Page 141 of Glow of the Everflame

“Sorry,” I said to Jean with a shrug. “I wouldn’t be a very wise Queen if I ignored the counsel of my own High General.”

Jean glared at us both. “I guess my sister was right. We’ll see what you’re capable of soon enough—at the Challenging.”

ChapterTwenty-Eight

It turned out dancing wasn’t half bad.

Eleanor appointed herself master of my evening dance card, determined to keep me trapped and out of any more trouble. The end of each song brought her back to my side to swap out my partner and whisper instructions.

“Ask about his grandchildren and you won’t have to talk for the whole song.”

“Don’t mention carrots, it’s a sensitive subject.”

“Breathe through your mouth, she’s very nice but she smells like feet.”

The majority of Eleanor’s picks were much older Descended. Several I recognized as leaders of their Houses—no coincidence, I suspected. A long string of handsome young men pestered her while throwing hungry looks my way, but she waved them all off, to my grateful relief.

Hours flew by, and as the end of the evening neared, I felt as if I’d danced with nearly every person of importance in the room.

All but one.

After my run-in with Jean Hanoverre, Luther reunited me with Perthe and gave him a scathing lecture about my penchant for wandering off alone, then stalked away before either of us could speak. By the time I spied him tucked into a shadow near the stage, I was stuck on the dance floor, stealing glances between spins and dips, greetings and goodbyes.

Even at a distance, we were somehow connected. Every time I looked his way, his pale eyes were locked on me as if I were the only object of interest in the room.

Taran and Alixe eventually joined his vigil, the three of them whispering as they stood guard. Occasionally, I spied a woman approach Luther for a dance, and more than a few times, that woman was Iléana. He only relented once—a turn with Lily to a fun, jaunty tune that had our shoulders brushing in passing and the brief escape of a smile on his lips.

When the crowd grew thin, Eleanor filled in the rest of my dance card with her own name. We grabbed Lily and careened across the room, laughing until our sides ached. Although Henri and the Guardians were never far from my mind, I gave myself permission to have fun for this one fleeting moment, all too aware that my life might not have many more chances at happiness left.

One of the musicians stepped forward to kiss my hand and accept my gushing praise, and he announced to the room the next song would be their last.

My eyes snapped to where Luther had been standing. Taran was throwing his arm around a reluctant-looking Alixe and hauling her toward the dance floor with a downright evil grin, but Luther had vanished.

“Diem, dear,” Aemonn crowed loudly. He flipped the edges of his cape, molting feathers flying in a cloud behind him. “How blessed I have been to spend this evening at your side.”

I shoved down the sting of disappointment and tried to muster a smile.

Aemonn extended his hand out to me. “Let us honor your reign by finishing this night as it began—together.” He paused at the center of the dance floor and twitched his fingers in a beckoning motion. “Come.”

My teeth ground together at beingsummonedlike a dog to heel. I tried to remind myself that everything about this night had been a calculated performance, and this was no different. I swallowed down my pride and started toward him.

“Honey,” he crooned, “may this be the first of many evenings we spend as—”

A brooding shadow slid into my path.

“My Queen. A dance?”

Luther held out his palm, and my heart thundered. My hand was in his before I could think through the wisdom of so publicly snubbing Aemonn for the man he hated most.

Luther wove his fingers through mine and nestled our joined hands close to his chest. His other hand pressed high on my back, gently coiling me in until my soft curves melted into his hard lines, then slid beneath my hair so his fingers brushed against my skin.

His touch was the changing of the seasons, the dead, cold grey of winter thawing and giving way to the colorful hope of spring. The promise of something new, something exquisitelyalive.

It’s just lust, I told myself.Physical attraction. You’re lonely, and he’s... very pretty to look at. Nothing more. Itcan’tbe more.

The rest of the world seemed to fall away as we plunged into a spotlight of our own creation. The musicians, the crowd, the angry sputtering from Aemonn—even the room itself tucked behind a shadowy veil, leaving the Queen and her Prince, forged together as one.

Looking in his eyes was a gamble I was certain to lose, so I tucked my chin, my temple resting against his cheek. I hooked my other arm over his shoulder, and a shiver rippled through him as my fingers grazed the nape of his neck. The power of knowing how my touch affected him made me acutely aware of every place our skin connected.

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