“My best friend used to love dancing. I learned it for her.”
Even if she wasn’t utterly incapable of imagining Mira twirling across a dance floor, his pensive tone made it clear he wasn’t referring to her.
“Not Mira?”
“Not Mira,” he whispered, clutching the stem of his champagne glass.
“Well, if you ever want to try dancing again…” Kalie faltered, struck by the absurdity that she was offering this tohimof all people, but he’d already looked up at her. “I wouldn’t mind going for another round.”
“Thanks.” He set his glass aside, and as he trudged away, his solemn voice drifted back to her: “But I think dancing was ruined for me a long time ago.”
Dali, Sector 4
Decemmensis-21, 817 cycles A.F.C.
The Guardsmen’sLounge was buzzing with energy, as it always was when Vale posted the week’s duty schedule. Zane leaned back into his wicker chair, sipped at his kaf, and finished watching a fencing clip as the larger duelist trounced his opponent. Around him, other guards sat on the edge of couches and wicker chairs, frantically tapping at their holopads.
Zane pulled his duty schedule up. Not bad at all.
“How is it you always snag the best shifts?” a guard grumbled, stopping beside him. “Half-day of hallway patrol, banquet duty—you only have one perimeter check all weekend?”
Zane flashed him a grin. “Just good luck, I guess.”
“Or friends in high places.”
He glanced at the other guard’s screen. Four night shifts and two twelve-hour days. “You got a raw deal.”
“Tell me about it,” the man grunted. “They should put you on thenight shifts. You keep half the barracks up, with all that shouting. Only one loud as you is Grant.”
“I don’t sleep well,” Zane muttered, but the guard had already walked away.
He sipped his kaf, breathing in the bitter aroma. He didn’t care for it much, but alcohol only found its way into the lounge at night. He’d tolerate it until he got Avington back, then he’d treat himself to a week-long tasting of the wine cellar.
His knuckles turned white on the cup, and he glowered at the steaming black liquid.
Judging by Hannover’s vague updates and constant excuses, he’d be waiting for that wine tour for a while. For the past two weeks, she’d been holed up in her solar. The few times he’d managed to corner her, she seemed to be avoiding him.
It had been that way since the ball.
Zane scrubbed a hand over his face. He hadn’t meant to humiliate her in front of her court. He’d thought he could handle it. But he hadn’t danced with anyone since he’d fled Oppalli, and maybe the past had tangled with the present, maybe he’d been caught up in the moment with her body pressed against his and their hands clasped together, but when he’d blinked, he’d seen a different face.
He’d seen blood.
With a shuddering breath, he pushed memories of Oppalli down into the box where they belonged.
But before that, though, before he’d closed his eyes and seen her face… he’d almost enjoyed it.
Hannover was prissy and prudish, and he’d been annoyed when she pulled him away from that delectable maid who’d been seconds from inviting him back to her room—but damn was she hot. And even though she was irritating as hell, she was fascinating.
Zane took a swig of kaf. He’d have to keep holding her at arm’s length. That feeling was too dangerous.
“Wells.” Wright stood before him. His lips were pressed into a thin line. “A word?”
Sighing, Zane set his kaf down and motioned for Wright to sit on the other side of the small round table. The stocky guard ploppedinto a wicker chair, bringing an overpowering cloud of cologne with him.
“I need a favor.”
“Shoot.”
