“You’ll teach her?” His tone left no room for negotiation.
“Do you have a dance instructor hidden somewhere in this manor?” I groaned, pushing to my feet with deliberate slowness.
“Not a chance.”
Rolling my shoulders, I winced as tension flared between my shoulder blades. If Nienna wanted this, I wouldn’t refuse her. “Did you tell herhowit’s done here?”
“I doubt Gayle went into detail.” He covered his mouth with one hand, though his mirth gleamed in his eyes. When his hand dropped, he beamed like a huntsman who just set the perfect trap.
I sighed, placing my empty mug on a side table. The gravity of the moment pressed down on me as I turned for the door. “Meddling old man,” I muttered.
When Lady Sol brought Nienna to the ballroom that afternoon, I called on every ounce of composure I had left. Gayle, as always, looked the picture of nobility. Her long dress swept the floor, her silver hair twisted into an elegant braided crown. She moved with the kind of grace that declared her innocence, though I suspected her mischief.
But Nienna?
Restraint, I’d learned, was a muscle—strengthened with practice.
I had never been weaker.
Her golden hair, a shade that caught the light like the first sunlit morning of summer, had been braided with care. Soft tendrils framed her face, curling along her shoulders. A deep blue dress hugged her figure, its sleeveless cut scandalous by Radaanian standards. A sheer shawl draped over her, its fringe swaying with her movements. The hem skimmed the floor, but the front? A tied middle panel revealed breeches that clung to her legs, tucked snugly into black boots.
My wonders of how tight those breeches were answered with every step she took.
I forced my gaze higher as Gayle waved her forward. My jaw tightened, regret sinking like a stone in my stomach. She faced me, her lips curving in a shy, maddening smile, making me teeter between fight and flight.
Logic whispered for me to call her back, to send Nienna away. But I hadn’t listened to sense where she was concerned for a long time.
“I hear there’s a dance tomorrow night.” Her voice, low and warm, curled around me like smoke, stoking heat beneath my skin. She hugged herself, her lashes brushing her cheeks as she peeked up at me. “But I don’t know the steps.”
“Clay told me you wanted to participate,” I said, surprised by the steadiness in my voice. My feet stayed rooted as she inched closer, the distance between us evaporating.
“If I’m able, yes.” Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips, which gleamed under the sunlight filtering through the windows. “The people of Sol deserve to see me embracing their culture. Don’t you think?”
“They’d be honored simply by your presence.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. Elohios, why couldn’t I shut my mouth?
“If you’d prefer not to teach me,” she said with feigned innocence, “I could ask a guard–”
“I’ll show you how, Nienna.” My voice dropped into a growl as I dragged a hand through my hair. The thought of the guards anywhere near her sent a jolt through my chest.
She grinned and a thousand curses bounced around my head, realizing she goaded me into that reaction.
Her eyes wandered the ballroom, lingering on the raised stage, the carved pillars, and the empty rows of chairs, before finally returning to me.
“Shall we?” I extended my hand toward her, palm up, steady and waiting.
Her gaze lingered, brow furrowing as if she weighed the consequences of taking it.
“Sol’s people are not formal,” I said, my voice quiet but coaxing. “This won’t be like the structured dances you’re used to.”
“Do you think I’ll learn it in a single day?” Her laugh, light and nervous, escaped her as she slipped her hand into mine.
Warmth spread where our palms met, her fingers threading through mine with an ease that made me forget to breathe.
Together, we climbed to the stage.
“It’s less about the steps and more about the flow of the music,” I assured her.
Lifting her hand, I spun her once as she moved onto the platform. A delighted laugh bubbled from her lips as she twirled. I caught her at the waist, her frame aligning perfectly with my hands, a maddening reminder of how well she fit against me in every way.
