Page 67 of Untamed

Something about the evening didn’t feel right. Many of the same faces as the previous night took their seats. Happy conversations abounded, and it seemed that Cosme had achieved some success in his objective. Perhaps it was that all seemed too perfect for a king who planned to betray us.

Energy trickled along my arms, swirling through the markings on my skin. This proved an excellent time to gather information by whatever means possible. After all, that’s why we’d traveled to Aracibel. Tingles slipped along my forearms and graced my knuckles. The glow remained faint and under control.

Hadn’t Uncle Uly said I could shape emotions? I just needed to stay levelheaded and calm. An invisible connection formed between Cosme and me, but then an invisible string also latched onto Monserrat. Bitter heat trembled from her. Then, Laude, Jaime, and Zichri had their own lines.

Servants marched around the tables, setting bowls of soup before each of the guests, leaving all sorts of emotions in their wake.

My head pounded with an overwhelming torrent of information. I curled my fingers, nails biting my palms. Even so, the waves of words, anger, disappointment, excitement churned within my chest like a boiling pot of stew.

“Beloved,” Zichri’s brows furrowed with concern, “is all well?” He eyed my fists, and an emotion swept over his expression. The faint lick of his worry trickled into my mind with a whisper:She’s using her gift.

“I can master this.” The words escaped my mouth.

He reached for my hand, but I scooted it away. What if I hurt him or someone else?

Zichri sipped hisbacalaosoup. The dinner continued like a dance between servants delivering and collecting dishes; laughter, eating, and the strum of jovial melodies plucked across the room. Feelings and scattered words pressed through me, making it impossible to distinguish which emotion belonged to whom.

No amount of encouragement from Zichri settled the nerves that were building up under my ribcage. And Cosme continued to sit stiffly beside his possible future bride with lackluster enthusiasm. I hadn’t attained useful information about him, or anyone for that matter. By the time I finished the last bite of the famedCrema Aracibelcustard, I couldn’t think past the flow of murmurs overfilling my head.

Beads of sweat built up around my hairline and upper lip. I maintained rod straight posture and curled my toes in the pointy boots suffocating my feet.

Zichri smashed his lips together, but he needn’t say a word. Concern burbled through the invisible connection like an overfull cup that sloshed with every slight movement.

I stretched a practiced smile, trying to assuage his worries.

“After the royal promenade, I believe I owe you a dance.” Zichri covered my hand with his.

Warmth rushed through me. Heart pounding. Thoughts swimming. My lungs took in one long gulp of air, yet the connection between me and two dozen or more people wouldn’t sever. “I’d like that.” My voice came out raspy.

Oh, Ancient One! Please stop the connection between me and the others. What if I hurt someone? I promise, I didn’t mean it for harm.

A servant opened the balcony doors, and a sea breeze touched my clammy neck. I continued to pray through the entire dancedone by the king and queen. The moment the couple returned to their high table, seats scraped backward across the room and beside me. Zichri stood and adjusted the bottom of his doublet. He extended his hand in an invitation for me to stand beside him, and I slipped into his grasp.

The moment should have been a delight, but my skin crawled with every connection and the threat of the letters. We strode onto the dance floor, and he spun me into position. Zichri slipped one hand on the small of my back and lifted my other toward the arched ceiling. A few strums of a guiterna indicated the traditionalpasoGiddelian would be next. We held our close position with Zichri leading the steps, and my neck tilted up to meet his caring gaze bordered by long lashes. The exact sentiment glowing on his face vibrated through his being along with a whisper:Beautiful.

I blushed. His emotion-filled thoughts should have been private, but I drank in the sincerity in his gaze and reveled in how much I could trust him.

Zichri grinned so wide his gums were exposed. “Keep looking up at me like that, and I might have to beg your papá for a quick wedding.”

I let out an airy laugh. “Isn’t that what you did already?”

“Yes, but it’s taking too long to get a treaty.”

My voice pitched low with the question I’d been desperate to ask. “Is your papá gravely ill?”

The music began. My feet moved on instinct, and Zichri’s firm grasp kept me shifting in the right direction.

“Yes.” Zichri’s tone dampened as he continued to guide my movements. “Papá isn’t himself, and my oldest brother can barely keep control of Himzo. A powerful faction declared that they’ll follow my second brother, Hugo, instead of my eldest, Agustín. I’m forced into hiding because they assume I wantpower like my brothers. I’m a threat.” He turned my hips and put pressure against my back.

My feet moved in the expected spin. “I didn’t know it was so bad. You seemed ever hopeful.”

“These aren’t the types of things easily shared in a letter.”

“How else am I to get information if you won’t write it?”

His eyebrows drooped in apology, and pain wilted his lips.

I moved my thumb over his shoulder to comfort him when it dawned on me that my skin appeared dull. My grip had tamed the powers within me again. The dance must have distracted me enough to disconnect.

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