Page 39

KLEOS

R eally, him ?

Out of all of my mother’s extended relations, if I had to choose one I’d happily never speak to again, it would have been Cousin Castor. Technically, he was my mother’s second cousin, but as he was only two years older than me, they’d made me call him “cousin” since I was a child.

I paid very little attention to the list of suitors my mother sent, only scheduling the meetings when I had the time.

At first, Mother had insisted on proper dates: letting them pick me up, take me to dinner, and bring me back home.

After the tenth time one of the asses had attempted to grope me in the cab back, I snapped, and said I wasn’t ever doing that again.

The thing was, it was expected for an adult Pendros to either be married, or actively accepting courtship requests.

Not belonging to either column was a subject of conflict between my maternal grandparents and my mother.

They were old, old-fashioned, set in their ways, and already generally pissed at my mother for daring to have a career rather than pumping out babies.

The Pendros line was one of the largest in Highvale, and they took pride in it.

The fact that their most illustrious daughter had her tubes tied after one child was a huge subject of arguments and scorn.

I didn’t much like that side of the family, other than a little cousin who believed that their values were all crap just like I did.

If they were annoyed with me, it was their business.

But Mother was all about appearances, and that meant keeping the peace.

She was quite attached to her own independence.

Mine was another story. Besides, I thought she agreed that my unmarried, entirely uninterested in their idea of dating, state wasn’t proper .

But… him ?

Castor was my cousin. I realized we were at least twice removed, but ew .

I couldn’t believe he’d made an application to court me.

I couldn’t believe Mother had accepted him as a suitor.

When she said she wanted me to dance with Valmont, I expected Thomas or Daniel Valmont, who were perhaps just as boring as Castor, but at least not related to me .

That didn’t seem to bother him, given the fact that he was too fascinated by my tits to pay attention to his steps.

Staring as intently as he did was a feat, given the fact that my dress revealed very little.

At first, I assumed his eyes were on the rows of diamond, but no, the gaze dropped distinctively lower.

As did his hand, sliding from the small of my back to my butt several times.

Would this song never end?

But it was Valse Triste by Sibelius, and by the sound of it, the orchestra intended to play every single second of the painful six and a half minutes.

I was considering hexing the balls of the conductor with an itching curse popular back in high school when my entire body straightened, alerted by an approaching presence moments before someone cleared their throat.

I purposely took my time to turn to face the ridiculously beautiful man in his ridiculously expensive custom suit, cut to emphasize every muscle, the breadth of his wide shoulders, his slim waist, and those thighs. He was indecent . And I should be staring at him from a distance.

He shouldn’t be here. He said it himself; we were supposed to act like nothing was wrong to avoid alerting my attacker.

Lucian Regis approaching me was not normal.

I stared in silence, completely baffled by his presence.

A small, haughty smirk at the corner of his lips, amusement in the gray of his eyes, he simply placed his arm around my waist and pulled me close.

“You’ll excuse me,” he said to Castor, giving no other justification.

Then, he grasped my hand, and I was twirled out of my cousin’s awkward grip, and landed against his chest, my back flush against his. Then, he was waltzing us around the floor with all the grace and precision of a professional, wordlessly, smoothly.

I’d seen him dance with his mother and with Kore, who was even now watching us from one side of the room, looking as though she was ready to stab me.

Not that I could blame her. Lucian never danced with anyone else: only his mother and her.

Eleven years of attending these parties had made that fact obvious to me.

But we were waltzing.

I never could have guessed that it would be so easy, so natural, seamless.

I loved the orchestra now. What was I thinking, cursing the poor, talented conductor? I ought to send him flowers.

The music was over far too soon.

“What are you doing?” I managed to whisper.

Lucian was unapologetic, as always. “Saving you. That was painful to watch. How are your feet?”

I was undeterred. “I thought we were going to pretend everything was normal,” I gritted between my teeth.

“Isn’t it?” he tilted his head.

His hand returned to my waist as we moved slower now, in rhythm with the next song.

“I spent six months in the Guard—with your cousin, to boot. Everyone knows as much. It's only natural that we would have gotten acquainted."

He said it like it was so simple. One glance behind my shoulder, and the many, many shocked eyes I spotted told another story. "You never dance with anyone except your mother and your girlfriend," I hissed.

"Good to hear you've been watching me, Valesco."He chuckles, then tilts his head. "Wait, my girlfriend?"

The moment comprehension hit—there was only one woman he danced with other than Cassiopea, after all—he stopped dancing and stared at me, horrified.“You thought we were together. Me and Kore. Kore and I.”

"Aren't you?" I made myself shrug indifferently. “You’re always with her at these parties, hovering protectively whenever someone so much as looks at her, let alone dare ask her for a waltz. I mean, it’s rather endearing how protective?—”

He interrupted me with, “I’m going to throw up."

Indeed, he looked a little green.

I smiled without even meaning to. “I take it she’s not your girlfriend, partner, betrothed…”

"Please stop talking," he begged. “Kore’s my cousin!”

Oh. I never would have guessed. They truly looked nothing alike. Then again, he didn't really look like his mother either. His only relatives with his distinctive appearance were Cassius and his brother Damian.

The notion seemed so disdainful to him, I couldn't help needling him a little. He certainly did the same to me whenever he could.

“Well, that never stopped European royals before.” I smirked. “If you don’t want people to talk, dance with someone else from time to time.”

Shaking his head, he resumed the dance. Curious onlookers seemed to hang on to our every word, reading our lips. I wouldn't have been surprised if they'd cast some spells to hear what we were saying too.

This was very far from the status quo. It was a thousand miles away from what anyone would have expected.

Lucian Regis and Kleos Valesco? The sole fact that we exchanged pleasantries and seemed on good terms in public would have wasted a fair amount of ink if the vale papers had caught wind of it.

Dancing at one of the galas was positively scandalous.

And if they knew I'd stayed at the manor all week? We would have caused heart attacks.

I cleared my throat. "I have an interview Tuesday. Gideon and I thought we should tell the world to carry salt, to be careful."

He dipped his head. "Good. I'm glad someone's warning the valers. It might deprive the culprit from easy victims."

"It would. Except now they'll ask me a million questions about you instead," I told him.

I was half chastising him, but my notable amusement failed to get that point across.

"You valers make a huge fuss over nothing," he said, just as the second melody died, melding into the start of a third.

And he still wasn't letting me go.

This would make our third dance—or two and a half, considering he only claimed the second half of the first waltz.

One might have been innocuous.

Three was a statement.

He rotated me slowly, and off we went again.

"Are you saying that if I danced with you in the underside, three times in a row, none of your folk would raise an eyebrow?"

"Oh, Kleos. You truly are adorable." His mouth dipped to my earlobe. "I could fuck you in the middle of the dance floor at an unders party and no one would care."

That wasn't fair . He couldn't say things like that. He couldn't speak so low and close enough for me to feel his breath on my skin. He couldn't touch me while speaking of fucking me.

"Kleos," he repeated, his tone quite different now.

I made myself lift my gaze to his, my heart still racing in my chest. "What?"

Only he wasn't looking at my face at all. And unlike Castor, he truly was staring at my necklace rather than my tits.

I understood why in one single glance.

Every stone was pitch black.