Page 61 of Powerless

A maddening dimple peeks out at me, barely visible in the dim light. “So, what have we learned today?” he asks, annoyingly amused as ever. “One, daggers are not needed for dancing, and two, you actually have to be close to your partner during the dance. And shockingly, you seem to be struggling more with the latter.”

“Would you rather I struggle with the first and put a dagger to your throat?” I pause. “Again.”

“So very predictable.” he chuckles, the sound washing over me before he mutters, “Always so vicious and eager to stab me.”

He is very close to me. Too close to me.

And it’s because I’m so distracted by that fact that my foot lands on top of his, and I stumble forward to collide with his solid frame. Both of his hands wrap around my waist, steadying me before I regain my senses and push away from him. A deep laugh rumbles from his chest, paired with a genuine smile, one that I’ve only ever seen him wear around his brother.

Lethal.

“How can a fighter have such poor footwork?” His eyes dance between mine. “You are just full of surprises.”

“Well,surprise, I’m done with this lesson,” I say flatly, turning out of his grasp. My back is to him when he snatches my wrist and whips me around, pulling me back.

“But you still owe me one more dance.” His wavy hair tumbles over his brow, the look in his eyes practically begging me to play with him.

“Fine,” I say, playing along. “Another dance for the answer to a question.”

His eyebrows raise. “Is that a bribe, Gray?”

“Those are my terms. Take it or leave it, prince.” His only response is a low chuckle. He turns his head away from me, thinking before he finally meets my gaze.

Slowly, he raises my hand back into the air and rests his other hand comfortably onto the small of my back once again. “Deal.”

Another slow waltz begins, occupying me with the music and steps, drowning me in the dance. When I can’t seem to ignore the feel of his eyes watching me so intently, I finally meet his gaze.

“Alright, what is it you’re dying to know?” Kai asks, leading me through the dance.

I have no idea.

He looks at me, through me, waiting for an answer. His gray eyes are like chips of ice, shards of glass. Like both, his gaze is pointed and piercing. Cold yet captivating. Beautiful in the way only deadly things can be.

And just like that, I suddenly can’t think of a single thing I want to ask him. I rack my brain for a question only to blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Do you wish it was you?” He blinks, dark lashes fluttering. “Do you wish you were the future king of Ilya? The heir?”

It’s not at all the question I thought I would be asking, but here we are.

“No,” he says simply, holding my gaze.

I raise my brows in a silent question. When he doesn’t continue, I say, “That’s it? ‘No’?”

“You got your answer, and I got my dance. That was the deal, darling.”

* * *

I can barely breathe.

Adena’s thin arms are wrapped so tightly around my neck that I’m beginning to see spots. She screamed and squealed when she spotted me waiting by the Fort.

My best friend. My literal partner in crime. Safe and sound. Beautiful and bubbly as ever.

Lenny arrived at my room early this morning, ready to take me into Loot and retrieve my new seamstress. Apparently, he had gotten approval to do so, though I was too excited to bother asking for details. I may have even squealed myself.

“I’m going to be yourwhat?!” Adena squeaks.

I sigh, though it comes out sounding more like a laugh. “My personal seamstress.” I’ve filled her in on the details about three times now. “I mean, unless you don’t want the job...”

---