Page 39 of In the Ravenous Dark
“Obviously,” Kineas mutters. “You’re still strangling my hand.”
“You’re not focusing on me,” my guardian says.
“Because all I see is him,” I grind out.
“Stop looking at him,” both the crown prince and the dead man say in unison. It could be funny, under other circumstances. “Look atme,” the shade emphasizes, while Kineas adds, “I should be novel enough for you.”
Perhaps it’s because Kineas’s words are the most infuriating that my eyes lock onto his—clear, silvery, and entirely cold. I want to do more than scream. I want toburn.
Kineas appears mildly alarmed by my expression, but the dead man’s head cocks to one side. His eyes can certainly be cold, too, but there’s calculation in them.
It’s then I realize the shade looks more alive than the crown prince. The dead man is, well,dead, and Kineas very much breathing—too much. But my guardian has more feeling in him, despite all expectations. He looks especially alive now.
“I’m going to try something,” he says, and then he sidesteps…intoKineas, taking up the crown prince’s exact position, except a hair’s breadth closer to me. He covers over Kineas entirely, dark curls and eyes masking the pewter and silver I hate. My guardian’s pale left hand looks as if I’m holding it, and his right hovers just over my waist. His face is only inches from mine.
And then I’m dancing with the shade and not the crown prince, moving through the crowd with a black-clad, unearthly figure as if he were flesh and blood.
The dead man’s lips twitch at my sudden amazement, a slight slyness touching his flawless face. “Is this better?”
At least I want to kill him slightly less than Kineas. I can almost,almostfeel him through the pressure of Kineas’s hands on my body, and it’s a surprising relief. I study the details of him. He looks like a king again: a silver circlet on his brow, a long robe of black velvet and silver embroidery belted at the waist with his usual, starkly elegant swords, and a ruff of black fur around his strong, graceful neck.
“This is better,” I say, and the shade’s expression shifts into something with fewer edges.
I don’t get to wonder at that for long, because the crown prince answers, his voice coming disconcertingly from right behind the dead man’s face, “I would imagine so. You haven’t experienced much like this.”Much like me, he means.
“Keep talking,” I say hurriedly.
Kineas sighs. “I’m not here for your amusement. That’syourrole to play forme.” A suggestive leer comes into his tone that I blessedly can’t see. But it’s still enough to make my blood boil.
“It’s nice to be able to talk face-to-face,” the dead man starts somewhat hesitantly, as if he doesn’t know where to begin, “without you throwing things at me.”
“I’m only cooperating because your face is preferable, at the moment,” I say. “That could change quickly.”
“I don’t care about your preferences in the slightest,” the crown prince says. “And if you insist on misbehaving, I’ll be happy to train those feral tendencies out of you.”
“Wow, lucky me.” I stare hard at the dead man. “Who could have guessed someone in my position would end up here?”
“A true oracle couldn’t have predicted it,” Kineas mutters behind the shade’s somber expression.
“I hadn’t known it would come to this,” the dead man says, “you and the crown prince, betrothed. I would have warned you, which was perhaps why I wasn’t told.” He seems disquieted by the thought. “But it doesn’t have to be the worst of fates.”
“Oh?” My voice comes out high and brittle.
Fortunately, Kineas ignores me. And the shade realizes it’s wise to change the subject, though he pantomimes spinning me in a circle before he does.
“I haven’t danced in a very long time,” he says quietly, “though it’s nice to know I still can. I can’t feel your body, of course, but it’s easy enough to anticipate how you’ll move.” His dark eyes dart over me. “I’ve spent lifetimes studying exactly that in order to counter an attack.”
To counter an attack against his ward or to defend someonefromhis ward, I wonder?
Perhaps the dead man realizes he’s moved us back into dangerous territory, because he adds, “I don’t mind doing this. I’ll keep doing it, if need be. To make it easier.”
“Will you do this even when we’re in bed?”
“I’ll do whatever I want.” Kineas’s voice is like a splash of cold water on my face. I can’t help shuddering.
“I can’t imagine my face would be more welcome to you in that situation,” the dead man says, and then pauses. “But I’ll do anything to keep you from burning down the palace. Anythingyouwant.”
His vow is in direct contrast to Kineas’s.
