Page 74 of Fear the Flames
“Wise choice.” Cayden pats Eagor’s cheek before retracting his hands and turning toward me, extending an arm in my direction. I loop mine through his and slip from the room after Valia and Eagor. The ball goes on as if Cayden didn’t just exert power over his king. The adrenalin in my body depletes, and my mind fills with several questions I want to ask. I pull him over to an unoccupied drink table while the tune of another dance drifts our way, taking myself out of his hold and standing in front of him once we’re alone.
“Before you reprimand me, I think you should take into consideration that I waited untilafterthe alliance papers were signed,” Cayden reasons. His stance tells me he’s expecting an argument.
“Cayden—”
“I won’t just ignore your discomfort,” he cuts me off.
“Cayden!” My hands latch onto his biceps, and I resist the urge to shake him. The laughter that rises in me is overpowering. It vibrates through my body and doesn’t stop, especially when his deranged state melts into pure confusion as he looks down at me. I shove his body in front of mine so the rest of the ball can’t watch me delve into hysterics.
“Can you please explain why you’re laughing about me almost choking Eagor?” His confusion is still there, but it’s accompanied by a softness that I haven’t seen the entire night.
“You thought I was going to yell at you?” I calm myself enough to get the words out. “I was going to ask about how you saved him from a revolution.”
“I didn’t overstep?” he cautiously inquires.
“No, you did the thing I wanted to do on the dancefloor,” I answer.
The softness turns sharp again, “Tell me what he said.”
“Cayden, stop. I don’t want to run the risk of you polishing the floor with his blood in front of everyone.”
“It was that bad?” He reels toward the dancefloor, but I wedge my body between him and his path, curling my hands into his lapels—the lapels detailed with green and gold. The things Eagor said woulddefinitelypush Cayden over the edge if my body language alone was enough for him to shove Eagor into a wall.
“I held back on Valia for you. Hold back on Eagor for me.” He drags his malice-filled eyes away from the dancefloor and looks at me in a way that makes my body tingle. “Please, I don’t want any spectacles. If Garrick has spies here, then I want them to believe I’m in a secure position.” I want him to hear my name, hear how well I’m doing, and sweat. Something resigns in Cayden’s eyes, and he slowly nods his head, giving up on his anger for now.
“You are in a secure position; I’m your ally.” He trails his fingers down my arms, resting his hands on my waist.
I uncurl my hands from his lapels when I know he won’t make a run for it and smooth my hands over the fabric. “I know, you’re officially shackled to me for the foreseeable future.”
“You already had me.” Something in his tone makes me pause and look up from his lapels. His face has inched closer to mine, but neither of us make any moves to get closer than this. He seems content to just stay there, looking at me.
A new voice comes from my left, “Queen Elowen, I was wondering if you would do me the honor of the next dance?” I remove my hands from Cayden and turn toward the voice, but his hands stay locked on my waist from behind. The voice belongs to a man with shoulder-length auburn hair, green eyes, and tanned skin. He’s handsome, but I don’t feel like having a repeat of what happened with Eagor.
“Queen Elowen’s dance card is full, and she has promised her next dance to me,” Cayden states, stepping around me and extending his arm in my direction. I blink slowly before regaining my senses. Maybe he’ll just escort me back to the table, although that’s probably a bad idea considering Eagor and Valia will make it back there at some point.
“Yes, my sincerest apologies.” I smile at the man and glide away with Cayden, but he stays on track to the dance floor.
“You told me you don’t dance,” I say, curtsying to him when a note signals for me to do so.
“I had a change of heart,” he replies, bowing when a note instructs him to do so.
A third note plays, and we move into the proper position, the same one Eagor and I took. But it’s different this time. Instead of my body demanding me to put more space between myself and my partner, it’s demanding me to lessen the gap. Butterflies swarm in my stomach, and goosebumps dance along my skin. When he looks into my eyes, it feels like we’re the only two people here.
“You have one of those?” I gasp, waiting for the music to begin.
The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Don’t tell anyone. They won’t believe you.”
People are staring at us. Is it really so rare for Cayden to dance that it draws the attention of the entire room? Even Saskia and Ryder looked shocked, much smugger than the rest of the ballroom, but there’s a smidgen of surprise.
Cayden must note my rising anxiety due to the attention we’ve drawn because he removes his hand from my back to tilt my face back to his, away from the crowd. “You keep those pretty eyes on me. It’s just you and me, angel,” he whispers into the small space between us, placing his hand on my back again.
The first note is played, and Cayden whisks me into the fray of tulle and measured steps. He leads me as he leads his army, definitive and steadfast. It’s the kind of measured grace that emanates from someone that studies steps rather than lets their body flow. Cayden isn’t the type of person to flow; he’s the type of person to command the tide. He spins me under his arm and twirls me, pressing my back into his chest while we continue to follow the steps.
His breath fans against my collarbone, and I lean my head back, resting it against his shoulder. We’re closer than the other couples, closer than what’s deemed appropriate, but trying to pull myself away would be like trying to uproot a tree. He glides our intertwined hands across my stomach, and his lips grace the shell of my ear. His fingers tighten around my hand when he feels me shudder against him. We’re both teetering on the edge of a dangerous fall, and sometimes I wish a small breeze would push me over and make me forget about everything else, kind of like the night we kissed.
I keep trying to force myself to believe it’ll never happen again, but it’s so damn hard when his hands feel like they were made to run against my body. He spins me again, and my gaze glances toward his lips before meeting his eyes, which are now almost black. I like the way he challenges me and pushes me but knows when and how to relent. He never makes me feel like I’m weak or something that needs to be coddled.
“Tell me about what you said in there.” I jerk my chin toward the doors we came out of. The music is loud enough that nobody else around us will be able to hear.
