Page 16 of Legacy of Glass
Comprehension broke over Olivia. He wasn’t talking about the ball at all.
“Oh,” she said, aware she sounded as socially inept as he seemed to be. She tried again. “It’s a dangerous spot for those unfamiliar with the area. I’m just glad you weren’t hurt.”
The prince’s face tightened even further at her response, and his voice grew rougher.
“I’m afraid I did not appear to best advantage during any part of the encounter, and I can only hope you will forget it completely and allow us to begin fresh.” He inclined his head in her direction, the movement as close to a bow as their positions would allow.
Olivia gasped softly. Was she in a dream? Was that why everything was so strange? Surely the crown prince of Sovar couldn’t be bowing to her, Olivia of Henton. It somehow seemed even more outlandish than him dancing with her.
“I hope you will forgive me and believe that I’m not usually so poor-mannered,” he continued when she didn’t speak.
He met her eyes, though it was clearly a strain, and her heart softened. An arrogant prince was hardly a surprise, but one with the humility to apologize—especially to someone as insignificant as her—was unexpected.
“Of course I forgive you,” she said with a warm smile. “Your lack of gratitude was a little startling, but I should have considered the effects of shock. No harm was done to either of us, so I see no reason why we shouldn’t put the matter behind us.”
The prince relaxed immediately, his whole bearing changing. When he smiled down at her, she felt the earlier flutters thrill through her. She was far more comfortable in his arms now she knew why he had asked her to dance—he must have recognized her and had wanted to apologize and offer belated thanks.
The music wound down, and their movements slowed. Despite her initial trepidation, Olivia felt disappointed that the whirlwind experience was coming to an end.
But the musicians launched immediately into another melody, and the prince’s arms never loosened around Olivia. Seamlessly, his steps shifted, moving into a new rhythm that was close enough to the old for her to effortlessly follow.
Her mood soured. Prince Julius hadn’t even bothered to ask if she wanted to dance again. Did he think her grateful acceptance was so certain? Was she supposed to be flattered because he was the prince?
Slowly his speed increased, until they were spinning around the ballroom fast enough to make Olivia dizzy. The lightness that had come over the prince after her acceptance of his apology whirled away with the movements of the dance. She could feel the muscles of his arms tightening and jumping.
“Who are you?” He fired the words at her.
She nearly stumbled. “I’m Olivia.” It seemed an incomplete answer, but she wasn’t sure what else to say.
“Olivia,” he repeated, his deep voice making her name sound rich and full. But his brows furrowed as he said it, and he was still pulling them through the dance so quickly she could barely keep up.
Anger and defiance sparked inside her. She planted her feet and pulled them both to an abrupt stop. They stood, surrounded by swirling couples, still clasped close together, their chests heaving with the recent exertion of the dance.
“But who are you?” The quiet words exploded out of Julius, despite their low volume. “Who are your family?” She could both hear and feel his frustration.
Olivia hesitated. Her parents’ names would be meaningless to the crown prince.
“I…I live on Manor Row,” she said, feeling the need to say something, but unsure if she might be causing trouble for her aunt and uncle if she named them.
Julius’s brows drew together. “Yes, I saw you there. But I can’t understand your appearing here. Of course I’ve wondered who would show up at the ball—I’ve imagined all sorts of possibilities. But I never considered the possibility of a stranger. Why would I? I know every family of the court—I’ve even met the other royal families, although they were unlikely choices. It doesn’t make any sense.”
The prince was the one not making sense. Would it violate royal protocol for Olivia to say that aloud?
She decided she didn’t care.
“What are you talking about?” She tried to wrench herself out of his arms, but they had become bands of steel around her.
“Not here,” he hissed through his teeth, his eyes widening. “That isn’t how this is supposed to go.”
Panic surged inside Olivia, reaching for her throat. Had she strayed into a fever dream?
Just as her self-control was about to snap, the prince released her. She stumbled back half a step, still staring at him with widened eyes.
He put on a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and offered her his arm. “It is tiring work,” he said at a much louder volume than their previous whispered exchange. “And the room is hot. Allow me to escort you to the refreshments.”
Olivia wanted to turn and run, but his words had clearly been aimed at their audience. Her momentary panic subsided as she realized he had been restraining her for the sake of the watching eyes. She was even a little grateful that he had prevented her from becoming the girl who made a scene in the middle of the Midsummer Ball.
But that didn’t mean she appreciated his high-handed manner. Everything in her wanted to turn on her heel and storm off. But the tight expression around his eyes reminded her that it would be better for both of them if they waited to part ways somewhere less conspicuous.
