Orchestra music rose from a hidden pit, striking up a slow tune that drew out most of the bloodsuckers interested in dancing. Rather than pairing up with one partner, vampiresses danced with their whole Devotions. Up to four devotees circled their Beloved, orbiting as the vampiresses twirled and posed in elegant, practiced arcs.
With Mathias’s invitation in mind, there had to be other dances suitable for pairs. But the fact that this intimate song was played first, and the showiest vampiresses also happened to be the ones competing for the throne, had to be a deliberate choice.
I glided away from the show of Devotions and prowled the edges of the crowd, searching the faces of those more interested in chatting or sitting alone, sure I would find Zane looking back at me. Of the two of us, he was the more social one. Perhaps he’d made friends by this point. I could attest that I’d met a few halfway decent vampires upon coming to this competition, not that it made a difference.
A vampire servant offered me a goblet of blood wine on his way by with a full platter of finger foods. I pretended to take a sip and watched the direction he headed with that platter. The Born didn’t eat human food usually, but I wouldn’t mind committing a social blunder to taste something that wasn’t a ration bar.
First, I aimed to complete the circuit of the ballroom. Every glimpse of a tall man with dark hair turned my head, but I was jumping at shadows. Chasing a ghost. As far as I could tell, Zane wasn’t here.
I didn’t spot him dancing, either. The song was a lengthy one but eventually ended on a crescendo of violin strings. Notes hung in the vaulted ceiling, reflecting back in a distorted echo as the clustered Devotions broke apart.
Despite all the motion, I ended up locking eyes with a familiar maroon gaze. Mathias strode toward me from a few yards away. He was a dark warlord in that military-style coat, marching unhurried to his next duel. Something low in my belly tightened to have all of his attention so singularly focused on me.
I’d promised him a dance, but in that moment, Ithought,We can dance later.I had no interest in being pressed up against the regent who made my skin crawl—and not in the way I approved of.
I turned and disappeared into the crowd, winding around the crush of vampires as a new song struck up and filled the air. This time, couples joined hands, leaving many devotees without a partner and standing by the wayside. These mated vampires watched me walk by with disinterest.
After a few minutes, I was sure Mathias had invited a different woman to dance. I doubled back to head for the tables laden with refreshments. There was blood in all sorts of presentations: fresh from the vein, mixed with alcohol, or included in all the food items. My lip curled as I noted the only item that looked vaguely edible. A small serving of beef tartare in the shape of a meatball.
“Lady Ilyana.”
My fingers flinched back from a display of pastries. I whipped toward the vampire who came up beside me. “Lord Regent.”
“Developing a taste for Made delicacies?” He indicated the food behind me with an elegant sweep of his hand. “I’ve never understood why the Born sneak food with such shame. Please, indulge yourself. I’ll look away.”
I answered with a “hmph,” nose high in the air. “Are you following me, Lord Regent?”
“Yes.” The corner of his lip lifted. “Are you running from me, Lady Ilyana?”
“Please. I don’trunin these heels,” I said as haughtily as I could muster.
Mathias’s face creased further with amusement. “My mistake. I do hope you feast as much as possible tonight.Come tomorrow, you would do well to start the trial with a full stomach.”
I glanced at him again, surprised to hear such a blatant hint about the next trial out of his mouth.
“Dance with me. I would like to get to know you better.” He held out a hand and raised a well-groomed eyebrow.
Despite the complicated tangle of dislike I held inside for him, it warred with something else, a more dangerous feeling that verged way too close to interest. It made me nauseous, and sure that somehow I had to be feeling an echo of Ilyana’s desires. “Why?”
“Come with me, and I’ll answer that.”
“I have no intentions of dancing tonight.”
“Scouting your enemies. Practical. Let’s sit and talk, then.” He gestured to a cluster of empty tables. “I promise a few minutes in my company won’t be fatal.” He offered his arm in invitation.
I acquiesced and laid my hand on his arm. He led me toward some unoccupied seats. I pushed aside a few discarded fluted glasses full of bubbling red liquid. We sat together, and I turned to him expectantly.
“You intrigue me, Lady Ilyana. Of the candidates for the throne, you stand out.” His gaze drifted over me, nearly soft. Hewasflirting, just as I’d suspected. The clearest course of action would be to flirt back and see what else he’d tell me of the trial ahead.
I can do this. For Zane, I can pretend.
“How so?” I attempted to purr, leaning in as if I held my breath for his response.
“You feel strongly, and your emotions sing in a different, more passionate octave than the other candidates. Every time the candidates gathertogether, I sense you first.”
I went cold with prickling dread. He kept picking me out of the crowd, staring at me. Seeking me out. This wasn’t a romantic overture.
“Tell me, Lady Ilyana, why are you really here?” he asked. There was no pressure on my head or face, no glow about his eyes, no tingles of awareness over my skin. But he had to be using magic on me now all the same. The same emotion-sensing power that’d made him so valuable to Nemea in the first place.
