Page 123 of To Touch A Silent Fury

Then he left, turning on his heel. I did not move until he had exited the hall and stepped beyond where I could see him.

I fell back against the stone, every part of me burning. Of all the men to want, why did I have to want the one man I had hated for years? Did he know the power in his gaze?

He was entirely and unjustly intoxicating.

At least my flirtation was convincing, as it was entirely my own. This was it. This was my chance. If he liked me, if he wanted me, maybe there was hope still. If every other of his candidates became insufferable, if he could only think of me… Would he marry me? Was it enough?

I stepped outside.

He stood with his back to me, staring at the flames of a brazier as he drained a cup.

I breathed in and out, and now, it was the Thread’s words which came back to me. I pinned my shoulders back and held my head high.

And I strode right past him, drifting my fingertips over his hand as I passed. The sheer desire, confusion, and frustration in that brush threatened to bring me to my knees, but I kept moving. His emotions were a mirror of my own. A desire neither of us wanted.

Langnathin sucked in a breath from behind me as I passed him, but I set my eyes on my destination and did not falter. I strode straight over to Theollan. If the Dragon Prince could be jealous, if he might step forwards to prevent an engagement to the Scentlands, I had to press that advantage.

My Eavenfold kin was entirely sober, and his clothes entirely perfect, with a white, full doublet lined with silvered thread and pale sand trousers. His power enabled him to track down living things within a certain vicinity, though the man looked as far from a ranger as one could. I wondered if his Fate would grant him tracking over inanimate things, or merely increase his distance.

He greeted me with a kind nod. “How are you?”

“Confused.”

“He watches you,” Theollan said under his breath, his braided hair still perfect. “The prince.”

“Good,” I said. “The family has heard the rumours of your prince’s interest.”

He raised his brow at that. “Already?”

“I believe my guard, Wainstrill, might have seen you on your knees in the garden.”

“Ah,” he replied, a blush touching his cheeks. “I see how that might have looked.”

I touched his clothed arm. “To our mutual advantage, even if unintended.”

“I am better at this deception than I knew.” Then his jaw clenched, and he reached for the cup I had picked up as an idle prop. “Give me that,” he said, his back straightening. “The prince approaches.”

“So soon?” I murmured, but gave him the cup and smoothed my dress. If he spoke with me here, was this not just as public as a dance?

But I heard the lumbering footsteps, and the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. I knew Langnathin’s steps. Those were not him.

The gruff voice confirmed my fears. “There you are.”

It was notmyprince, then. It was the other. The brute. I tamed the sourness from my face before I turned. “Yes, Your Grace.”

I appraised Banrillen. His shirt was unbuttoned, but on him it only made him look sloppy, with a smear of something on his collar. He looked drunk, and his eyes were more exploratory than I was comfortable with. “Did you need something?”

He grinned, offering me his palm. “How about that second dance?”

Behind him, I saw Langnathin studying us from the same spot I’d left him in, his eyes dark.

I smiled politely at the Wragg. “I’m very tired, Your Grace. My feet are not used to dancing.”

“Fine,” he said, his voice clipped, his hand still outstretched between us. “Come with me. I’ll show you the rest of the gardens.”

I sensed his anger, his unwillingness to take no for an answer. Agreeing had to be the path of least resistance. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

I placed my hand in his, and every part of his unpleasant countenance infected me again. His seething rage choked me as he pulled me towards the unlit gardens behind, the hedges rising like dark ghosts and the shadows pulling us in like sleep to a nightmare.