Page 80 of A Bargain with the Fae King

I paste a tight smile on my face as I turn back to Sigurd and notch my chin just a bit higher.

“Sigurd.” I take his hand with a small bob of my head.

His eyes widen for the briefest moment.

I don’t cringe as his hand comes to rest on my hip, nor do I flinch when he draws me close. My own hand rests on his shoulder like we’re two kids at a middle school dance.

Leave room for Jesus, Dad had said back then.

This might be the first time I’ve actually tried to apply that saying.

A new melody carries into the night, and Sigurd pulls us into the crowd of dancers. It should be hard to dance with him, but it’s not. His lead is as easy to follow as Riven’s, even with his intense gaze studying my every breath.

If I hadn’t heard stories of his past, I might actually find him charming. He’s handsome enough, dare I say, sexy. The kind of guy I’d totally have tried to flirt with if I met him in a bar somewhere. His appearance is disarming. It’s likely meant to be.

But I know what’s he’s done. Beneath his fair façade is a cunning, fierce, and possibly two-faced king who has led his people since before my father was born.

“You’re not what you pretend to be.” The words are quiet, just audible above the music.

It takes a moment to register he’s spoken.

“What do you mean?” I stare at him.

“You’re pretending to be a simple, lovesick human. That’s not you though. You’re too clever, too fiery, determined. And something else… Uncertain? Fearful? You don’t fully trust your Forest King.” He spins me in a circle before tugging me closer, far closer than I’d like. “I saw it in the woods, I saw it this morning, and I can see it in your eyes now. You may fool much of the court, but someone completely devoted to him wouldn’t stare me down so boldly.”

Now I do look away. Away from his eyes that see too much. Away from his grin that says he knows he’s right.

The music continues to play.

We dance, but each step, each breath, is a challenge as I fight against the fear taking hold.

“I’ve been thinking about your bargain and your little sister,” he continues.

Pain lances through my chest like a sharp, pointy dagger. She’s still out there, with the Unseelie, and yet here I am, dancing at a ball.

My steps falter. I stare at the floor, hiding tears that threaten to fall.

It’s too much. In minutes, he’s broken down my walls and brought out all the worry I’ve tried to so hard block out.

Sigurd brings us to a stop. Other couples flow around us as if we’re a rock in a stream.

I blink away the tears and hazard a glance at my companion. His countenance is serious, assessing. Instead of resuming the dance, he takes my hand and leads through the throng of fae.

They don’t dare stop us.

Maybe they would if I asked, a favor for their lady, but my throat’s so tight I can’t manage anything. On the far edge of the dance floor, the music doesn’t beg me to dance the way it did only moments ago.

“One might think a generous king would have offered to save her regardless of your choices.” Sigurd glances back at the crowd and then me.

This dagger, too, finds my heart, slicing deep.

“What if I were to be the one to find and return your sister?” His fingers curl around a loose tendril of hair near my face. One manicured nail grazes my cheek, and I shudder. “What would you offer me?”

I pull away, adding much needed space between him and my pounding heart.

“I have nothing left to give,” I say. Riven already has my time, my promise, and though I try to deny it, a piece of my heart.

“We’ll see.” Sigurd’s response sends goosebumps rising along my bare arms.

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