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“Do not stop on my account, Sir Laurince,” Kallie said, tipping her head before biting a slightly smaller portion of potatoes.
Laurince’s shoulders relaxed. Chuckling, he looked past Kallie and at Rian. “Have I mentioned I like her, My King?”
Rian cocked his head, amusement licking his lips. “You might have mentioned that once or twice.” Rian leaned toward Kallie. “He might have also mentioned something about you being pretty, Princess Kalisandre.”
“Is that so?” Kallie asked, smirking at Laurince.
“I—” Laurince pointed his fork at Rian. “Do not lie. It was only in agreement withyourcomment, My King.”
Kallie turned to Rian, a single brow raised as the king’s cheeks turned red, matching his hair.
Rian coughed and focused driving his knife through the venison on his plate. “I cannot possibly recall everything I say.”
The knife dragged along the plate, producing a high-pitched screeching noise, and his cheeks reddened even more.
Beneath the table, Kallie placed a gentle hand on Rian’s. She leaned closer to him and whispered, “I don’t find you too bad to look at either, My King.”
The little bump in the center of his throat bobbed.
Kallie sat back in her chair, pleased with the king’s reaction. Yet when she looked at her plate, the assortment of food looked unappetizing. And the sensation of someone watching her still hadn’t disappeared.
* * *
With dinner having comeand gone, Kallie now stood in the center of the room.
Rian nodded to her once with a small, polite grin. There was no heat behind his gaze, no concern. Nothing but order and control lay beneath those brown eyes. Without another word, the king abandoned her and returned to his seat.
Kallie knotted her fingers together in an attempt to steady them. She should have been more relaxed than she was. Her father was not here to add unnecessary stress, yet her gut still twisted.
Hands behind her back, Kallie swept her gaze across the room as chairs scratched against the floor. Lystrata had prepared Kallie for tonight’s event, yet it was strange seeing the group of men circle her. The coveted Last Dance was the final chance for a man to demand a dance from the bride before she bound herself to one partner for the rest of her life. A Frenzian tradition, Lystrata had explained. According to the Frenzian ancestors, dancing was an intimate act. To follow your partner’s footsteps and anticipate their movements, one must be intimately familiar with their partner. When two people danced, breaths were exchanged, rhythms synced, and bodies read. Centuries ago, if a married woman were to dance with a man who was not her husband, the woman would have been questioned. To the Frenzians, your dance partner was your life partner.
Although Kallie disagreed with the tradition’s history, she would let the so-called Last Dance commence. But she would do so with a grimace hidden beneath the smile plastered on her face. This tradition wasn’t just to remind the bride to be faithful but to remind her of where her position was. Because as she stood in the center of a circle of seven men, she was a deer in the middle of a pack of wolves.
Among the men in the circle was a representative from each kingdom of Vaneria, except Pontia, of course. The Frenzians had put forth two men in exchange for a Pontian representative. Laurince stood with a welcoming smile. In contrast, Sebastian stood beside him, his head tilted up and a slimy smirk on his face. Sebastian’s gaze slithered over her. His gaze was a little too eager, too excited as he stood in the circle of men.
Kallie dragged her attention away from him.
Representing Kadia in the circle was Trenton, the cousin of King Valrys, who could not participate himself since he was already spoken for. Then there was one of the Borganian princes, Lucien. Next to him was Jaxcyn, an Ardentolian lord whom Kallie became acquainted with after one of her father’s assignments to settle a dispute over some land. The second to last man in the circle was a stranger.
The man arched a brow when Kallie’s gaze met his. Based on the Ragolian crest on the man’s chest next to him, Kallie quickly deduced that this man was from Tetria. She vaguely recalled him standing at the table with the Tetrian princess.
Kallie tilted her head in question. She had always been told that women made up the majority of the Tetrian guard. Were the princess’ personal guards an exception, Kallie wondered.
The man’s features were unremarkable. Everything about him was average: his hair, his jaw, his height. Although she gave the man some credit for confidence dripped off him. Even as princes, high lords, and a highly decorated king’s guard stood around him, the Tetrian man, who wore no badges of honor on his chest, kept his chin high.
Across the dance floor, Rian raised his glass to her, then tipped his head at the musicians.
The band started playing, the song’s introduction slow. It was Kallie’s signal. Because even though this tradition was an opportunity for the men to have their last chance to dance with her, it was Kallie’s dance to start. One thing she was thankful for.
Kallie smirked, her hips swaying in the air. She sauntered around the inner edge of the circle, her dress sweeping across the floor. Dancing was the closest thing to fighting a princess could publicly partake in without ridicule. Like sword fighting, dancing was a battle between bodies.
Her old instructor’s words echoed in the back of her mind:You must read your partner’s movements and anticipate their next move, lest you wish to ruin the magic of the performance.
Kallie approached the first dance partner of her choosing: Laurince.
Laurince bowed before stepping out of the circle and taking her hand. “Lady Kalisandre.”
“Sir Laurince,” Kallie said, smiling.
