Page 80 of Find My Way Down to You

Henri clinks his glass to mine. “Anyway. Back to Milos—smash or pass?”

I take a small sip from my flute to avoid answering him. The heady scent hits my nose immediately. It’s almost recognizable. “What is this?”

“No worries! It’s not alcohol.”

He remembered what I said at that party. I smile aroundanother sip. It’s equal parts sugary and tart. The seeds tingle against my lips.

“Pomegranate,” Henri offers. “Now, about Milos…”

I keep drinking.

Over the lip of my glass, I search frantically around the ballroom. My eyes track every soul. Their glowing faces. A wild hope starts beating in my chest again. One of them could behim.

Another burst of awed voices breaks my concentration. The crowd parts. Milos slinks through the open space.

His cypress crown catches the light. Instead of a mask, sparkling gold paint streaks around his eyes. His formfitting suit is currant red. The jacket’s hem flows out into a floor-length cape. It’s as if he’s being followed by a river of blood.

Wide-eyed guests gape at his beauty.

I do too.

He ignores the calls from the people he passes. Drifts by an earnest Aminta. He doesn’t stop until he reaches me, smiling smoothly.

“You came.”

“You invited me,” I say hoarsely.

His eyes gleam. “I do not expect everyone to accept my invitations.”

Behind me, Henri coughs. A wrinkle forms between Milos’s neatly manicured eyebrows. Henri whispers, “Sorry.”

I chew on my grin. “Does that mean I’m not the only one you asked to show up for this?”

Milos steps closer to touch the back of my empty hand. His fingers are gentle but assured. “No one else matters.”

Over his shoulder, I watch Aminta stomp away.

“Would you like to dance?”

Before I have time to consider, Henri plucks the glass from me. With very little subtlety, he nudges me forward. But I didn’t need him to.

There’s no way I’m missing this opportunity.

“Absolutely,” I say brightly.

Milos leads me to the center of the ballroom. Whispers break out. They’re muted by the rise of music. I try to remember what I learned from Cary. Then instantly regret thinking about him.

Nervously, I rest my hand on Milos’s shoulder. It’s the first time I notice the embroidered details on his suit. A mazelike pattern of swirls. With a wry smile, he coaxes me closer. Flush against his body.

In the ballroom light, his eyes are vivid brown. Like the shore at dawn.

“Shall we?”

Milos dances with grace and control. I’m still wobbly, uncertain with every step. But he doesn’t mock me. His smile curves high, and he looks nothing like the boy I saw sentencing a soul to the Abyss.

After stepping on his foot, I blurt, “Sorry. I’m not good at this.”

His fingers dig into my hip. “I can teach you.”