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It was perhaps the coldest night yet this year, but the field was so full I could already feel the heat and desire to lose my cloak. Most of the Lumerians dancing had done so already, and their bare arms, and in some cases legs, had a reddish tint from the crackling bonfires.
Bellamy, Tristan’s escort, emerged from the crowd walking toward me along with a second Ka Grey mage I didn’t recognize. Tristan strolled between them before rushing ahead to my side, squeezing my hand and pulling it to his lips, the only part of his face that remained uncovered by his akadim mask.
Our party moved deeper into the crowd, which easily parted for us and our escorts.
I only stumbled a little before I adjusted to the darkness of the night, the uneven terrain of the field, and the wine coursing through my veins. Tristan grabbed my arm to steady me as we made our way into the party’s center, clearly on display, all eyes on us. The moment we could be sure we’d been seen and noted, we dispersed. A mage named Brandon I’d seen at a few noble functions over the years walked boldly toward us. Morgana pushed her mask back and grinned before grabbing his arm.
Aren’t you meeting Terra?
She smiled wider and nodded, then pulled Brandon off to a cluster of trees bordering the party. I caught a flash of silver—one of her escorts following.
I grimaced, but Morgana had never particularly seemed to care about privacy. Although, from the looks of it, it wasn’t her escort I needed to worry about. A group of mages, obviously eyeing Morgana’s retreating form, was talking loudly in disgust.
“She’s always been an Asherah,” one said.
“Disgusting.”
My pulse spiked, my mind immediately racing to figure out how to spin the situation, how to draw attention back to me.
I tossed my hair over my shoulder, pulling my mask up and shifting my stance so the slits of my dress revealed the full expanse of my legs. The slits were so high I’d had to tie the bows of my underwear up around my waist. But it was a cheap trick, and no one cared about my legs. I could start kissing Tristan, but our courtship had been so publicized for so long our kisses were no longer newsworthy. My only choices were to publicly slap him or fuck him, and I definitely didn’t have plans to do either.
I took a deep breath. I needed to get a grip. Better they were scandalized over Morgana’s sex life than they came to any other conclusion. That had been our stance since she’d started to sleep around after revealing her vorakh.
Meera frowned in concern. She still looked so tired and weak as she was absorbed by her own group of friends, mostly quiet yet high-ranking nobles related to members of the Bamarian Council. The observers turned their attention on Meera. I tensed, watching them watch her, and grabbed my wrist, my hand twitching over my blood oaths.
Fuck. I had to relax. Meera always got tons of attention in public as the Heir Apparent. I forgot this sometimes due to how little she’d left Cresthaven over the last two years.
I entwined my fingers with Tristan’s. “Dance with me.”
We weren’t far from the dance floor. Mages had spelled it to float nearly fifteen feet in the air. Dark clouds surrounded the edges of the floor, creating the illusion of dancers twirling across the sky. Thin staircases cascaded down from each corner of the floor. I grabbed Tristan, dragging him to the steps, and we climbed up, his hand steady on the small of my back.
The drums beat, the music earthy and sensual. I pulled Tristan close, centering us in the middle of the crowd—making sure I could easily see over the entire field, see Meera.
Our hands linked, then our bodies, undulating to the music. Torches crackled and smoke snaked into the blinking lights of the cold night’s twinkling stars. I threw my hands up, as the drums grew louder and the tempo increased. My dance training kicked in, and I closed my eyes, quieting my mind, releasing my body in a way I hadn’t let myself in years, allowing myself to just feel the music, to let it move me. My body felt so different than it had the last time I’d danced like this with Tristan. I was stronger, surer of my footing and every move. Every roll, step, and shake felt so good. Each step was backed by muscle and strength that hadn’t been there before. My hips rolled as Tristan tightened his grip on me.
I closed my eyes, feeling Rhyan’s hand digging into my flesh, Rhyan’s hips bucking against mine, rolling in circles, grinding against me, his lips against mine, his fingers untying….
Fuck. I needed to clear my head. Rhyan was all I could think about. Without realizing it, I’d spent the past few minutes looking for him. Aemon had ordered Rhyan to guard me tonight, but he hadn’t shown up at Cresthaven, which meant his security detail tonight would keep him bound to Urtavia.
Unless…unless he’d been sent at the last moment on another hunting expedition to Elyria or wherever the akadim packs were currently roaming.
I glanced beyond the stage, desperate to catch sight of him. I peered at the different bodies of soturi all camouflaged to be unseen, looking for the outline of simple black armor.
But Rhyan was nowhere in sight.
Tristan eyed me carefully through his akadim mask, pulling me back to him. “Who caught your attention, your grace?”
“Galen and Haleika,” I blurted out. They danced on the other side of the floor, their bodies tangled together. Haleika tossed her head back in laughter. Her bouncy brown curls were unmistakable despite the grotesque mask she’d chosen to wear.
Galen brushed a loose curl from her cheek, hand gripping her waist to pull her close. She arched back, and his lips grazed against the curve of her neck.
Just beyond the dance floor watching Haleika openly was Leander.
I began searching again for a sign of Rhyan, for a glimpse of his golden-brown hair, for the silver of the scar across his eye, for the slope of his northern-issued boots. But noticing Tristan’s eyes on me, I focused back on our friends.
“Seems they’re ready to take it up a notch.” He raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t we have a bet going? I can’t remember now if I lost or you did, but I’m pretty sure one of us owes the other something.”
“Like this?” I asked and drew Tristan’s mouth to mine. My blood pulsed. His hand slid down my back, squeezing my thigh, lifting my leg around his hip as the drums grew louder.
