brown. It was difficult to tell if his apology was sincere.

His handsome features told an unusual story; one that made her sure that even though she could access the power of the Adriel God, she was dancing with a devil.

“I accept your apology,” she said. She stole a look at the refreshment tables, wondering if this conversation was over.

A dimple appeared in Damon’s cheek when he smiled. “I hope we can be friends then.”

Ryn made a face.

Friends?

His laugh rang across the dancefloor, and a few heads turned. “You don’t need to be so repulsed by the idea, Maiden,” Damon said, and Ryn closed her mouth. He added, “Oh look. The King is dancing with another maiden. I wonder if he’s forgotten about you?”

Xerxes was with Ulita. Ryn watched him give Ulita the same smile he’d granted Calliope as he twirled her, Ulita’s curls bouncing.

When Damon placed a finger beneath Ryn’s chin and tilted her face up, she thought her stomach had fallen out.

Damon gazed at her, his face serious. Too serious, and too intense.

Their mouths weren’t that far apart anymore, but Ryn didn’t think he’d dare try something so forbidden.

She became aware of people watching, of what they might conclude of a maiden being this close to another man.

She impulsively smacked Damon’s hand away and tore back.

“Don’t touch me,” she whispered.

Damon smiled wider, his lips slicing across his pale face. Laughing at her.

Ryn pushed a strand of hair behind her ear as the stares of everyone in the ballroom burned across her neck, her back, and Marcan’s beautiful, eye-grabbing gown. She glanced toward the open ballroom doors that led to an empty hall.

Damon sauntered back, his hands in the pockets of his sage coat. She ripped her gaze from the doors when he leaned in and whispered in her ear, “You should get used to running into me.”

“Estheryn.”

Ryn spun around.

Xerxes stood there. His crown was in his hand instead of on his head, his cape fluttering in the ballroom breeze. He glanced between her and Damon.

Ryn interlocked her fingers so she wouldn’t hold her hands against her hot cheeks to cool down. Her mouth was too dry to form a greeting. She kept her gaze on the floor.

Damon gave the King a smile and bowed though. “Your Majesty,” he greeted for both of them. “I hope you have an excellent evening.” Without being dismissed, he waved at someone nearby and headed in that direction. Xerxes watched him go.

A second later, Xerxes closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. When he opened them again, he tossed his crown at a passing organizer. The organizer fumbled to catch it, barely managing to keep it from smashing over the tiled floor.

Ryn couldn’t breathe when Xerxes stepped to her. She placed a hand over her chest. “I feel ill,” she said, brushing toward the ballroom door. “I think I should leave—”

“Don’t leave,” Xerxes said. “Stay with me.”

He didn’t ask about Damon, or what she was doing so close to him, or why she was flushed. Xerxes just held out his hand, and he waited. He didn’t offer her a smile like he’d gifted the other maidens.

His jaw flexed a little when she didn’t take his hand. “It’s rude to keep a king waiting,” he pointed out.

Ryn swallowed. She tried to hide her shaking when she put her hand in his. She didn’t know if Xerxes noticed as he guided her over the floor. His fingers tightened around hers. “Be careful around Damon,” he warned.

Once in the middle of the room, Xerxes stopped and turned her to face him. He took her waist, keeping a hold on her opposite fingers. Ryn’s feet were heavy in her sandals. She waited for him to lead.

“Ryn.”

The name snapped her from her daze, and she looked up at him in surprise.

“Can I call you Ryn ?” Xerxes asked. His mouth quirked at the corner. It wasn’t a wide smile—not like the loud, obvious smiles he’d given the other girls. He might have been trying not to laugh. “You can call me Xerxes,” he offered. “It’s only fair.”

“I… Alright.” She wondered where he’d heard that nickname—if Heva had accidentally said it in front of him. But Heva was so careful… How then? Marcan? No, he only called her Estheryn . Ryn chewed on her lip.

When Xerxes smirked like he could read her mind, an unlikely smile threatened her own face. Her feet eased into motion; she followed as he drifted back, pulling her along. The King’s dark hair was a stark contrast to the lights above, and the threads in his jacket sparkled as he moved.

“Damon is a troublemaker, and he can be quite convincing when he wants something,” Xerxes said. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he studied her, and Ryn blinked. Did Xerxes really think Ryn had been swayed by Damon just now?

“I don’t like Damon—”

“Who do you like then?” he asked, leaning in. The fragrance of sweet fruit and soap swept over her. “Do you like someone else?” And then he added, “ Ryn? ” He paused. “Ryn,” he said again.

A grin broke across her face. “Do you like saying my name?”

Xerxes tsked. “Of course not. It’s boring. It’s only three letters and it’s not exciting at all, and it’s boring.” He bit his tongue, and Ryn laughed.

“How childish of you,” she said.