Page 42 of Caged By Dance and Desire

“Then I'll eat one of your mother’s swans.”

“Also an empty promise. The last time you made the attempt, she had you crucified.”

“True. And her sense of humor hasn't notably improved.”

Likely because my mother had no sense of humor.

We’d all glimpsed Anah dancing before, but she hadn’t danced like that. She’d danced like a mortal. . .a beguiling mortal, a talented mortal who would make a cherished prize, but mortal.

Just now she’d danced as if she were Fae blooded.

I reframed my thoughts, scanning the room to pinpoint any immediate threats. No one approached her, though there were plenty of looks. “We’ll let her have this night. As long as no one touches. Come, I need a drink.”

Dancing resumed, Anah glancing toward one of her friends. Good. They would keep her occupied while I soothed my nerves. She stomped on every last one, dainty soles covered in spikes.

Suspicion grew, but I wouldn’t act until I spoke to Issahelle. Humans wielded magic, though it was rare, but I didn't think Anah had magic so much as she was magic.

There was a word for that sub-species of Fae.

She'd enthralled me that first evening I'd set eyes on her, this steadily increasing obsession with everything Anah, but I'd blamed the soulbond.

But was it the soulbond, or was it simply her?

With this one impromptu performance she'd skyrocketed her worth, and once it was widely known she belonged to me, I'd receive courteous offers, then less courteous challenges. I’d warn my mother to expect a feeding frenzy. She wouldn’t be pleased by the bloodshed at the beginning of her season, but I’d remind her it would drive ticket sales and attract new patrons. If we cultivated Anah properly, she’d make the House a great deal of money. Damnit.

I should be pleased for her, but she didn’t need any more leverage over me than she already possessed. This was not to be tolerated. I’d regain control, somehow, but it would take time and study. I would have to be subtle, avoid damaging her. Which meant baiting a much prettier cage, the leash as soft as a butterfly wing and invisible. A cage she walked into willingly.

Yes, a lover’s no should mean something. But I had no intention of that word ever falling from her lips.

“You’re going to need an entire bottle,” Constin said when we reached the bar.

A bottle? Amusing. I’d had to open my mouth and ask the Darkness for a challenge.

“I’m going to need a case,” I said. “Where is Mathen?”

“Tracking Dartanyon. We lost sight of him—shit. Andreien, don’t turn. I’ll handle this.”

I pivoted, gaze zeroing in on Hasannah. Dartanyon danced with her. I cursed viciously, startling another person near us, and began striding through the crowd.

“I left her alone for five minutes.Fiveminutes. Assign her two more quads and—thatcarrion feeder. I'lltear his entrails out through his nose.”

The people closest to me scattered.

Dartanyon pulled her close, his hands moving low enough to justify being twisted off at the joints. His House would send a Lord to challenge me to duel, or a barrister to the High Court to demand reparations, but it would be worth Issahelle’s wrath.

Not that mother’d be too upset. He was implicated in the disappearances of at least three dancers over as many decades, and there were rumors of the ballroom he kept in his estate.

I stopped and took several deep, quiet breaths to calm myself. Anah would be angry if I killed someone tonight.

The last dancer he’d patronized was no longer considered quite sane. Dartanyon had released the cavalier, but the male never performed on a Sahakian stage after that. The last I’d heard, he was some Low Fae merchant’s lovely, broken pet—such a distasteful practice. Only the clumsy or heavy-handed broke their toys. A modicum of self-control and one might keep one’s pet forever. The illogic baffled me. Or perhaps it was laziness; my Anah required a great deal of time and energy to maintain after all. If I were a lesser male, it might become exhausting overtime. But then I could always throw Mat or Con at her when I needed rest.

Dartanyon smiled down at her, and the ground I’d gained in the last minute of pleasant thought evaporated. A hiss started deep in my chest.

Constin grabbed my arm, nails digging into my bicep though his expression remained easy.

“Gently. This isn't the place. Wait until we can corner him in a nice dark alley where our cygnet isn't watching—and disembowel him there. She still thinks you're secretly a good boy who only needs to be shown the power of love.”

“She doesn't think that. Where do you come up with this drivel?”

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