Page 42 of Captive of the Stolen Empire

I slumped against the bench as Gabriel rose, heading off somewhere. He’d be back.

The song concluded. No sooner had the dancers halted their steps and bowed to their partners than the musicians struck up another one. A few dancers left, some changed partners, and others like Elin seemed quite content to stick to their current arrangement.

“May I have this next dance, miss?”

Only after he’d spoken did I realize the words were directed at me. I turned, prepared to reject whatever brave man had gathered the courage to ask me, but the words died in my throat.

Chapter20

Ilya

Lucien stood before me, only not. It was the face I’d come to know behind the mask, the typical mischievous twinkle in his eyes, and he stood at the right height. But this man wore no armor, nor did he dress as a guard or anyone of standing. His outfit—a long-sleeved, green tunic with tan pants, worn boots, and few decorative accents—marked him for a poor merchant at best, a resident of the city out to enjoy the festival.

Hastily, I glanced around, but no one looked our way. They didn’t know who stood before me with one, strong arm outstretched.

“Do I have something on my face?” he asked, his lips pulling up in a grin as he cocked his head to the side.

Either the God of Darkness cast an illusion this evening, one the bangle did not protect me from, or Lucien played a game I could only guess at.

My heart raced as I stared into his grey eyes. “You may.” I placed my shaking hand in his, allowing him to help me to my feet.

“Why are you—”

“Shh,” he whispered as he led me to join the dancers near the fire. “Am I not allowed to enjoy the festival as well?” His palm slid around my waist as he pulled us in step with the people around us.

“But like this?” My eyes raked his form as we moved. His shabby clothing had no chance of hiding the well-toned arms that caged me in. Dark locks brushed his ears. The scar sliding down one cheek added a delicious edge of danger to his handsome face.

He grinned. “It wouldn’t be so much fun otherwise.”

I tripped up my steps and nearly fell into his arms. “I’m a terrible dancer,” I mumbled as I pushed against his chest—a muscular, firm chest that made my throat turn dry.

A deep laugh rumbled into the air between us. “Just relax, follow my lead.”

Easier said than done.

My body finally learned the rhythm of the song as it came to an end. Blessedly, the next tune the musicians started was slower, easier to follow. Lucien took advantage of the rhythm and tugged me closer until our bodies were nearly pressed together, an island unto ourselves amid the crowd.

Standing close to him, pretending to be normal people, made it hard to grasp reality. My head swam just trying to process it. No one seemed to know who I danced with. We might as well have been invisible.

“What are you thinking of?” Lucien’s voice rolled across me like a soothing wave.

“You,” I answered honestly. “And this.” I tilted my head around to indicate the dancers. “Can they see what I do?” I wore his bangle, immune to his magic. But could the others see him at all? Or me in his arms? It would explain why no one noticed, not even the guards.

His lips nearly grazed the shell of my ear as he leaned in and whispered, “You think I’m enchanting them? Should we test it?”

The touch of his bare fingers against the skin of my upper arm sent my heart racing faster as he stretched the bangle wide, sliding it down my arm and off into his hand while we moved.

Nothing changed. No one looked nor commented. We were just two people in an ocean of others. His grin widened as he took in my expression and replaced the bangle. But his hand didn’t move once he’d finished. Instead, he leaned in until my arm lay against his chest. Another cradled his neck. Dark hair teased my skin.

“Still have your doubts?”

“No.” But if Lucien, for all his fearsome reputation, could wander the crowd unnoticed, who else lingered here unbeknown to the rest of us? “Why are you doing this?”

“To keep an eye on you? Because I want to?”

I sighed—likely the former.

“You want to dance? With me?”

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