I turned back to the prince. He’d danced with thousands of women, had he? Or maybe just one woman thousands of times. Was that why he thought he was entitled to an opinion on my appearance? Did he think I’d fall over myself to compete with them? Just because he was handsome, just because he’d been kind? Or because he was a prince? Whatever the reason, my foolish fantasies were as dead as my world believed me to be.
Smiling slightly, he laid his hand on my waist. I stiffened, my spine going rigid. A poor start to any dance. I needed to be poised yet flexible. Liquid and solid at the same time. I forced my lungs to draw a deep, slow breath.
At the lightest pressure from his hand, we began to sway in time to the music, on the spot at first, but then he steered me into the steps, revolving us around one another. His eyes bore into mine, looking for all the world as though he was besotted with me. He was quite the actor, I’d give him that. Well, I could act too. Putting on a brave face was part of my job. I donned my mask, letting a wide smile spread across my face.
Anwir, with his free hand, lifted my arm, guiding me into a spin. My feet moved effortlessly as I turned, the stunning dress swishing around my legs as I extended my free hand, fingers poised, and stepped back into his hold.
I noted with pleasure the faint surprise on his face.
“What?” I whispered, smirking. “You think mortal girls can’t dance?”
I was picking up the rhythm now, starting to anticipate the swell and fall of the music, and the movement that went with it. Maybe I didn’t know the steps as well as I’d like, but my instincts merged with Anwir’s guidance, creating something passable, maybe even pretty.
Soon, I lost myself, my annoyance ebbing with the pulse of the music. My body responded to Anwir’s lead and the music’s guidance. Whatever imperfections lingered in my steps were surely masked by the swell of my skirt. We twirled around the dancefloor, my dress swishing magnificently, past a blur of faces almost as happy as my own.
All too soon, the music faded out, and Anwir steered me to a halt, bowing low. I curtsied on numb legs, my chest rising and falling breathlessly. Around us, the music began again and Anwir’s guests filled the floor around us, beginning the next dance.
The prince, however, stepped closer to me.
“That was… not terrible,” he said.
God, what had I ever seen in him? I kept my waspish tones to a minimum as I said, “Wow, you’d better stop there, or the praise will go to my head.”
He grinned. “I didn’t know you could dance.”
“You never asked. I used to be a figure skater, you know, on ice? It’s not so different to dancing, really.”
“Used to be?”
My fake smile became real but sad, accompanied by the tug of regret deep in my belly. My skating days were long gone, but I still missed them fiercely. Still couldn’t so much as look at a skin of ice forming on a puddle without suffering a stab of longing. “Injury. Broke my ankle when I was seventeen. I think my parents might have been secretly relieved. I was obsessed, and it was so expensive, but it was my only hobby, and they wanted to give me the best life they could. Even if they couldn’t afford it. But that fall was the end of my dream.”
“You could have a new dream,” he reminded me. “A better one.”
While becoming a queen was undoubtedly a more ambitious dream than being a professional figure skater, better wasn’t the word I would have chosen. The promise of untold riches, of fabulous dresses and diamonds the size of eggs, of eternal life, were undoubtedly tempting, and up until a few minutes ago, Anwir had been too. Not enough for me to consider marrying him, but certainly enough that I would have made a fool of myself. At least I could leave in the morning without regrets. Speaking of which, I wasn’t going to let an opinionated prince spoil my night. I would likely never have the chance to dance at a ball again, and I intended to make the most of it. Starting right now, with someone, anyone, else.
“I’m thirsty,” I lied, trying to sidestep Anwir.
His hand closed around mine, firm and unyielding, halting me in my tracks.
“I have a better idea.” With a sharp tug that sent a twinge of discomfort up my arm, he pulled me close again. “How about another dance?”
27I Hate Them Both
Anwir led me through four consecutive dances, leaving me breathless and flushed and increasingly irritated. Finally, he pulled me aside, weaving between still dancing couples and to the edge of the floor. With tender fingers completely at odds with the biting grip he’d maintained on my waist, the prince grazed a loose lock of hair back from my face, tucking it neatly behind my ear.
“We’ve put on quite a show,” he said with a smile, “but I should probably mingle with my guests. Go and enjoy yourself. This is a celebration of you, after all.”
Finally. “Okay.” I nodded, unhooking my hair and trying to pretend I was deeply disappointed to leave his side.
His grip on my hand tightened. “Just remember to make a good impression. It’s probably best to avoid the fairy wine. It’s… potent, and we don’t want any foolishness, tonight of all nights.”
So much for enjoying myself. What was a party without a glass of wine? “I’ve already had a glass. It was fine.”
“What? Who gave it to you?” His face hardened as he scanned the crowds, as though searching for some imagined assailant.
“Relax, I had a few sips while I was getting ready.”
His lips thinned. “Well, no more. Trust me, I only want my people to think highly of you, and humans rarely behave well after a few glasses of wine.”
The last vestiges of my patience evaporated. Did he forget that the only reason I was here at all was because he’d begged me to deceive the people whose opinions he valued above mine? I fixed a simpering smile on my face. “Don’t worry about me. Go, mingle.”
Anwir kissed my hand again, and I fought the urge to snatch it out of his grasp. Without another word, he was gone, strolling through the crowd with his shoulders back and his head high. Everywhere he went, bright-eyed, hopeful faces turned in his direction. He paused here and there, bestowing a word or two to over-exuberant laughter. As charming as Anwir could be, he wasn’t exactly a comedian. Oh, the things people would fake for the powerful. Was it flattering or annoying to have everyone he ever met fall over themselves to please him? I’d seen a side of him tonight I didn’t like, and it left me in no doubt he was lapping up the admiration.
When I dragged my eyes away, it was to find myself surrounded by a gaggle of breathtakingly beautiful fae females, dressed in equally stunning gowns with quirky, elaborate details, all staring expectantly. The moment I noticed them, they rushed to curtsy, rising with eager smiles. Was this it? My opportunity to wow and amuse with the dullest of words?
“Lovely party,” I said, spotting a passing tray laden with fizzing wine. “Excuse me.”
I darted between their reluctantly parting shoulders and snagged a glass. The rim had barely touched my lips when I spotted a familiar head of dark hair.
Idris, loitering near a floral arrangement, held a crystal flute in each hand. I wouldn’t exactly call him a friendly face, but at least I knew him. I lifted my hem and hurried to his side.
“Hi.” I took a deep swig of fairy wine, grimacing at the bubbles exploding at the back of my throat.
Idris swayed as he turned to look at me, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. His misty gaze travelled from the hem of my gown, all the way to the tip of my tiara, before finally dropping to my face. He didn’t smile, never mind offer a compliment. Maybe this had been a bad idea.
The prince tipped the entire contents of one flute down his throat, gulping and grimacing. Judging by his unsteady stance, it was far from his first drink of the evening.
“Maybe you should slow down,” I suggested, instantly hating myself for it. “Anwir doesn’t want any foolishness.”
