Butterflies erupt in my stomach at his sweet words and I become more desperate for an excuse. “I will just tread on your feet.”
“I think I can cope,” he grins, shaking his head. “You might as well learn to dance with me now as you shall be at the ball.”
He’s not going to take no for an answer, that much is clear, his last comment takes me by surprise though. We are going to be dancing together at the ball? I knew I was going to be forced to dance, but with Amir, in front of everyone? Gods above. Pressed against the prince all evening while my thoughts are so… active. I am going to make a huge fool of myself.
“What do you mean?” I ask on a croak, needing clarification as my voice threatens to break.
Amir lowers his arms, taking pity on me and closes the distance between us. “The ball is in your honour. Usually, it would be the king who takes the first dance, but I am taking my father’s place.”
“It is an honour.” Madame chimes in, her voice sharp and disapproving. Not of the prince, oh no, even from their short interaction I can tell she worships him. It is me that she doesn’t like, that and my blatant disregard for tradition.
I ignore her, not really caring what she thinks of me. What I do need is to focus on the real issue at hand. Okay, one dance with the prince tonight, I think I can manage that. Right?
He seems to be sensing what I’m thinking, and winks at me. “Of course I will be asking for more dances throughout the ball.”
I have no idea how to reply. The way he’s behaving and his cheeky wink have thrown me. Not to mention he just informed me that we would be dancing together many times tonight. That he would berequestingdances with me. Does this mean that he liked the kiss? That he feels similarly drawn? All last night I have been convincing myself that he would want nothing to do with me. He might have returned my kiss, but in the moment, he might have been shocked and was being gentlemanly by not rejecting me on the spot. That possibility is seeming less likely now that he’s actively sought me out today, when he could have just ignored me and what happened in the garden.
“Let’s get started then,” Madame Grey calls out, taking my silence as acceptance. “We were working on a waltz your highness.”
Amir gently takes my hand in his, squeezing gently in encouragement. Our eyes meet and something passes between us that transcends words. It is a feeling I have only ever felt when working with my gemstones, and it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I want to trust him, and that is something I never expected to feel toward the prince.
Slowly, as though afraid I might spook and run away, he leads me out onto the floor. Dancing with the prince. I cannot believe I am about to do this. Nausea fills me and I feel lightheaded, the very thought making me sick. Glancing down at my hands, I hover, not knowing where to put them. Everything I learnt from Madame Grey has escaped my mind. It was different when I was dancing with Abbie, but now, with the prince as my partner, it seems very important to get right.
“Relax,” he whispers, expression sympathetic. Rolling his shoulders back, he raises his arms in the correct hand hold. His right hand rests on my lower back, and his left takes my free hand, raising it up.
“You are too far apart.” Madame Grey shouts across the room and I cannot hide my wince. That only means one thing.
“She is right,” he whispers with a smile, using my waist to pull me closer. Our hips brush against each other as I stand just to the side of him. It’s an odd position, but he makes it feel so easy, his frame solid and true. Dancing with Abbie didn’t feel like this. With Amir, it almost feels like I was made to fit in the crook of his arm, our bodies slotting together like a puzzle piece. I forget that we are being watched, and all of my insecurities fade away, my gaze locked on his crystal blue eyes. He doesn’t speak, yet we communicate nonetheless through soft smiles.
The music begins and we start to move. I stumble over the first few steps, but his frame is so strong that we quickly shift onto the next step and continue as though nothing happened. With him leading me, the steps suddenly make sense, my feet practically gliding across the floor.
We come to a stop, the music ending, except it feels as though I’m in a trance, unable to step from Amir’s hold. How long do we stand like this, simply staring at each other as though something has just changed? I have no idea, nor can I quantify what exactly happened between us when we were dancing.
“Much improved, Lady Kiara! Just remember to keep that left elbow lifted.” Madame Grey’s voice cuts through our quiet moment, but I let her words gloss over me completely.
Taking a half-step back, I attempt to put some space between us despite my heart screaming to stay in his arms. Even so, to stand so close to the prince probably breaks about ten different rules.
The small distance between us seems to snap him from his trance and he blinks slowly, shaking his head. A slow smile pulls at his lips. “You are a natural.”
“You are a brilliant leader.” I beam up at him, happiness flowing through my body like our dance has washed away my fears. By no means am I suddenly a brilliant dancer, but Amir makes me feel as though I can do anything.
However, something changes in his gaze, his expression becoming troubled. Everything about him has shifted; he is no longer Amir, but Prince Amir. Any happiness that I had felt vanishes in an instant at the change. Oh no, what did I do? I must have hit a nerve with my comment, although I’m not sure why. Did I remind him of his responsibilities? Was I too keen and he suddenly remembered where I am from? Opening my mouth, I start to apologise but he stops me by raising my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against it.
“Apologies, Lady Kiara, but I am needed elsewhere.” Stepping back, he formally bows at the waist. Standing, he smiles, but the warmth that I am used to seeing there is gone. “I look forward to seeing you at the ball this evening.”
Heart in my throat, I attempt to say something again as he walks over to the madame. I frown, not knowing what to make of what is happening. Amir quickly finishes his conversation with our instructor and marches from the room with only a quick glance back over his shoulder.
Clearly something happened in the moment after we finished dancing, but what? Was it something I said or did? Perhaps a more important question to ask is why do I care so much?
Twenty-One
Standing at my bedroom windows, I stare out at the gardens, arms crossed over my chest as though it will hold back the deluge of feelings in my chest. The stunning view should be moving something inside me, yet I don’t see it, my thoughts clouding my mood. I should be seeing Ella or getting ready for the ball, instead I am brooding in my room.
When I was dancing with the prince earlier, it felt like something had changed between us, and that terrifiesme. Not only the new feeling he invokes in me, but he has earnt a place in my heart next to Ella and Abbie. Caring for people is dangerous as it leaves me open to getting hurt. On the other hand, they bring a new light to my life, a brightness that makes me want to actually live my life and not just survive it.
My attention shifts as the air in the room becomes tense, static making the hairs on my arms stand on end. It’s an unsettling feeling, but one that I have come to associate with Kit. My heart does a little jump in my chest and I adopt a scowl to hide my reaction. Turning to face him, I ready myself for whatever quip he will inevitably send my way.
Only, the figure standing behind me isn’t Kit.
