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Being lost in this oblivion should feel vulnerable, but knowing Poet watched me only magnified the feelings. Even with my vision shrouded in darkness, I sensed him there with me. The ribbon tethered us, so that I wasn’t the only one affected.
***
This needed to stop. I had to compose myself, restrain myself, deny myself. We needed to regain control for the sake of his cause and both of our heads.
Tonight, I would disengage. I’d end this before it went too far. It would be better this way, safer and easier.
We would get over this.
***
In the great hall, the jester danced with daggers. His bare chest contorted, the cobbled muscles rippling as he flipped the weapons in his grip—upside down, right side up.
Without pausing to properly aim, Poet spun into a half circle. In one agile movement, his arm lashed out and executed a backhanded toss. The blade flew and struck a moving wooden board shaped like a shield and held aloft by a female who danced through the room. Costumed in a corset and slitted skirt, the dancer pirouetted on bare olive feet without flinching as the weapon hit its mark.
Poet jumped, his limbs scissoring the air. When he landed, another dagger punctured the center just before his partner twisted. Their movements flowed in sync, reflecting countless hours of training and trust.
The jester monopolized the attention of every living creature in the room. Their ravenous eyes sketched his form while those elastic abs stretched.
From my seat on the dais, I squeezed my drink. My chest burned with desire, teemed with pride, and stung with envy. Others wanted him, but this jester was mine.
For now, at least.
Once he’d deployed all his blades, Poet straightened and stepped back to a thunderous ovation. He swung his arm toward the female, giving her the spotlight as she curtsied like a gazelle, graceful and limber. Then he took her fingers, held them aloft, and inclined his head while they bowed in unison.
Afterward, Poet shrugged into a dark jacket trimmed in silver, which framed the brackets of his shoulders and hung open to exhibit his bare chest. Flushed and catching his breath, he toured the room, greeted me on the platform, and wordlessly raised a tankard in my direction.
Keeping my expression neutral, I inclined my head, which he took as an invitation to move on. Yet the sudden mood to provoke struck me with a vengeance.
“Wait a moment, Court Jester,” I called.
Poet halted, then rotated. “At your service, Princess.”
“Proper decorum requires you to bestow a few parting words.”
“And that would be?”
I took advantage of my status and prissy reputation. “You haven’t yet wished your superior a pleasant night.”
He raised a brow, then spread his arms in a show of mockery. “Have a pleasant night.”
My mouth crooked as he turned away once more. “Wait a moment.”
Slower this time, Poet rounded on me again. His visage reflected both intrigue and impatience.
I chose this moment carefully while everyone preoccupied themselves with racks of lamb and lively conversation. But although there was nothing amiss about this exchange, I sensed an exception—the flicker of someone’s attention on us.
Outwardly, I wasn’t flirting as others did with him. The best course of action was to ride out the scene as if I had nothing to apologize for.
“Inferiors also bow to their sovereigns before departing,” I stated with all the pretense of placid snobbery.
Those sinful lips twitched. With exaggerated finesse, Poet obliged me and then turned yet again.
“In addition—” my voice forced his booted feet to stall and his fingers to clamp around the tankard’s handle, “—I should like inferiors to observe standard protocol and to acknowledge me as a princess.Your Highness, as is customary. I’m not unreasonable in expecting you to address me thusly.”
With the pacing of a lion, Poet reeled toward me. A single, slender diamond cut through his left eye, the design shifting as his features transcended from accommodating to threatening.
He stalked to the dais, his measured steps drawing several pairs of eyes until he loomed over me, his shadow colliding with mine across the table. “Have a pleasant night, Your Highness,” he said while simultaneously falling into another bow.
