AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Fleur offers him her hand. “Like this. Never a fist or straight locked-out hand. Your fingers relaxed, elegantly falling, but not hanging like drapes. Go on.”
She is showing me what I should be doing as the crown princess. Duh. I’m so embarrassed she’s having to do this at an event where everyone can tell how ill-mannered I am. Everyone must know I come from a lowborn house.
D’Artaron takes my hand in his gloved one, flips my wrist, and presses his lips against my skin.
Holy crap.
Fleur gasps, and I snap my head her way, making sure she saw what I felt him do. I had no idea he would greet me this way, and since I’m sure he shouldn’t have kissed my wrist, but instead merely pressed his lips over the top of my hand, I stare wide-eyed at Fleur. Her expression tells me she’s shocked as well.
When D’Artaron steps back, I anticipate an explanation, but he offers me only a quizzical eyebrow, making me question my sanity.
Fleur breaks the awkward silence. “The Spring princess is from the Northorn province.”
D’Artaron nods. “Which family?”
“Belomore.”
The commander’s eyebrows shoot up. “Belomore?”
“Yes, sir.” I nod, lifting my chin a bit.
“Your name?” he asks, still looking bewildered, as if I don’t belong here. I don’t, but he doesn’t have to be this obvious about it. I expected some solidarity from him for my brother speaks highly of D’Artaron. Despite close ties with my family, we’ve never met because D’Artaron has left the province long before I was born.
The Northorners might be poor and beneath him now, but we are proud people with a long history of independence even from the governance of our court. All Northorn is proud of our heritage. We breed for military magic and provide the Spring Court with soldiers with strong battle magic. D’Artaron himself can move objects with his mind.
“Give me your name,” he orders.
“Chloe,” I answer dutifully. “You went out with my older sister.”
A blink and he asks, “And how is Claudette?”
“She’s well.” Not sure if she ever got over you. “She’s married. Three kids, mansion, you know, the springster dream.”
“And—” he starts, but the Summer princess interrupts.
“After the kings, the princesses and princes take the floor,” she says.
He excuses himself from my company and offers Fleur his elbow, but she glances at me. “Of course I wouldn’t mind, D’Artaron. We’re here to have fun. Remember fun?” With that, she leaves us to stand there awkwardly.
Since I can tell D’Artaron would rather throw himself from the window than dance with me and I have no clue how to dance the way I see the fate dance with the Unseelie king, I pretend I don’t see D’Artaron’s extended arm and sit down.
“Princess,” he says in a way that makes me rise back up instantly. D’Artaron sure has his commanding tone well practiced. He said jump, and I hopped. Yup. Most certainly.
“Dance with me,” he says. He’s not asking.
I scratch the back of my neck. “I don’t know this dance.”
“I do. Your hand?”
Good fates. I place my hand over his, and as he leads me onto the dance floor, all the single ladies start paying attention. I seek out my husband, but he’s nowhere to be found. I figure D’Artaron’s reputation as a male of honor allows him a dance with a new princess without feeding the terrible gossip mill.
On the dance floor, D’Artaron takes control of my body. His hand at my back presses me to him. He starts moving, and I have no choice but to follow. It’s easy. It’s so easy to follow him, to surrender into his step.
From this vantage point, I stare up at his strong clean-shaven jaw that shows a shadow of black beard. It makes me want to reach up and trace it with my finger.
“I’m happy for your sister,” he says. I watch his laryngeal protrusion move. I wish to have enough courage to press my lips against it the way he pressed his against my wrist.
“Thank you. I’ll let her know you said so.”
