The eyes of the court bore into her.
Now was the worst time to make a scene, but they were already whispering. Wide-eyed, Kalie spun, making the skirt of her dress fly as she took in the sight around her—Wells blazed through the crowd, Selene hid her smirk behind her hand, Haeden…Haeden. Plastering on a smile, she crossed the space between them, snatched his hand, and tugged him into the dance. His eyes narrowed, but he fell into step with her. She pivoted so that the court would see her—calm, content, unconcerned.
Nothing to see here.
The music went on, and the murmured conversations stalled as the court went back to dancing. She caught a brief glimpse of Wells, downing a glass of champagne like a shot, then the crowd knitted together and blocked him out.
“Are we talking about that?” Haeden asked, swaying in tune with the beat.
Kalie shot him a look, and he frowned deeply.
His admonishment thundered in her ears:“Things get hard, you run, someone’s left behind.”
She glanced at the punch table. It would be easy to pretend it had never happened, to dance the night away with Haeden and the others until no one remembered Wells abandoning her on the dance floor.
But she’d seen the genuine pain on Wells’s face.
When the music ended, Kalie tugged on Haeden’s hand, keeping him as a buffer between her and the nobles clamoring for her attention. His lips pursed, but he let her guide him through the crowd without comment.
At the punch table, Wells downed another glass of champagne. He slammed it down on the tray with shaking hands and plucked up another, gulping it down.
“Wells.”
He didn’t turn.
She glanced at Haeden, who took the clear dismissal with a nod and backed away. Fiddling with the fabric of her skirt, Kalie edged closer to Wells. She’d seen him lash out from anger, but not from this. She almost wished she’d pissed him off instead.
Or maybe she had.
She bit her lip. She’d dragged him into a dance—recklessly, in full view of the court—and he’d gone along with it, he’d even seemed into it, at first… but maybe he hadn’t wanted to. Her family had cost him everything.
“Zane,” she tried, but her voice was subdued. “What’s wrong?”
He kept his back to her as he fumbled with the stem of his empty champagne glass. The song completed its cycle, fading from the jaunty notes of spring and summer back to the sad melody of winter. Finally, he turned. His expression was bleak.
“That shouldn’t have happened,” he mumbled.
“The dance?”
As he stared into his glass, words stuck in Kalie’s throat. “I’m sorry, I?—”
“No,” he said hoarsely, shaking his head. “It’s not you. Don’t apologize.”
A new song started with a thrum of strings. Nobles slunk towards the punch table, making a show of perusing the food to hide their obvious attempts to eavesdrop. She ignored them, even as they snuck glances at her and Zane.
“It was the dancing,” she said, loud enough for the others to hear. “The music. It makes people lose themselves. It meant nothing, right?”
He studied her with unguarded pain on his face. Then the expression vanished, and he swapped his champagne glass for a full one. “Obviously. You did ask me to pretend.”
“Good,” Kalie said, mustering up a taunting smile, “because I still hate you.”
Wells’s grin almost hid the cracks in his facade. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
She waited until the eavesdropping courtiers went back to dancing and gossiping. Then, stepping closer, she lowered her voice.
“Are you really okay?”
His throat bobbed. Raising his glass with trembling hands, he sipped at his champagne. As a lively chorus began and cheers rang out, Wells took a deep breath that sounded like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
