But I'm also relieved when a guard catches Reave's eye and seems to give a signal; I can only somewhat make this out with my partial vision, but I feel the king tense when he sees it, and in the next instant he's finally relinquishing his hold on me.
“I need to go check on a few things. Enjoy yourself in the meantime.” He lifts my hand to his lips, brushing a slow kiss across it before smoothly slipping away.
An act.
It's all an act.
But a convincing enough act that it makes my thoughts race, and for a moment, I find myself obsessing over the exact number of seconds his lips lingered against my skin, and how slowly he drew back.
Howreluctantly.
After he's out of sight, I immediately find Briar and make my way toward her. She hands me a glass of wine without any preamble, waiting until I've downed half of it before she gives me one of her typical, chaotic grins.
“You two looked nice together,” she comments.
“Shut up,” I mutter.
Her grin widens. “I have to tease, or I might lose my mind over all this. It all feels entirely too surreal, doesn't it?”
“Yes.”
“So many powerful people here…” She hugs her arms around herself and lowers her voice as she adds, “And here I am, resisting the urge to steal from any of them.”
“Or stab them.”
She sighs. “Palace life is turning us so fucking soft.”
“It's all part of the job at hand,” I remind her. “Just an act.”
We're quiet for a moment, both trying to catch our breath and settle our nerves, before Briar mutters, “Trouble approaching.”
I lift my gaze and immediately spot the trouble in question: a group of finely-dressed men and women making a direct march toward us. No one I've been introduced to, yet, and perhaps they see this as a slight—perhaps that's why there's menace shining beneath their smiles.
I hold in a sigh as they approach. I'd rather be traversing the Ashlands, battling dragons or any of the other horrors those desolate places used to throw at me; somehow, it seems like it would be less dangerous than a conversation with these nobles.
They gather around us like wolves, sizing us up, searching for weak spots they might attack.
“Lady Desna, at your service,” says the apparent leader, awoman wearing so much powder and rouge it makes her face look eerily painted and smooth—more like a living doll than a human being. She gives a slight curtsy. “A pleasure to meet you.”
The rest of the circle introduces themselves. I pay attention and log their names away purely for the sake of having more information. I start to offer my own name in return, but Lady Desna cuts me off.
“You needn't introduce yourself; we all know who you are, of course. The alleged Flamebound we've all just beendyingto see in person.” Her green-eyed gaze flicks to my face, lingering on the patch Kestrel fixed over my eye, studying the bit of scarring peeking out from underneath it. “And my, aren't youinterestinglooking?”
The thinly-veiled insult rolls right off of me. Briar is less indifferent; I can sense the tension gathering around her, pulling tight like a band ready to snap.
Desna continues to study me, tilting her head this way and that. She reminds me of an irritating, chirpy little bird. “Tell us, is it true that our elusive king has finally been snared by you?”
“Snared is an interesting choice of word,” Briar says in a low, deceptively pleasant tone.
Lady Desna’s eyes sweep briefly to her, assessing and apparently not finding her worth a reply; she merely turns back to me with a small, dismissive smile.
“She would know how to trap things, wouldn't she?” one of the other noblewomen chimes in. “I've heard she's from the outer reaches of the Ashlands—from the slums of Halvgate. I imagine you have to catchall sortsof things to survive out there.” She's speaking as though I'm not standing right in front of her, and the others follow her lead.
“I heard they eat rats and snakes when the winter stretches long enough.”
“That there's no such thing as trash when you're hungry.”
“And the streets are barely fit for animals, let alone people.”
