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Chapter Thirty-Nine
Aika
“Ineed to sit down for a moment,” I blurt out to a bewildered prince.
Remy. Whoever the hell he is.
It isn’t a lie, either. My knees are no longer interested in keeping me upright.
This is an actual nightmare.
“Lady Aika—”
“Truly, it’s all right. You should — give another lady a chance to finish this song out.” Though, something irrational in me rebels at the notion of him putting his hands on another woman, even though he’s not mine.
Even though, apparently, he never was.
That hardly matters now.I shake my head at the direction of my thoughts, heading for one of the tables around the dance floor.
Footsteps follow me,familiar sands-blasted footsteps,telling me Remy has no intention of leaving me alone. A servant brings me a tray with the cinnamon sake I requested earlier, and I desperately grab the small cup.
It’s halfway to my lips when Remy catches up to me. He puts a hand on my arm, and the drink sloshes onto my glove, soaking all the way through to my skin.
“It wasn’t my intention to offend... again.”
“You didn’t,” I assure him. “I just... had a spell.”
It might be one of the least believable lies I’ve ever told, and Remy’s skeptical expression tells me how badly I’ve sold it. His eyes flit between the small, curved glass in my hand to the stains on my glove.
His hand releases mine, and he steps back, as if he’s only just now realizing how close we stand.
“In any case, I seem to have stained your glove.”
“It’s nothing.” I start to move my hand behind my back, but he reaches out to grasp it.
“Please,” he says insistently, his tone pitched low enough that our growing crowd of onlookers can’t hear him. “We have gotten off to a rocky start. At least let me make up for this much?” There’s a teasing glint in his gaze, as though he’s trying to put me at ease.
What is in my expression that he feels the need to do that?
That I don’t know is a problem in itself. It’s my job to know what’s reflecting on my features, and usually, one I do quite well.
Whatever it is, I’ve clearly made enough of a scene. Refusing would only make it worse. Reluctantly, I stretch out my hand.
His fingers go to the hem of my glove, leaving a trail of warmth down my arm as he gently pulls the fabric down. His eyes never leave mine, and the gesture is more intimate than it should be.
“That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?” He gives me a half-smirk. “The palace laundresses are magicians. It will be as good as new tomorrow, on my honor.”
I don’t quite snort, but it’s an effort.
What is the honor of a liar and a card shark? I want to ask.At least I never pretended to have any.
Once again, he picks up on the shift in my mood, and I wonder how I ever missed that this was Remy, a man who reads people better than anyone I’ve ever met. I tug my hand back from where he is still holding it in his, and his eyes travel down, widening slightly.
Is he surprised at how easily he touches me? Not likely, when by all accounts, there isn’t anyone hedoesn’ttouch.
He loosens his grip, and I step away.
Before either of us can speak again, one of the braver ladies moves between us to get his attention. It’s the distraction I need to get away from him.
He darts a glance over her shoulder, and I feign a smile in response. As soon as he escorts a lady to the dance floor, I make a run for it. Mother will be furious about my leaving early, but I can’t stay in this room another minute.
Besides, I’m not sure I could stomach another dance with theprince.
