Page 57 of Bloodgrove

“Oh.” Mr. Arcos saw her as well. Perhaps he had assumed she had left the floor with the previous dance and had not noticed her until now.

“It is good to know jealousy is one of your weaknesses.” Will grinned. But Mr. Arcos’s expression had closed further, becoming cold. If Will were brave, he would have said the man looked unsettled.

“Regarding your bargain with the devil…” the ambassador began after several more turns. “In return, I want you to discover what she wants from that man.”

Will studied Duke Wilkinson over Arcos’s shoulder: the greying hair, the gaunt figure, the old-fashioned yet elegant clothes.

“Is that not obvious? Money. The security of marriage.”

“Duke Wilkinson is also a candidate for the Red Hand. By marrying her, he removes her from the contest. And Elodie… She has hated that man since our childhood.”

Will suppressed the sharp pain that struck him whenever he remembered that the two of them shared a past—a childhood, a youth, and a family. Instead, he recalled everything Elodie had told him. It could not be true that she would rather marry than become the next Red Hand. “Then it must be another of her games, because she has no intention of surrendering the office.”

“Why can’t she simply withdraw?” Mr. Arcos growled, unable to take his eyes from her.

“Why should she?” The question had burned on Will’s tongue ever since he had first heard of their rivalry.

A cold gaze lowered to Will, and he wondered how Mr. Arcos was able to look down upon him when they were nearly the same height. “I have served the Red Hand for years. I have seen the sacrifices the office demands, how it takes everything from a person. In the end, there would be nothing left of her.” An old pain entered his eyes. “There is barely anything left of her now—of the girl I once knew.”

“And yet you love her.”

Mr. Arcos stumbled. It took several steps for him to recover. “Why would you say something so absurd?”

“But I am right, am I not?”

Mr. Arcos remained silent, and Will knew he had gone too far.

“I have changed my mind,” Mr. Arcos said. “I want you to prevent Elodie from marrying Duke Wilkinson.”

“You cannot simply change our bargain!”

The dance ended, and Mr. Arcos released him. “You forget—I am the devil. I can do anything.”

Chapter 30

Will was not the sort of man to stand willingly on the sidelines and become a forgotten pawn. But he had learned from his recent mistakes, and this time he did not leave the ballroom. He danced and danced, whirling across the marble floor to violins and deep drums until he surrendered to the rush of it. One moment he danced with a bird whose fingers ended in golden talons, then with a devil, a werewolf, a harpy, a ghost, a demon. Round and round he went, laughing at their jokes, paying compliments, telling them about the Capitol.

At last, his feet aching, he stumbled aside and searched for an alcove where the shadows would conceal him without hiding the dance floor from view.

“This corner is already taken.” Saint grinned at him, the corners of his mouth nearly reaching his ears. “But I have room for you.” He was dressed as a court jester, his cap sitting crookedly atop his unruly hair, and the costume peculiarly suited him. Tiny bells rang with every movement, emphasizing the mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

The alcove was spacious. Beyond a pointed arch, it imitated a window with a stone bench upon which Saint sat, one leg drawn up, his back against the wall. It was warm inside, yet Will still braced himself for the cool touch of stone against his skin. It never came. The wall was unnaturally hot, almost like a living body.

“Why is the stone warm?” Will asked before he could stop himself.

“Because the King built this house, and his magic flows through the stone—much like it does through the royal palace,” Saint explained with a calmness that proved Will had once again asked about something everyone else considered perfectly ordinary.

“Why is he never here? Our queen often appears at the celebrations of the high nobility.” Will himself had only ever seen her from a distance, a beautiful older woman.

“He is here—represented by the Red Hand.”

Will frowned. “Have you ever seen him?”

Saint laughed. “No one sees the king. That is why he has the Red Hand.” He gestured toward the dais. His fingers were black tonight as well.

“But how do you know he exists if no one ever sees him?”

“Must you see everything with your own eyes to know it exists?” Saint leaned toward him across the bench, bracing himself on his hands. “How am I supposed to know the Capitol exists when I have never seen it?”