Page 105 of A Crown of Deceit & Ruin

“Well don’t look so shocked,” Elora snapped, chin pointing high. The longer the girl watched her, the more difficult it was becoming to convince herself her reasonings had been innocent. She gestured to Kestrel’s clothes in an attempt to keepthings nonchalant. “I mean, you are wearing boy’s clothes, so it should be easy to pretend.”

But Elora’s words came out sharper than intended, that tongue of hers always more of a blade than a caress. It was far from the compliment Kestrel deserved. She softened her tone and tried again.

“You do look rather…dashing in them, though.”

It was a swing too far in the opposite direction. Too vulnerable. Too…honest. It made her feel as if she were caught in a blaze, worsened only by the radiant smile Kestrel flashed her in response.

“Why thank you, my lady. And you look rather…” she thought for a long moment, seeming to struggle to find anything nice to say. It hurt more than Elora expected. Until the lost princess leaned in closer and whispered, “What would be a proper way to compliment the future Queen of Irongate?”

Elora battled her blushing and lost. “You could call me ravishing.”

Kestrel bowed at the waist. “In that case, you look positively ravishing. Now, may I have this dance?”

Elora’s heart trilled at the sight of Kestrel’s offered hand. It should be such a mundane gesture, two hands meeting. It was the sort of motion even strangers went through on a daily basis whenever they greeted one another.

But for Elora, there was a lifetime of hurt and pain behind the simple act.

And now, here Kestrel was, threatening to unravel it. To wash it away like the gentle tide lapping upon the shore.

Everything inside her felt like it was shattering. But Elora kept her tone as sour as she could muster. “Yes, yes, let’s get this over with.” It was her only defense against a girl who seemed so keen on breaking all of her walls down.

Bounding across the room as spry as a spring chicken,Kestrel set her candlestick in an empty sconce, dusted what Elora suspected was crumbs from lunch onto her trousers, and returned to Elora in the center of the ballroom. Elora watched her the entire time, admiring the way the new bluish-grey doublet hugged Kestrel’s frame, and the slight curve the trousers gave to her hips. It was more of a subtle femininity compared to the lavish gowns she was accustomed to seeing royalty wear, herself included, but it suited Kestrel nicely. Made her look like the distinctive and daring woman that she really was.

When Kestrel was barely more than a few steps away from her, she stopped. “So, how do I do it?”

Elora frowned. “What do you mean how do you do it? Have you never danced before?”

“Of course I have!” Kestrel spluttered and fidgeted on her toes. “I just—every dance is different. There are different customs and all that. Right?”

Rolling her eyes at the semi-valid point, Elora pointed to one side of her hip.

Kestrel’s eyes followed and she swallowed hard before her hand closed around Elora’s waist. Even through the fabric of the gown, Elora felt Kestrel’s warmth. It pulsed across her hip and abdomen, threatening to bloom elsewhere as well.

Elora cleared her throat and fixed her attention on the next step. She placed one hand on Kestrel’s shoulder and held the other one up in a readied position. Kestrel raised her hand, but stopped again.

“You sure it’s okay? I wouldn’t want to break the no-touching rule and all that?—”

“Oh shut up and take my hand.”

Laughing to herself, Kestrel obliged, cupping Elora’s hand into her own as if they had done this athousand times. It fit there better than it fit in the gloves she was wearing. Like Kestrel’s hand was the perfect contour of her own. The Sky-Blessed or whoever designed them would be cruel for that, considering no matter how Elora felt for her, they would never be able to touch skin-to-skin, not without grave consequences.

But oh, how Elora wouldn’t be daydreaming about it for days to come…wondering what Kestrel’s touch might feel like. Whether it would be velvety smooth or ruggedly tough. Something told her it was the latter, and the thought of those rough hands against hers made her stomach dip.

Elora shook the thought from her mind.

She couldn’t afford such frivolous fantasies.

She was getting married.

She refocused her attention on the dance and began humming a common, upbeat tune she’d heard at a few weddings prior to her imprisonment. A dance that would start as just the two of them, the bride and groom, before others would be invited to join in. A crowd of couples would circle around them, mimicking the same one-two-three rhythmic steps, only at the top of the third count, they would swap partners, while the bride and groom would remain together for the duration of the song.

But as soon as Elora and Kestrel began the dance, the other princess was already stumbling over herself. At first Elora thought maybe it was just her own gown, the bulbous material making it difficult for Kestrel to maneuver with, considering she likely hadn’t danced with anyone in such a garment before.

But then Elora realized Kestrel was tripping over her own feet as much as she was Elora’s skirt.

“Ow,” the Ashen princess grumbled when Kestrel somehow managed to step on her toe through the thick layers of fabric. “You’re terrible at this.”

Kestrel’s smile was crooked, uncertain. “I said I’d help, I never said I was any good.”

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