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Talon hesitated, his gaze darting from Arianna to Rion and back to Ellie. “This isn’t a good idea.”
Arianna agreed, but Ellie only shrugged. “We won’t know until we try.” She looked at Rion, whose knuckles were already white. “And Talon is the least of your worries. Arianna will be expected to have at least one dance with Niall.” Rion actually did growl at that. “See?” her sister said. “Better to get it all out here.”
Arianna wasn’t sure she remembered how to take a steady breath. They were erratic, coming in short bursts as she tried to process how the upcoming event might unfold.
Ellie started a music player and turned the sound low. She clapped her hands together, startling Arianna. “All right.” Her gaze turned expectantly to Talon. He sighed and finally pushed off the wall. Rion didn’t move. He was too busy studying Talon, roaming over every inch of the male as if assessing a threat.
But Talon wasn’t a threat. He never had been.
Her friend stopped a few feet away, still looking like he thought this was as much of a bad idea as she did.
Rion’s chest rose and fell, his shoulders pensive and muscles tight. She could cancel the ball. She could ask them to wait, but how much time would be enough? Arianna owed her life to those who’d died before her. To the many she hadn’t been able to save. It was time to stop waiting.
Arianna exhaled, trying to let the tension fall from her shoulders, then she rested a hand on Rion’s arm. “She’s right. We need to practice.”
Arianna sensed his reluctance warring with the need to please her. And though it felt like it took every ounce of his restraint, Rion stepped back. He squeezed her hand once before releasing her, then stood beside Ellie.
Arianna struggled to pull her eyes away from her mate, then she turned to face Talon with a half-smile.
“Just like old times?” she asked.
He smirked and offered his hand. The other circled her back and she stiffened, afraid her friend might feel her scars through the thin fabric.
“You’re just as tense as he is,” Talon said, pulling her through movements so familiar they were second nature.
“Watch their feet,” Ellie instructed Rion.
“Sorry,” Arianna said, willing her body to relax. She didn’t scent any anger from Talon. Good. He didn’t need to know. No one did.
“All right,” Ellie said, stepping forward to interrupt them. “Now, let’s get Rion in on this.” Ellie stood beside Arianna, then raised her arms and looked at Rion as if she expected—holy gods above.
Rion eyed the trio, his gaze still locked on Talon before he crept toward Ellie.
“Technically your hand can go anywhere between the woman’s hip and her shoulder blade. Whatever feels comfortable for you. Your other hand will take my free one.” Rion looked at Ellie then, suddenly seeming to realize what she expected of him.
He stepped toward her and grains of sand eased out from beneath his tunic. Talon stiffened as the magic crawled down Rion’s arms and covered his hands to create a barrier between himself and Ellie.
Ellie didn’t react to it at all. Didn’t so much as flinch as she took Rion’s hand in her own.
Arianna wouldn’t call what shot down the bond fear. More like uncertainty as he watched both Ellie and Talon for various reasons.
“The male leads,” Ellie said, “but if you forget, just let Arianna guide you.” Ellie lightly kicked his foot. “Think of dancing as its own fighting form. It’s a push and pull between two bodies, just like a battle.” Ellie stepped and Rion moved with her. “Good.”
The morning wore on one step at a time. Her mate didn’t grow frustrated or seek reassurance. He simply moved and absorbed the information so fast, Arianna couldn’t help feeling a touch jealous.
He asked a question here and there and they reset back to the beginning a lot, but he was learning. Day one and Rion was actually learning the first part of the dance.
They only had two weeks to prepare, but grim thoughts took root as she remembered she’d be expected to dance with ambassadors to the other nations.
And suddenly Arianna wondered if her mother’s murderer would be attending the ball.
Chapter Twenty-six
Arianna
“Absolutely not,” Niall said as they strolled through the manor two days later. “We confirmed with Fiadh’s High Lord that his son was the only one responsible for what happened in Móirín. It was his plan that resulted in Lady Lillian’s death. The High Lord claims he hasn’t had contact with that son since the war began.”
“Claims,” Rion said. “Which means you didn’t speak with him directly.”
