Page 143 of The Wolf King

“Do you know the Dance of the Dawn?” he asks.

“Of course.”

“This music follows the same rhythm.”

He pulls me closer, and I place a hand on his shoulder. “You wish to perform a Southlands dance in a hall full of northerners?”

“We are both Southlanders, are we not?”

“Is that the game? You wish to antagonize everyone here?”

“Let’s play and find out, shall we?”

I incline my head. “Very well.”

I step back and he releases me.

I curtsy and he bows, as is tradition, and then we dance.

We step forward, raising our hands, palms almost touching, as we circle one another. We change direction—our gazes locked, our steps careful. Graceful. Wary. Blake’s eyes track my every movement as though he is a predator, hunting his prey.

I think that people are watching us, but it would be unwise to look away from the wolf before me.

As the dance progresses, it requires closer contact. Blake’s hand curls around mine once more, his other flattening on the small of my back as he spins us around. My hand rests gently on his shoulder, and I fight the urge to sink my fingers into the hard muscle as he moves us faster and faster.

His steps are graceful, his poise strong and confident. He is a good dancer. Too good.

“You said you were part of the King’s Guard,” I say.

“I did.”

“I did not know that members of the King’s Guard had cause to learn to dance.” I lift an eyebrow. “Certainly not this well.”

He smirks as we continue our dance around the edge of the dancefloor. “You think I dance well? I should be flattered by such a compliment coming from the princess herself.”

“Ithinkyou’re a liar. You were not part of the King’s Guard, were you? You’re a man of noble birth. There is no other explanation for why you can dance.”

He spins me under his arm, and I inhale sharply as he pulls me back again. “Interesting theory, little rabbit. I assure you, Iwasin the King’s Guard, I amnota man of noble birth, and thereisanother explanation.”

“I do not trust you.”

“Nor should you.”

“Tell me the explanation.”

“I already have. In a way.”

“Stop speaking in riddles. Tell me what I want to know.” I raise my chin. “Or I will tell everyone your secret.” I smile sweetly. “I think there may be a storm coming.”

I expect him to blanch, for his shoulder to tense beneath my fingers. Instead he smiles, pulling me closer.

“Go ahead,” he whispers. “My account of what you were doing in my chambers late at night will be quite different to yours, I assure you.” His tone is as dark and seductive as the night sky.

The heat drains from my body as we continue to circle the dancefloor. My pulse pounds so hard in my ears that it almost drowns out the sound that has chilled me to my core. I’m still dancing, but my movements no longer feel like my own. Everything blurs. It is Blake who is leading me, like a puppet master, commanding his toy.

The music has reached its crescendo, and the reason why it seemed familiar to me is now clear. I recognize this part of the song.

It is the same melody my mother used to sing to me at night.

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