Page 20 of Court of Secrets and Flames

Finally, the clinking of glasses heralds the end of the feast. King Jasper raises his chalice high. “To continued peace and prosperity.” His deep voice resonates through the grandeur of the ballroom. “And new friendships,” he adds, sneaking a glance at me.

Thanks, but no thanks.

Standing along with the other nobles, I feign a smile as we echo the toast and tip our goblets back. The potent drink heats my mouth and burns liquid fire down my throat. Once we finish, the king leads the procession into the adjacent great hall, where minstrels await with their instruments poised.

They weave an enchanting tapestry of melodies. If I weren’t trapped with an asshole king in the middle of an enemy kingdom, I might even enjoy myself.

The thought barely materializes before I sense a presence at my side. I whirl to find the king looming over me with anundecipherable gleam in his eyes that reminds me too much of his brother.

“May I have this dance?”

The words are proper enough, but I still fight not to roll my eyes. I doubt my refusal is on the table.

I smile and lie through my teeth. “It would be my honor, Your Majesty.”

The king takes my hand and leads us into the first dance. After a few moments of deference, other nobles pair up and join us.

The king’s steps are meticulous, each rotation executed with precision.

Step. Step. Quarter turn. Step. Arm out. Arm in. Step.

Much like dinner, I spend the entire dance on tenterhooks, waiting for the king to announce his reasons for this charade or spring a trap. Also much like dinner, I’m surprised and frustrated when the dance passes without any conversation beyond surface-level pleasantries. He asks if I enjoyed my meal. Which dish I liked the most. He even resorts to praising the fine weather lately.

As he spins me across the floor, I wonder if I can be executed for “accidentally” stomping on his toes.

The king handles me with surprising care and moves with grace. If not for the heat of his brother’s gaze burning into me from across the dance floor, I could almost let my mind wander and forget my surroundings.

Alas, Sterling renders a temporary escape impossible.

Finally, the song draws to its close. To my complete shock, Jasper leads me to Sterling.

Knox. Ugh. How long until his real name sinks in? Though I can hardly be blamed for struggling to remember. I swear, the man has more names than an entire small kingdom.

The king’s hands linger for a beat longer than is socially acceptable before he releases me. “Thank you, Lark. I have never enjoyed a dance or the company of a lady more. But I must beg your pardon for now.” His attention shifts to Knox. “Would you be so kind as to keep our esteemed guest entertained, little brother?”

Though posed as a question, it’s really a command. “Of course.”

If Sterling—Knox—resents bowing to his brother’s will, his face doesn’t show it.

As the king retreats, Knox offers me his hand. I want to put distance between us, to conjure up some excuse to sit this one out, but something in his warm eyes causes me to hesitate.

That’s all the encouragement he needs.

Knox grasps my hand with his, then splays his other hand around my hip.

“I’m tired.” More like exhausted.

His lips twitch. “Afraid you’ll enjoy yourself?”

Heat flares in my cheeks. “You wish.”

Not my best comeback, but I’m under duress.

The wicked gleam in his eyes makes me glad the music strikes up again, cutting off his reply.

Knox spins me onto the dance floor and folds me to him. We move as one, his confidence guiding us through the intricate steps. His touch is a whisper against my skin, kindling a flame that threatens to consume my composure.

I hate that I still long for him. How his touch still ignites a deep yearning inside me. If life were fair, his betrayal would render me incapable of wanting him.

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