Page 122 of To Touch A Silent Fury
“You caught me. I am a fair dancer. Fairer than you.” Then, he studied the room just as Seth had done minutes ago. “There are other reasons we should not be seen dancing.”
“Your family?”
“You do not understand the half of it,” he replied, his eyes darkening.
“Maybe I should like to.”
We stared at each other, the prince and I. His hand twitched, and I looked at it, thinking again how much easier it would be to understand him if I could only touch him. And yet, I was worried about how my own emotions might unravel if he were to touch me now. Already, my skin was tight, my body aflame.
I met his eyes again and found them trained on the beads hiding my mouth.
Caught, he cleared his throat and looked away, back to the hall’s doors. “What did you speak to Princess Margot of?”
“Little,” I said, drifting my hand to my throat.
He smirked, but the humour was lost under our mutual distraction. “Why do I get the impression you are lying to me?”
“We spoke of her interests.”
“I see,” he replied, still watching the night outside the room. “What did you make of them?”
I couldn’t help the smile from spreading across my cheek. “I told her how fascinatingly refreshing you would surely find it. To speak with someone so like-minded.”
“Like-minded.” He returned his red eyes to me. “And why would you encourage her to her detriment?”
I dipped my head. “I would not claim to do so. I am no lady, and untrained in the ways of court. I surely misspoke if I deterred you from her.”
He let out an exasperated noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “And yet, for a woman free of title, you have caught the interest of a prince.”
I froze. Good, so he had heard the rumours already. Seth had played his part well. “You refer to Prince Eamallan?”
“Is it true he has made you an offer?” he asked, plainly.
“It would not be my place to say.”
Something flashed in his gaze, and his hand shook at his side once more. “You should know this, Vorska. My family will not let you marry outside of the Sightlands.”
I did not hide from the intensity in his eyes. “Then who would you recommend in his place?”
Langnathin stiffened, standing as still as the Domin trees of Gossamir. Then he turned away from me with a growl. I could only stare.
He had said he would not dance with me, but this was as much a dance as any. We skirted around words, implications and desires. It was easier to flirt with him, I told myself, when he was as agreeable and attractive as he was on this night. When I allowed the wine to dull me from his crimes against me.
I was playing the part I had to play, to show my interest. It was onlyconvenientthat my want for him, however misguided, was not entirely performative. I hated that I wanted him, but it helped my desperate cause.
Why he wanted me back, though, I could not say. Was it his belief in my otherness, my wildness, that captivated him? Or the fact he was not supposed to have me? Some escape from the women he was entitled to? Maybe it was animalistic, as mine had to be, a need from one body to another.
I thought he might leave, then. That he might walk off and find some lesser challenge.
But he turned. “Were you about to leave the ball?”
“Yes,” I said honestly. “I am missing him.”
“Stay,” he whispered. My heart leapt with it. His eyes had never reminded me more of fire than at that moment, when he dragged them over me like embers.
“Why?” I replied, just as quietly. In turn, I dragged my eyes from his eyes to his polished black shoes and back up again. “You will not dance with me.”
The Dragon Prince swallowed. “I still don’t want you to leave. Though, if you choose to, I understand.”
