“Lord d’Refan,” I started.
“I told you, Alois,” he responded quickly.
“Yes, Alois”—the name felt weird coming off my tongue—“are you going to rejectallof the eligible men who present themselves? I’ll have no betrothal candidates at this rate and will die a spinster who lives with her brother.” Peytor snorted a laugh.
“At least you’re good company, sister. Unlike other people,” he mumbled the last part into his whiskey, and my father took the glass from him.
“That’s enough for you tonight.”
“I’m not a child, Father,” Peytor slurred.
“Then stop acting like one!” Father hissed, which shut Peytor up momentarily.
“Miss Ellowyn d’Aelius, may I have your first dance of the evening?” A smooth voice with a slightly unplaceable accent drew my attention back to the suitors.
I smiled at him and spoke before anyone could speak for me.
This was the first man to aim a question at me. Not my father. Not Lord d’Refan, just me.
I desperately needed a break from the toxic masculinity at the table, and I jumped at the chance to leave.
“Yes, of course, Lord . . .?”
He smiled back, teeth dazzling white. “Lord Torin d’Eshu. Or you could just call me Torin, if you prefer.” He was tall, taller than even me, with light brown, almost blond hair that hung in loose waves. Torin’s eyes were an arresting shade of hazel—more honey than brown, mixed with a deep forest green—and they danced with mirth and mischief.
I liked him immediately.
“Torin, then,” I said as I rose from my chair, carefully picking up my skirts to maneuver away from the table. Lord d’Refan shot him a dark look, and I heard him mutter something about first names.
“I’ve never heard of you, Torin d’Eshu,” he grumbled.
“That is because I am from the Southern Territories, Lord d’Refan. I doubt you would’ve heard of me. I’m notthatrenowned! Yet.” He added the last part with a wink in my direction, and I giggled. I quickly walked around the table to place my hand in Torin’s. His palm was calloused like he wasn’t immune to work, and I felt a tingle cascade through my body at his touch.
Torin’s eyebrows rose a hair at the sensation, which made me believe I wasn’t the only one to feel it.
His proclamation of his origins started a murmur across the ballroom and a conversation to break out at the head table, but I ignored it all to focus on the one man who actually asked me for something tonight rather than my father or Lord d’Refan, offending people be damned.
Chapter 18
Ellowyn
“Maestro,” I called. “Something fast, please.” The maestro nodded as the orchestra began a fast-paced number that would allow me to stretch my legs and move for once tonight. “I don’t know how well I can dance in this”—I gestured to my dress—“but I will do my best,” I told Torin.
“I’m sure it will be fun either way,” he said with a smile as the dance began, “after all, it’s with you.”
After that, there wasn’t much time for conversation as we danced for three songs straight, Torin or I constantly gesturing for another to begin. As we danced, more couples joined us. Even Peytor joined with one of the ladies seeking his attention tonight. I laughed as I twirled, my earlier woes forgotten. I tripped on my dress more than once, but Torin took it all in stride. Maybe it was the dancing, or maybe it was Torin, but I finally felt light and happy for the first time tonight. A part of me buried deep within glowed contentedly.
As the song ended, Torin leaned in close to my ear. “Find me later tonight,” he said. “I wish to speak with you before declaring my intentions, and I have no doubt that you are going to be stolen from me for the next dance.”
My whole body lit at his words.
He wanted to talk to me!
I laughed giddily before agreeing, and, sure enough, I was swept up in the next dance by one of the suitors from earlier. I didn’t remember his name and found that I didn’t quite care. Lord d’Refan had already rejected his proposal, and I found it easy to stay relaxed when there was no pressure to behave a certain way.
I danced continually, well into the night. There was a constant stream of people who wanted a moment with me, I even got one of the stoic Mages standing guard around the ballroom to dance at one point. Though the General’s darkened and slightly murderous expression aimed my direction dampened the mood a bit. I had little time to dwell on it, however, as I was swept up into yet another dance.
After what felt like hours, I had to politely decline the next offer in favor of finding something to drink and a seat to momentarily rest my feet. I carefully made my way back to my place at the head table, weaving in and out of dancing and laughing couples while exchanging small pleasantries with those who caught my eye.
