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He smooths a hand through his short, blond curls and then dips his chin in greeting to my mother before he then turns to me. “Lady Luna”—he offers his hand with a subtle bow—“may I have this dance?”
“Yes,” I reply, offering him my best smile.
He takes my hand and guides me onto the floor. His skin is soft, but then again, he is the Crown Prince of Avalor, and I suppose, like his father, he does not train with their guards.
He’s taller than me, though not by much, and when I grip his shoulder with my free hand, I’m surprised by how much padding seems to be incorporated into his tunic, for I cannot feel anything of his actual shoulder.
Duren puts his free hand on my waist and then leads me in a waltz. His steps are sure and graceful, but it is well-known the prince loves to dance. He smiles at me as we spin and whirl across the floor, and I’m acutely aware of all the eyes trained in our direction.
His hand slides from my waist to my back and he pulls me closer. My heart races knowing that our position is on the razor’s edge of propriety and, although he is the prince, I will not allow him to take any liberties with me. Gently, I push back from him a bit and his grin widens. “That’s why I like you, Luna,” he says, his gaze sweeping over the room. “I’m sure most of the other women here would have made to move closer to me, simply because of who I am, regardless of how it may look to others.”
I’m not sure what to make of his statement other than that it rubs me the wrong way.
He continues. “Do not worry about propriety this night.” He leans in a bit and whispers. “I have already asked your father for your hand, and he has agreed. You are mine, and we may do whatever we wish.”
Dread slithers down my spine as his eyes travel up and down my form meaningfully. Steeling myself, I tip up my chin. “You asked my father, but you have not yet asked me.”
He frowns. “Are you suggesting you would deny my offer?”
“I—” I stop short as something catches my eye over his shoulder. A man in a black and gold wolf’s mask. He is tall and his shoulders are broad. Dressed in a green that matches my dress, with black pants and boots, his outfit does little to hide his heavily muscled form beneath. He moves through the crowd with the preternatural grace of a predator. He has short dark hair and his piercing green eyes meet mine, and I inhale sharply at the flash of recognition.
Malak.
“No,” I whisper, more to myself than to anyone else.
“No?” Duran asks incredulously. “What on earth are you saying?”
I turn my attention back to him. “Not you,” I say quickly and his head jerks back. “What I mean is… I was speaking of something else.”
His brow furrows deeply. “Something else?”
I look back over his shoulder, but the man is gone. Frantically, I scan the crowd, wondering if I’m going mad. Or perhaps it’s the drink already affecting me. I’ve never had a high tolerance for wine or mead.
“Luna?” Prince Duren says, drawing my attention back to his frowning features. “Are you all right?”
Maybe it’s that my bodice is too tight and it’s making me delusional. I nod. “I—I think I need to get some fresh air,” I tell him.
He nods and starts to guide me outside, but I stop him. “I’ll only be a moment.” I offer him a warm smile. “You should enjoy yourself, Prince Duren. I know how much you love dancing.”
A wide grin spreads across his face, and he kisses my hand. “Do not worry. It is you I will be thinking of when I am dancing.”
I plaster another smile on my face and then watch in relief as he slips back out onto the floor. In less than a second, he already has another partner. A woman with golden hair that matches his and a bright red dress with a neckline that seems far too revealing to be proper.
Turning away, I push open the doors and step outside into the gardens. I tug at my bodice, trying to loosen it a bit as I draw in several breaths. None of them are deep, however, no thanks to this suffocating dress, and I growl in frustration as I try to loosen it again to no avail.
Movement catches the corner of my eye, and I still. The hairs rise on the back of my neck as I lift my head and scan the garden. Something is watching me, but I do not know what or who.
Glowing green eyes blink at me from the darkness, and my mouth drops as a dark wolf comes into focus.
Without thinking, I start toward it, but it turns and heads for the back gate. “Wait!” I call out, and it glances over its shoulder but keeps going into the forest beyond.
“Wait!” I call out again, and it slows. “Are you—” The words get stuck in my throat, and I cannot speak as my heart hammers.
Gathering my skirts, I pick up my pace as I walk down the garden path toward it.
My pulse pounds in my ears, and I struggle to breathe as I hurry. My bodice feels as if it’s digging into my ribs and constricting my lungs with each hurried step, but I cannot stop as I keep my gaze fixed on the wolf.
“Malak?” I somehow force the word past my lips. “Is that you?”
