I sighed. “I don’t belong here, and everyone knows it.”
“As it turns out, I’m the prince and this is my palace. I’m the only one to judge whether you belong. And I say you do. That’s all anyone needs to know.”
The players started up again. The prince held out his hand, his eyes gleaming like sapphires in the candlelight, a smile playing at his lips. “Dance with me.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You’ve danced with me before.”
“In a foreign country without your hangers-on watching and judging.”
He took my hand and looked down at me with a frown. “You’ll chase a murderer through the woods, but a dance in front of wealthy strongholders scares you?”
“I’m not scared.” I glanced back at the dancers. “I don’t know this dance. And you’re the one they’ll terrorize for dancing with a servant.”
“You don’t look like a servant.”
And that was a grift. I thought it, but didn’t say it, since he’d apparently managed to scramble up dresses for Wren and me. “This isn’t my kind of party.”
“Let me guess—you prefer a loud inn beside the market, plenty of sweetwine, and a little thievery.”
It took me a moment to realize where he’d gotten that. “Wren told you about Springmarket.”
“She did.” He leaned forward; while we were in a shadowed corner of the ballroom, there were undoubtedly guests wondering who he was having an intimate conversation with. And about what. “How about this? Dance with me, and you can show them who you are. That it doesn’t matter whether you have coin or not, and that you don’t care what they think. That I don’t care.”
I watched him for a moment. If he was going to try to be a better prince, maybe I could try to be a better Fox. “Do you want to use that favor you asked for?” (Still Fox, though.)
He considered. “I’ll trade a dance for half a favor.”
“Half?” I snorted. “No. Whole favor or nothing. It’s not a coin; you can’t just shave away a bit of edge and try to spend it.” There probably wasn’t a single coin in the stronghold with itsoriginal edges. Not when they could be pared down, the slivers melted and remolded to make new. Not legal, but that only mattered if you were caught.
He pointed to the other side of the room. “You notice there is literally a line of women hoping for a dance with me.”
Even Foxes are susceptible to the right bait. I glanced over. Easily a dozen women waited for his attention. That made me suddenly furious. “Surely they have better things to do than compete for a man.”
“A prince,” he corrected, then cocked his head at me. “Why do you refuse to admit that I want to dance with you? Are you afraid?”
I knew he was daring me. I could see it in the glimmer in his eyes.
I hated that I wanted to shrink away from the question—and the reminder that I’d tried to slink away from the party. I was better than that. I was braver than that. And maybe, just a little, I wondered what it would be like to dance with a prince in a place like this.
“One dance,” I said. “In exchange for your favor. And don’t complain to me later about the gossip and rumors.”
“I expect you enjoy collecting gossip nearly as much as coins, but I agree.” He offered his arm. “Madam.”
I put my hand atop his like I’d seen others do, and we walked toward the guests assembled on the dance floor. They parted as we walked through, and while I could feel the whispers behind me, I kept my focus on his warm hand beneath mine as we moved through the gauntlet.
We took a spot in the middle of the other dancers. I moved to face him, and he put a hand at my back and held out his other hand. “Give me your hand, and do what I do. And remember”—helowered his head to whisper in my ear—“an audience wants one of two things: your joy or your pain. You get to decide which you offer them.”
And we began to move.
He’d danced well in Vhrania, but that had been a walking dance and hadn’t required much finesse. But here, with the soft and sweeping music, he moved like he’d danced all his life. He kept his eyes trained on me, his look so intense that gooseflesh rose on my arms.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” I asked.
A corner of his mouth lifted, but he didn’t look away. “I’m trying very hard not to look at Wren. I can feel the daggers in my back.”
“She’s going to have thoughts,” I agreed. Very loud thoughts.
