“Closer to fifty,” Nik said.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “Don’t all the princes have armies?”
“They have detachments,” Galen said. His complete lack of sarcasm emphasized the apparent gravity of this development. “Like the soldiers who marched in with the prince. But the Eastern Army and Western Army are supposed to be led by generals. Not royals.”
“The head of the Eastern Army died,” Nik said. “The emperor has concerns about aggressiveness from Illarnin, and the empress has convinced him to put the troops in the hands of someone trustworthy.”
Illarnin was the nation to Carethia’s southeast.
“The Eastern Prince isn’t trustworthy?” I asked.
“He trusts no one,” Nik said. “People who refuse to trust aren’t usually trustworthy themselves.”
Wren frowned. “How did Savaadh know about this before the Western Prince?”
“He apparently has better contacts than the prince, or faster ones. Official messengers come through the Western Pass.”
That was the only road that traversed Mount Cennet, the highest peak in the mountains east of the stronghold. The pass was nestled in a narrow valley, and even that was blocked in midwinter. The only other options were skirting the entire mountain range, which would add weeks to a trip, or crossing the mountain on foot with a guide. And that was often deadly.
Savaadh lifted his hands. “The hour draws near!” he announced. “We must retire soon to prepare for our journey. Weleave before sunrise to set our way.” That was the cue for a group of musicians to begin playing. One whistled into a skinny pipe, another plucked the three strings of a long box, and a third tapped a rhythm on a set of hand drums.
Savaadh strode to us. “It is our custom to share a dance the day of our departure. Will you join us?”
“No, thank you,” Nik said. “I don’t dance.”
Savaadh’s gaze shifted to me. “Fox?”
I knew that the mood among our group had darkened, but how many opportunities would I have like this? “Sure. But I don’t know how.”
“This I can teach you now.” He held out his hand, and I took it and rose to my feet. But I glanced back at Wren.
“Go,” she said. “I’ll be here not dancing.” And in case anyone tried to sway her otherwise, she crossed her arms, her features settling into her usual stern expression.
I didn’t bother asking for Nik’s permission. After all, I was honoring a Zephyrii tradition. Helping Carethian diplomacy.
Stools and tables in the middle of the room were pushed to its edges. Savaadh and I joined the other pairs of dancers who’d begun to form a wide circle in the space they’d created. And then the music began, a slow beat of drums and finger bells. We all clasped hands and the circle began to move. Two steps to the right, a clap, two steps to the left. I followed along, matching my movements to theirs, and then the entire circle began to spin. Skirts of brilliantly colored fabrics swirled like falling petals, and smiles blossomed with the joy of moving together. This was why they danced: to remind themselves, before setting out in a line of travelers that might stretch a mile, that they were one community. One family.
The circle split into couples, and Savaadh twirled me around, and then on to the next dancer. We made another spin, and so on and so on, until I reached the man with remarkable blue eyes.
Nik took my hand, the touch sending a sizzling kind of warmth through mine.
I looked up at him. “I thought you didn’t dance.”
“I thought I didn’t, either. Turns out, I make exceptions.”
We turned in a circle, hands joined, and then he spun me away and back again. The flecks of gold in his eyes seemed brighter, his lips more generous. Even the curve of his ear was beautiful. If my heart had pinched not just for Anima, but for dangerous humans, it might have done so now.
The dance had already quickened my heartbeat, but now it sped in a new way. We’d had a kind of dance fighting back against the attack on the prince’s convoy. That had been a battle. This was…an awareness. Not of a soldier, but of a man.
Nik’s gaze didn’t leave mine, and I saw the awareness mirrored in his eyes, along with surprise. And then he released me to the next dancer, and we shifted back and forth between the rows of couples. I found myself searching for him through the lines of dancers, wanting one more glimpse.
When we reached each other again, he didn’t hesitate to take my hands. We mimicked the moves of those around us as candlelight sparkled and incense scented the air with mysterious flowers. I looked up and found his eyes on me, and there was hunger there now.
He drew my body against his, lowered his head, and pressed his mouth to mine. The kiss was testing and soft until I responded and slipped a hand into his dark and silken hair. There was a rumble of victory in his chest and he deepened the kiss, pulling me closer. I could have blamed the sweetwine andincense for not stopping, for not pushing him away. But I wanted this. The heat, the connection, the moment.
The dancers around us disappeared, so there was only Nik and me and the pounding drums. His hand at the small of my back, the hard line of his body a wall against the rest of the world. The image of our bodies joined in heat and desire flashed through my mind, had breath shuddering out of me.
And then the music stopped.
