Page 14

Chapter

Fourteen

A s Cassius felt Flora’s fingers find his, warmth erupted from the contact, shooting across his skin and up his arm. It was like she’d started a fire with her touch, but no fire had ever burned so much and hurt so little.

A moment before, Cassius had felt hemmed in by the bonds of the tether, but any sense of restriction fled as he led Flora into the dance by his side. They wouldn’t have to be careful of their movements, half their attention focused on making sure they stayed within their allotted distance, because they would be together for the whole dance. Their movements would be the same, their tether unnecessary. It flashed through his mind that this was freedom…not being cut loose from the bond that tied him to Flora, but transcending it by merging into one purpose, one mind, one dance.

It was an illusion, he knew, but he would embrace the sensation of oneness for as long as the song lasted.

He didn’t speak, and neither did Flora. But his eyes never wavered from her face as he led her through the dance. She moved with the grace of a swan, never missing a step, her touch light on his arm and her hand steady in his. It was hard to maintain the loose hold the dance required. The impulse to tighten his grip, to pull her flush against him and slide his arm around that tapering waist, was frighteningly strong.

He’d thought she had nothing of the guard in her earlier, but this was a new level. The woman in his arms was the most beautiful, elegant, comfortable person he’d ever encountered. She was as captivating as a bejeweled princess would be to a peasant boy, but she also had all the familiarity of a trusted friend. He’d never experienced anything like it, and he couldn’t make sense of the fact that with Flora so close, he simultaneously felt safer than he had with anyone in his life and yet knew himself to be in a previously unimagined level of danger.

And the most intoxicating part of it all was that when he looked into her eyes, he didn’t see a part she was playing. It was her real self he held in his arms, no mask up between them.

The musicians picked up speed, and Cassius spun Flora in a circle as the dance required. It was no casual folk dance, and she knew the steps intricately, but any curiosity about that mystery was lost in the sensation that swept over him. As Flora moved in an arc, she used some mysterious flick of her hips to send her skirts cascading out in the most extravagant flourish—and a moment later, something akin to a hot wind swirled around their joined hands.

It seemed to press Flora’s hand closer into his, sealing them in an embrace of fingers before it passed up Cassius’s arm, raising goosebumps along his skin. He felt it ruffle his hair in a gesture that felt, in some inscrutable way, like Flora.

She was using the magic created by her skirt’s movement.

His eyes met hers in silent awe, and she took it as encouragement. With the next spin, he felt something even more curious, this time around his feet. It wasn’t like a wind, more like an invisible cushion had slid under him, buoying him up so that his feet left the floor by the tiniest margin.

For a breathless moment, they were both weightless, dancing on winged feet as they glided across the floor more smoothly than their normal steps could ever manage.

No one else would even see the difference, but to the pair of them, the sensation was marvelous. It somehow made physical what his heart had been experiencing throughout their dance.

The power petered out, their renewed steps feeling clumsy by comparison as the musicians gently closed out the song.

Cassius was left still and silent, staring into Flora’s face as her breaths came rapidly. He felt breathless himself, and it wasn’t just from the exertion of the dance.

“That was…the most magical magic I’ve ever felt.” He sounded as green as that squire who’d so presumptuously hoped to dance with his Flora.

She smiled, the expression softening every feature, all the way to her eyes.

“It’s not a useful trick. But it feels like how dancing should feel. At least, I don’t know how else to say it.”

“You said it perfectly. And you dance beautifully.”

He was aware that his voice was too low and intense, and also that he should have released her by now. But his hand was refusing to draw back from its position around her waist, or to unclasp the fingers still tangled through hers. She wasn’t pulling back either, her form sagging a little, most likely worn out by the exertion of the magic as much as the physical effort of so much dancing. The energy cost of wielding magic was a chief reason so few people pursued excellence in the craft. It required a type of physical and mental strength that was very different from the strength of hand-to-hand combat. And Flora had it in spades.

“Thank you,” Flora said. “For all of it, I mean.” She looked around, breaking their moment of intimate focus. “I know you’ll pay a price for lowering yourself to dance with a guard.”

His grip tightened, but she wasn’t done.

“But I confess I was glad to not feel like a guard for a while. I enjoyed feeling like…well, like a princess.” She sounded surprised at her own words, but they were apt, in Cassius’s opinion.

You are like a princess. He didn’t say the words aloud. Instead he released her waist, keeping hold of her hand as he led her away from the dancers who were starting up for the next song.

“There is no price that I regard,” he told her instead. “If anything, I should be thanking you. Believe me, that was the first dance I’ve actually enjoyed all evening.”

She gave him a crooked grin as they neared a table. “Magic does enhance the experience, doesn’t it?”

It was on the tip of Cassius’s tongue to say that it wasn’t the magic, it was her, but he never uttered the words. Flora’s gaze flew over his shoulder, and she withdrew her hand from his. Before he knew what was happening, she’d taken a step forward and seized her skirts in both fists.

Quick as lightning, she swept the fabric violently from side to side, her eyes narrowed in concentration as Cassius spun around in response to gasps from behind him.

He blinked at the sight of a tall cake stand—made of metal and towering above his head—resting at an impossible angle, its edge inches from Cassius’s face. By the time Cassius grasped that Flora had used another cushioning enchantment to prevent it from falling onto the back of his head, two serving men had hurried forward to stabilize it.

As soon as they had hold of it, Flora stopped moving. Her cushioning enchantment disappeared, and a number of small cakes tumbled onto Cassius before hitting the floor, as the serving men pushed the stand upright.

“Are you unharmed?” Flora asked the question with concern in her eyes, in spite of the fact that her form now drooped visibly.

“I’m fine,” Cassius said quickly, waving off the sputtering apology of the clumsy serving girl who’d knocked the tower with the same unconcern with which he was brushing crumbs from his clothes. “You’ve overdone it, haven’t you, Flora? You look exhausted.”

“I didn’t channel the ideal amount of the power to my own energy,” she acknowledged, relaxing as she saw that he was unhurt. “But I can’t have you being crushed by a metal cake stand on my watch, can I? I’m still your bodyguard, remember.”

Cassius gave her a look, silently calling out the exaggerated use of the word crushed . But his attention was claimed by others before he could speak—his guards and the head server had arrived, and all looked intent on making a much bigger fuss than the minor incident called for.

As Cassius reassured everyone involved that there was no cause for concern or further apologies, Flora moved away a short distance. It made little difference—her presence was seared in his awareness, his mind tied to her every movement. The tether had never felt more tangible.

Clearly it wasn’t obvious to those around him how attuned he was to her, because the trio of courtiers standing just beside Flora spoke with all the confidence of believing themselves unobserved.

“Did I hear her say she’s still his bodyguard?” The words, issued in a tone of scorn and accompanied by a nasty titter, were obviously intended for Flora’s ears, even if not addressed to her. “Does she expect people to believe that?”

“Bodyguard, pah,” another chimed in. “I could find a less discreet word for it.”

Anger stirred in Cassius, and he turned his head to look at Flora. She was staring stoically ahead, her mask back up as she scanned the area like an actual bodyguard would.

“There is nothing more embarrassing than a servant—of any kind—not knowing her place,” a third courtier chimed in, this one a man. “Do you think she hopes to be accepted as a legitimate guest? I wonder she keeps her position after so brazenly arriving on duty dressed like that .”

His tone would make anyone think Flora was prancing around in her undergarments instead of swathed in material from head to toe. Wearing something becoming was its own offense in the eyes of the jealous.

“No one would confuse her with a legitimate guest,” one of the women retorted. “Not when she conducts herself with so little dignity.”

Cassius had heard enough. He strode away from the still-apologizing head server, his frame quivering with anger as he approached Flora. The fact that she was taking the undeserved insults with silent grace only made the offense worse. She’d been put through so much through no fault of her own, and for anyone to accuse her of a lack of dignity was outrageously unjust. He longed to tell the trio of courtiers what he really thought of their manners.

“Thank you for your intervention,” he told Flora instead, his voice carrying. “I’m grateful that you attended tonight as I requested.” His eyes passed over her shoulder to settle on the trio of listening courtiers. “To elevate the company.”

Flora shifted, and looking back at her, he saw that her shoulders had tightened, tension written on the line of her jaw. She was weary, and she wasn’t hiding it as well as she thought.

“Come on,” he said. “We’re leaving.”

She frowned in confusion. “Already? It’s not necessary to leave your own ball on my account, Your Highness.”

“I’m ready to retire,” he told her firmly. “So I’m afraid you have little choice.”

Flora stopped arguing, but he could see that she wasn’t satisfied. It confused him—he’d been sure she would be glad to leave the ballroom.

Cassius could feel his mother glaring at him, but he didn’t give her the chance to reprimand him. She would be furious he’d danced with Flora, and even more furious he was leaving the ball so early. But that price could be paid later. Tonight he was too worked up—both from the moment with Flora and his anger at her treatment—to deal with his mother.

Followed by the usual pair of guards, he left the ballroom, Flora walking alongside the guards with a subdued gait.

The queen wasn’t the only one watching him. As they moved away from the table and the unstable cake stand, Cassius felt eyes on him. He turned his head to see Sir Keavling standing near the table they’d just left. Had he been there the whole time? Cassius hadn’t noticed him, but if so, he was close enough that he might have heard the exchange with the courtiers. And yet he’d stayed unobtrusive rather than putting himself forward as he usually did with the king.

Cassius didn’t like it.

The prince and his companions moved out of the ballroom swiftly, walking in silence through the halls. It was peaceful, with most of the castle’s usual inhabitants clustered in the ballroom. Once they reached the royal wing, Cassius dismissed his guards. He didn’t miss the way their eyes slid over Flora, still hovering, as they moved down the corridor. He waited until they were out of sight before speaking to her.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

Her stiff manner was so far from the warmth she’d shown as they danced. The memory of that kept Cassius lingering. How did he get her to drop her mask again? He craved it more than was wise.

“You’ve overextended yourself, haven’t you?” Cassius asked, frowning.

The sound of footsteps forestalled her answer, and a moment later a pair of maids rounded the corner.

Once they were out of sight, Cassius tried again.

“What’s wrong, Flora? Tell me.”

“Nothing is wrong,” she said firmly.

Cassius didn’t miss the cautious way she watched the corner ahead.

“Come inside,” he said, pushing open the door to his receiving room. “We can’t talk here. ”

She hesitated for a moment, but followed him in. Cassius’s chest tightened strangely, and he told himself he was being absurd. Thanks to the impracticalities of their tether, she’d been obliged to step into his receiving room many times. This situation was no different.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Flora,” he said, as soon as the door closed behind them. “I heard what those ill-mannered fools said about you. But don’t let it—”

“I don’t care what they said,” Flora cut him off. “You should have stayed out of it.”

He paused, searching her eyes. Why was she angry with him?

“No, I shouldn’t,” he contradicted. “They were saying vile things about you for doing what I asked you to do. Was I supposed to let that pass in silence?”

“Yes,” she said promptly. “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do. You’re a prince, Cassius, and you’re not supposed to expose yourself to conflict every time one of your guards gets into trouble.”

“You’ve done nothing to get yourself into trouble.” Cassius felt his brows lower.

“I don’t expect you to make life fair,” Flora told him earnestly. “No one can do that. Do you think I’ve followed you around this long without seeing the strife you’re already in? Don’t increase it on my account! First the guards, then the housekeeper…now your own court. You can’t pick a fight with everyone who makes a snide remark about me.”

“I can, and I will,” said Cassius stubbornly.

“You’ll make your life so much harder than it needs to be!” Flora protested. “Do you think arguing with the staff over me will increase your standing in your father’s eyes?”

“That’s my affair,” Cassius told her .

“It doesn’t help anyway,” she insisted. “If you defend me to their faces, it will only make them hate me more. The best course is to stop intervening.”

Cassius let out a quiet growl. “I can’t do that.”

“You want to protect me, but I don’t need your protection.” The words burst from her, as if she could hold in her frustration no longer. “I’m supposed to be protecting you, Cassius! I’m your bodyguard!”

When had she dispensed with his title? He hadn’t noticed it happening—he didn’t think she’d even realized what she’d done. But he found he liked it. In fact, the sound of his name so casually on her lips was dangerously close to intoxicating.

Cassius stepped forward, his eyes holding hers in an iron grip as he formed every word with deliberate care.

“It’s not that I want to protect you, Flora. That would imply I want to see you in danger so as to have the satisfaction of being protector. Nothing could be further from the truth. But when I see you under attack, I find it impossible to simply stand by. Call yourself my bodyguard if you wish—it won’t change a thing.”

Her eyes flickered, and he saw her swallow nervously. Did he make her nervous? Did her heart start to race as he took yet another step closer?

His seemed determined to double its pace.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I was in no danger,” she said at last. “Was I being unjustly criticized? Maybe. But—”

“I don’t like that either,” Cassius said darkly. “You’ve shown nothing but integrity and capability—you don’t deserve to be maligned.”

“What does it matter what strangers think of me?” Flora said simply. “I know who I am, I don’t have anything to prove to them. You do have something to prove, and you won’t prove it by defending the servants.”

Cassius ran a hand through his hair in a gesture of hopelessness. A week ago, her words would have hit uncomfortably close to home, but now he couldn’t find it in him to care about any of it. She spoke of herself as a servant, but she’d never been that to him. How could he make her understand that he was perfectly aware that defending her was against his interests and that he simply didn’t care?

“Don’t ask me to stand by while you’re insulted and abused,” he said flatly. “I won’t do it. I can’t. Your capability deserves to be recognized.”

Flora’s face was hard to read—he almost thought he saw her lip quiver. He couldn’t be sure since he forced himself not to let his attention linger on that feature.

“What is it?” he pressed, when she didn’t speak. “What are you thinking?”

“Only that those are strange words coming from you.” Flora’s face was still a mask. “I thought you didn’t need my services as your guard specifically because you consider me incapable of fulfilling the role to your satisfaction.”

“What?” He stared at her. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” She folded her hands—he had the distinct impression it was to stop them shaking. “You claim to admire my capability as you put it, but you wouldn’t even consider letting me continue my role as Princess Miriam’s personal guard after your wedding. You dismissed me as inadequate immediately.”

“Is that what you think?” Cassius found himself suddenly towering over her, although he didn’t remember stepping closer. His legs brushed against her full skirts, so different from the practical clothes she usually wore. She was so near that he could feel the heat of her body, and her eyes stared up at him in a way that was incredibly distracting. “Your capability has nothing to do with it.”

She swallowed, her voice fainter as her eyes remained fixed on his. “Then what?”

“You,” he said simply. “You’re the problem.”

“I’m the…problem?”

Nothing seemed to move but her lips as she repeated the words. She was immobilized, her form inches from his. He couldn’t tell if it was because she found his nearness as intoxicating as he found hers, or because she was frozen like a wary rabbit in the sights of a hunter.

“You’re wrong that I didn’t consider the idea,” he told her, his voice gruff and low. “When you asked me about being the personal guard to my…wife,” he stumbled slightly over the word, “I pictured it clearly. Me, married to Princess Miriam, and you, always near…” He trailed off, struggling for words that would make her understand without being too revealing. “I couldn’t agree to it, Flora. The image was…unbearable.”

She said nothing, her dark eyes as deep as wells.

Cassius found himself leaning even closer. Flora didn’t do anything to close the distance, but she didn’t pull away, either. After a charged moment, she lowered her eyes, staring at his embroidered jacket instead of his face.

Ignoring the voice of wisdom, Cassius reached out and slid one calloused finger along her jaw, tilting her head back up until his eyes captured hers once again.

“Tell me the truth, Flora.” His voice was a gruff murmur now. “Would that life be sustainable?”

“I…” She hesitated, her chest rising and falling a little too quickly. “I would never seek to cause you trouble, Your Highness. ”

The tiniest growl escaped him at this renewed use of his title. “For me, you are trouble, Flora.”

He dipped his head ever so slightly downward, drawn by a magnetism he knew was unwise but he couldn’t seem to resist.

Flora was stronger than him, apparently. Or perhaps the pull simply wasn’t as powerful for her. Because a moment later she’d stepped swiftly backward, leaving chill emptiness in her wake, and forcing him to slowly lower his hand.

“I regret that I’ve caused you trouble, Your Highness,” she said, her voice not natural. “I truly only ever meant to help.” Her hands were definitely shaking this time as she folded them behind her back with a rustle of fabric. “Do you need further assistance, or may I retire for the night?”

Cassius swallowed the absurd desire to grab hold of her shoulders and tell her that he needed her assistance every hour of every day.

He straightened his back. What was wrong with him? He’d spent all his youth and adult years avoiding the attempts of women in the court to ensnare him. How had he allowed himself to be so bewitched by a woman who clearly wasn’t trying to bewitch him? So many times she’d told him she didn’t need or want his help, and yet he was still determined to rush to her side. He was embarrassed by his own weakness.

“Of course you may retire,” he said, glad to hear that his voice was now steady and impassive. “I will not be returning to the gala tonight.”

With a half-hearted attempt at a bow, Flora fled from the room, almost tripping over her dress.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Cassius buried his face in one hand. What had come over him? How was he failing so dismally to keep to the high standard of behavior necessary for one of his position? He should never have allowed himself to share such an intimate moment with the Siqualian guard. He should never have danced with her.

But he couldn’t bring himself to regret any of it. Not when he remembered how her stiff form had relaxed as her eyes looked up into his, or the softness of her skin when he’d touched her jaw. And the dance…never in his life could he remember feeling so connected to another person.

He was in trouble, there was no doubt about it. A kind of trouble that lifting the tether wouldn’t solve. In fact, it would only make it worse, given that the tether could only be lifted once his betrothal to Princess Miriam was made official. Quite possibly it wouldn’t even lift until the marriage had occurred. He didn’t know how rigidly the enchantment would define the marriage alliance being sealed.

A servant appeared shortly after Flora left, expecting to assist the prince to prepare for bed. Cassius sent him away. He didn’t want anyone hovering around him. The faint sensation of the tether stretching through the wall and into the next suite was unsettling enough.

He stripped off his finery and climbed into bed in his long undershirt and leggings. He just wanted to reach the oblivion of sleep as soon as possible.

He’d barely settled under the covers, however, when he felt a light touch around his middle. He drew back, about to throw off the blankets to search for a rodent or other unwanted guest. But as he shifted, the pressure disappeared, and he paused.

He slid back along the bed, moving away from the door that led into his receiving room. Once again he felt it, feather light but distinct, as though hands had slid gently around his middle.

He recognized the sensation—he was at the end of the tether. He stilled, looking over his shoulder at the wall on the far side of his bedchamber. The bed sat against the outside wall, with a window on each side of it, meaning that it was perpendicular to the corridor. He knew that Flora’s suite was a mirror of his own, so their two receiving rooms—not connected by any interior door—both stood between the respective bedchambers. The beds must be only just within twenty feet of one another. Had she been sleeping right on the near edge of her bed all these nights so as not to push the boundary of the tether?

She wasn’t doing so tonight. In fact, as Cassius shifted carefully toward the outer edge of his own bed, the sensation of the tether intensified. It wasn’t just him moving. She also was maneuvering herself so that the tether could be felt.

It was so much like her arms were around him. It wasn’t like a rope, or an iron bar. It was like a woman’s arms, slim but strong, just as Flora’s were, knotted loosely around his midriff. Did it feel to her like his arms, thicker and more muscled than her own?

When he tugged, he could feel the whole tether move slightly in response to his greater physical strength. He could drag her if he chose, not that he had any desire to control her. Feeling foolish, he slid a hand along his stomach, almost expecting to feel something there.

But of course there was nothing.

It was all an illusion, created by Lord Armand’s infuriating, outrageous enchantment. Cassius was alone with his burdens, as he had always been, and there was no one beside him. He had no reason to ever expect anyone by his side, other than a stranger, tied to him for political reasons.

It wouldn’t be Flora.

It couldn’t be.

But was this how it would have felt if they’d abandoned propriety and shared the bed that first night in the inn?

He closed his eyes, a yearning ache filling him and overwhelming him with its intensity. What wouldn’t he give to have her beside him in all legitimacy? To have the freedom to put his arms around her and hold her close?

Foolish thought! There was a great deal he wouldn’t give— couldn’t give—for that outcome. The wellbeing of his kingdom, for a start, not to mention the stability of the whole Peninsula. And, a confronting voice whispered in his mind, the respect of his father. Cassius shuddered to think of the king’s reaction if he knew his son’s thoughts.

But his father didn’t know his thoughts. No one could. And the burdens of tomorrow couldn’t be solved tonight. There was no one and nothing to stop Cassius from surrendering himself to the sensation of Flora’s arms around him, however illusory it might be.

He stopped all movement, lying on his back and focusing his mind on the magical sensation of the tether. He could feel it when he really tried, an invisible line that ran out from him and into the emptiness of his receiving room. Flora must still be inching along, because the grip around him was growing tighter and stronger.

He pictured her face as it had looked when her eyes had been held captive by his. He saw again the way her lip had quivered ever so slightly when she accused him of thinking her incapable and unnecessary. He remembered the feel of her jawline under his hand, strong but soft, just like she was. All of those memories were so much more potent when he could physically feel her hold at the end of the tether.

But as the pressure remained steady, the question burned inside him. Was she pushing the boundary of the tether tonight because she, like him, craved the sense of nearness? Or was it the opposite…was she trying to escape it, wishing she could pull free of it, back to the independence that had been forcefully taken from her?

No answer to this crucial question emerged from the darkness of his room.