Page 87 of Bloodguard

“She’s not used to wearing underwear,” Leith whispers.

“Thank you for sharing.”

Neela accompanies Father on her violin. My sweet estrellas bounce along the furniture to the beat of the music, chittering away and enjoying the fun.

In the corner, Giselle sits on a stool, flipping through pages of music.

“It must be hard turning those pages wearing those leather gloves,” Leith says.

“Mm,” I say, hoping he doesn’t press for more.

Caelen whispers to Giselle, and she looks up at us and grins. She abandons the pages and heads our way with Caelen shadowing.

Leith and Caelen more or less growl at each other in a way of a greeting. Giselle beams. “You boys are going to be best friends,” she says. “I can feel it.”

Another exchange of growls. Aren’t they fun?

Giselle grabs my hand and pulls me closer to the dance floor. She grins at me. It’s a forced smile. She’s getting worse, and we both know it. But what plagues her is beyond my abilities.

Giselle spins us back toward Pega and Sonu, adjusting her gloves when she stops. “Pega, be a dear and ask Maeve to dance?”

“You want me to dance?” Pega points a finger at me.“With her?”

I sigh. “Believe me, I’m equally thrilled by the idea,” I reply.

The rotten little fox I call my sister shoves me against Pega. She catches me, curses, and drags me onto the dance floor, in the same manner she would an old goat that broke free of his pen.

Pega places her hand lightly—well, lightly for someone of her strength—on my waist, eyes level with my chest, and her other hand takes my own. I place my palm on her shoulder. Like with Giselle, I tower over her, but unlike Giselle, this dwarf would break me in half if I irked her.

I mean to see how Leith is doing, but for this moment, I can’t. I’m too taken by Giselle and Caelen. Her smile slowly vanishes as the distinguished soldier regards her with unmitigated affection, taking a beat to fold her gloved fingers over his and press a gentle kiss to the back of her hand, his eyes never leaving hers. Ifeelher breath hitch as much as I see it, her attention dropping briefly to her knuckles before she returns her gaze to his sparkling irises.

With his careful hold and sweeping movements, Caelen makes certain Giselle knows thatsheis the exquisite beauty he’s honored to stand by. Caelen loves my sister, even if he knows he shouldn’t.

“This is wrong,” Pega says, looking down at our feet. “I think it’s you.”

She steps awkwardly back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. “What are you doing?” I ask, trying to match her movements.

She furrows her fuzzy yellow brows. “I’m making the square,” she says as if it’s obvious. “Musy ’splained that you’re supposed to dance like you’re trying to draw a square with your feet.”

Giselle and Caelen spin smoothly past us, her straight hair flowing like a flag in the breeze.

Pega scowls. “Don’t hate the dancers who can dance. Hate the dancer who told you to make a square,” Giselle teases.

She brushes the drooping side of her face, notices the flaky crust of an hors d’oeuvre, and licks it off. “You’re not doing your square correctly, and Musy wouldn’t lie about somethin’ like a square.”

“Says the gladiator whose legs don’t bend,” Giselle replies. “Did you forget you have knees?”

Leith prowls toward us. “May I?”

He smirks and closes the space between us as Pega steps away, clearly pleased to do so.

“I think it’s time I show you what a real gladiator can do,” he murmurs in my ear.

Pega flings her arms as if in pain from simply holding me. “Good luck,” she says to Leith. “She can’t dance worth shit.”

My body heats as I reach for Leith’s hand. “You’re not going to do that stupid square thing, are you?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

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