Page 38 of Caged By Dance and Desire

I cringed.

Maybe I could wheedle Constin into baking her some cupcakes.

The Cassanians didn't applaud, that wasn't their way. But when I stopped paying attention to Coralene and glanced out across the audience?—

“Yes,” she said. “You're very, very lucky you have protection or tonight would be a feeding frenzy. I haven’t quite decided what you are, but you’re something. . .the High Fae tend to tear disputed toys apart by the limbs.”

She walked away, not looking back.

“Would you dance with me, Hasannah?” a familiar voice said behind me.

I turned, and the Rose Lord bowed. His hair was set in waves tonight, still the blush pink with dove gray strands. He wore dusky lavender and black, setting off his coloring.

“I—”

“Oh, do not refuse me. That would make me sad.”

I displayed my teeth. “Of course not.” Mistress Vargas would be watching.

The music began again and we danced, the Lord's hands in the correct position though he pulled me a little too close.

“That was an exquisite showing,” he said. “But you still held back.”

“I don't want to risk an injury before the showcase.”

“Others will wish to speak and dance with you as well. I don't think we've had a mortal with your spark in a hundred years. Not since. . .curious that your Lord abandoned you. He should take better care.”

“I don't have a Lord,” I said. “If you mean my date for the evening, he hasn't abandoned me.”

The Rose Lord smiled, though the expression didn't change the shape of his eyes. It did change their expression, and not for the better. If I’d never believed in ghosts before, now I did. I almost recoiled.

“That's two lies he's allowed you to believe are truth. Or perhaps it is truth? Humans have a saying—some kind of adage, about soap and slippery fingers?”

I was too well-trained to stiffen in his arms, but I didn't like the meaning of his words. Especially when the mists in his eyes contained horrors I’d only experienced at the edges of sleep.

“The complication that always comes with claiming a mortal of some interest to others,” he continued in his low, friendly voice, “is that you can only keep what you claim if you're strong enough to prevent it from trickling from your grasp. Were you mine, little dancer, I wouldn’t allow you to leave my side. I would never make that mistake again. Not in this company. Look around you.”

I broke eye contact to take his suggestion, giving the room a quick glance, and noted too many eyes staring or giving us a casual glance before turning away.

Too much attention.

“I have seen you before and I know what you are,” the Rose Lord said, “but your. . .date. . .is simpleminded.”

He halted and lowered his head to my neck, inhaling, and I gasped in outrage, trying to pull away because I associated that kind of thing now with Andrei and intimacy.

His grip tightened, and I wouldn't be able to break it without causing a scene. I ground my teeth.

“I almost didn't recognize his scent on your skin. Almost.” He breathed another word, a name.

“Dartanyon.”

The Rose Lord straightened, looking over my shoulder, then took a slow step back, lifting his hands.

Andrei stepped to my side, wrapping fingers around my upper arm. The tension in that touch conveyed a clear command not to speak.

I closed my eyes. Wonderful. Rehearsals tomorrow were going to be wonderful. Coralene would be brimming with commentary. She always was.

“So, it's you who's claimed the girl,” Dartanyon said. “Silly of me not to recognize your taint earlier. But then you always have had a light touch.”

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