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Chapter Thirty-Eight
Aika
Ipluck two unflavored sakes off a passing tray, one in each hand, and down them in quick succession. They’re bland, and I wrinkle my nose.
“Could you bring me cinnamon sake instead?” I ask the manservant, placing the empty cups on his tray.
He gives me a deep incline of his head and disappears into the crowd while I resist the urge to steal the whiskey from the lord standing next to me.
My head aches from the weight of the jeweled mask, and I’m still reeling from my dance with the king... from everything he knows and from the things I saw swirling in his eyes when he referenced my sister.
Even if he was lying for half of it.
Thinking of Zaina tonight is not conducive to staying in one piece, though, and falling apart has cost me enough as it is. Damian’s face looms in my mind.
Hell, it still might cost me everything.
Unfortunately, walking away from Einar has me heading back toward the prince, reminding me that, once again, I have let my emotions get the better of me. If that half dance is all he and I share tonight, Mother will hear of it.
And she will punish me.
When the next dance ends, I slip my way through the ladies to the front, one of the few advantages of my size.
While most of his face is hidden behind his mask, something in his expression shifts when our eyes meet. The set of his jaw changes from the polite grin he gives the courtiers to something a little more genuine.
He steps closer to me, lowering his voice. “Willing to risk another dance with the boorish prince, Lady Aika?”
I soften a bit at his self-deprecating words, in spite of myself. Then again, maybe that’s the aftereffects of the sake making this evening a bit more bearable. Still, at least he can acknowledge what an arse he is.
Though, his outward impression of intimacy does little to endear me to the surrounding ladies, judging by their expressions. I suppose I should get used to it, since they’ll only hate me more when this is over and I’ve “won.”
“I should get them in while I still can,” I allow, my tone dry. “After all, I doubt you’ll recognize me tomorrow, what with one courtier being so very indistinguishable from the next.”
A low laugh rumbles out of him. He holds out his arm for me, and I take it, allowing him to sweep me toward the middle of the dance floor.
“I suppose it’s been a night for mistakes, then, because I was clearly erroneous in assuming there was a courtier in the world like you.” From the warm amusement in his tone, it’s clear he knows his flattery is over the top and is unconcerned by it.
Still, I can’t help the sincere smile that pulls at the corners of my mouth. I could almost believe that he doesn’t hate the idea of marrying me. He turns me in his arms, clearing his throat as I face him once more.
“Which still pales in comparison to the other error, of course.” There is a genuine apology in his tone now. “You would think that losing someone would make you more considerate of another person’s grief, but it seems so often to go the other way.”
I think of the things my grief for Zaina has propelled me into doing, and I can’t disagree.
Neither can I judge.
Maybe his flattery is fake, and maybe he’s only looking for an accessory to sit prettily by his side while he rules one day, but it isn’t like my motives are any better than his.
In fact, they’re probably far worse.
Whether it’s the unexpected stab of guilt that accompanies that thought, or the strange kinship I feel with him in this moment, something leads me to being more honest than I usually would be.
“When I found out Zaina died,” I stop, realizing it’s the first time I’ve said those words out loud.
My hand clenches around the prince’s. Instead of pulling away or widening his eyes, he surprises me by squeezing gently back, pulling me a bit closer to him.
It’s a good thing this dance is slow because I would have certainly stumbled over this unexpected kindness from a veritable stranger. An arrogant prince, at that.
“It took me weeks just to feel like I was human again,” I finish my sentence. “Let alone think about anyone else.”
