Page 38 of In the Ravenous Dark
Japha is at my side, whispering urgently in my ear—I didn’t know, I promise I didn’t know—and Lydea says something else to me, squeezing my hand, but her voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater. I hear what the king proclaims next, though, his iron gaze still locked on mine:
“And now to celebrate, the newly betrothed couples will dance. Japha and Helena, Alldan and Lydea, Kineas and Rovan, please take to the center of the room. Others may join in at a respectful distance.”
And then Kineas stands before me. The prince has extended his hand to me. What’s more, he looks to have been holding it there for at least a few seconds, long enough for impatient fury to ripple across his face. He smiles to hide it.
“Are you simple, or is your common upbringing rearing its ugly head?” he mutters under his breath. “Take my hand and assume your position, idiot.”
Numbly, I rest my palm in his. And then I’m dancing with Kineas. Crown prince.
Mybetrothed.
I vaguely think I might vomit down the front of his midnight blue himation. Its golden embroidery matches the gold laurel wreath glittering in his pewter hair. He looks every inch a royal, and I despise every inch of him.
I come back to myself in a sudden, horrible crash, like a wave smashing me against a rock. I’m here, in this ballroom. This is happening. My hand is in Kineas’s, his other touches my hip, and I’m following his lead. I still remember how Lydea felt in his stead.
So different. Sogood. And now this.
I can’t stand it.
“I had no idea my father would do this,” Kineas says through the bared teeth of his fake smile. “Though I suppose with Helena turning out to be a failure of good breeding, your bloodline makes you a logical replacement, if the rest of you is entirely unworthy. Imagine my disappointment.”
“Oh, I can,” I breathe.Just breathe. Don’t speak.
His smile drops, fury replacing it again. “I’m sure you’redelighted.You’re an ignorant peasant, and now you will be queen.” He smirks. “If you live long enough.”
“Your mother certainly didn’t,” I say, before I can help myself.
The look he turns on me before he stares out over my head in polite disregard is one of pure, blackest hatred.
We dance in silence for a few more seconds, but those seconds may as well be years. I try to ignore him, focusing over his shoulder, but all I can think is:This is my life now.It’s all I can do to not tear away from him. To tear out of my veryskin.
“I can’t… I can’t stand to look at him,” I nearly gasp, when I can’t bear it any longer.
Since I’m trying to stare beyond him, Kineas misreads my meaning. “Your guardian?” he asks, at the same time the dead man says, suddenly standing at my side, “The crown prince?”
Of course Kineas can’t hear the shade. I give a short nod, which Kineas assumes is for him, though I meet the dead man’s black eyes as I do. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I have to look at him for much longer.”
I mean that for my guardian, as well, but Kineas says, “That must be a bother.”
The dead man’s eyes widen ever so slightly. “You’re in a highly public place, and you need to maintain appearances. Whatever you do, stay calm.”
“Telling me thatdoesn’t help,” I say through gritted teeth. My hand tightens on Kineas’s enough to make him glare at me.
“I don’t care if it helps,” he says. “I don’t care about you at all, as long as you stop crushing my hand like a barbarian.”
I don’t respond, but the look in my eyes, which Kineas doesn’t deign to notice, must be enough for the dead man. He vanishes and reappears right over Kineas’s shoulder.
“Focus on me. I’m right here, and you hate me more than you hate him, yes? Concentrate on that.” His tone is still calm, but rushed, like the surface of a deep, fast-flowing river. There’s a lot of weight,warning, in those words.
“I’ll try,” I say, and the answer works for both of them.
“Try harder,” Kineas snarls, without even meeting my eyes. He’s more attentive to everyone watching us, keeping his face smooth for the crowd.
“What does it matter if I slip up?” I whisper.
“You’ll embarrass yourself,” he says, at the same moment the dead man says, “Think of your mother.”
Thinking of my mother makes me want to scream. “This isn’t working.”
