Page 58 of The Exile's Curse

Chloe set her teeth and turned to find Lucien standing behind her. She dipped a curtsy automatically. "Lord Castaigne."

He bowed in turn. "Lady de Montesse. Lady Katiya. I'm reliably informed my services are required?" He was smiling, but it was slightly wary to Chloe’s eye.

"I want to learn how to waltz," Katiya said. "Would you and Chloe be so kind as to demonstrate? I understand our musicians know some suitable music."

They did? Chloe hid a sigh. Definitely planned, if Katiya had gone to the trouble of making sure the band could play Illvyan waltzes. And Mikvel would have to have agreed. As much as he adored Katiya, he wouldn’t indulge her if there wasn’t some benefit to the crown. So, matchmaking or politics? A way to show that the king and queen were forward-thinking? Or show that the Illvyans were scandalous and not to be trusted? Hopefully the former.

Chloe thought Lucien was no more pleased by the proposition than she was. But he, like her, was not letting that show. "Of course, Lady Katiya. Now?"

"While the court catches their breath, yes," Katiya said. "You'll have everybody's attention."

A muscle flickered in Lucien's jaw. No doubt he was analyzing the situation, too. But he merely bowed again, then offered Chloe his arm. "Shall we dance, then, Lady de Montesse?"

She forced a smile. "My pleasure, my lord."

The musicians, forewarned it seemed, were just taking their seats again as she and Lucien reached the center of the dance floor. The babble of conversation filling the room faded away. Not to the complete eerie silence that had greeted them in the King's Hearth, but they plainly had the court’s attention.

"It seems we have become the evening's entertainment, my lord,” she said, still smiling and pitching her voice in a low ballroom tone she knew wouldn't carry far.

"Then we shall put on a show, my lady," Lucien said. "I will try to keep this as short as possible, but I expect we won't get away with just one dance."

"I'm sure I'll survive," she said. "And we should start or they'll think we're arguing. Are you going to give some instruction as we dance?"

He shook his head, a smile flashing briefly. "I don't feel like bellowing like a drill sergeant. Let them figure it out. It's not overly complicated, after all."

That was a matter of opinion. On the surface, a waltz was simple . An ability to keep to a count of three and follow one's partner were the main requirements. But there were a thousand tiny subtleties that could be communicated through the touch of a hand on one's waist or fingers or the precise distance held between the dancers’ bodies. In the arms of the right man, a waltz could be a seduction. Indeed, the first dance she'd ever had with Charl had been a waltz. After that, she'd tumbled into love like a fool.

She was safe from that tonight. "Then let us get this over with. Unless you want me to lead?" It was an old joke that tipped off her tongue before she could stop it.

Lucien's eyes widened a fraction, but then he grinned. "Trust me, my lady. I'm more than capable of taking you where you need to go."

He nodded at the musicians and settled his hand on her waist, the clasp of it firm and familiar. Out of options, she placed her other hand in his and let him whirl her into motion.

It was strange at first, and awkward, as it had been back at Imogene's.

Not so much the shock of the unexpected but the fact that she was once again dancing with Lucien in a room full of people, drawing attention she didn't want. But to avoid fanning that attention into something worse, she needed to behave as she would with any other partner. So she smiled and looked into his eyes as though he was no different to any other man.

He smiled, too, the expression polite. But his eyes were less so. Before, when they’d danced, they'd talked and joked and laughed, and she'd never spent much time gazing into his eyes. Never noticed the gold flecks dancing amongst the green. Never noticed quite how thick his eyelashes were up close or that the outer rim of his pupil was circled with a green like the shadow beneath a moonlit leaf. A green so deep it might as well be black. A wild shade, capturing her attention.

Suddenly, there was no room, no other people. There was only the weight of his hand on her waist, so clear she fancied she felt each individual finger curled against her though the layers of fabric beneath them should make that impossible. His hand over hers was firm, his skin warm, and she swayed into his hold, moving a fraction closer unbidden.

His pupils flared, the green more intense. Her face was hot, and she knew she couldn't blame the dance. Nor was it responsible for the racing beat of her heart. No, something else drove her pulse and the sudden hum of heat over her skin. She wanted. Wanted in a way she hadn't for quite some time. In a way she couldn't wanthim.

Not Lucien. Not with all that lay between them.

She tried to pull away slightly, but he held her firm, as though he knew what she was thinking.Please, Goddess,she hoped he did not. He wouldn’t use his power on her, couldn’t if she wasn’t speaking, but he knew her well, this man. Too well and not well enough. But he didn't let her go and he didn't let her falter, though she was suddenly afraid that the whirl of her feet and her mind might combine to send her stumbling.

He held her safe. Held her fast. While her world shattered and reformed and she fought for resolve.

Not this man.

Never him.

Her body might yearn, but she was not that young, foolish girl anymore, and he was the last man alive she would take into her bed, let alone her heart. Or so she told herself as they danced together as easily as if they shared a mind. Or a heart. Or a body.

Charl had been a good dancer. Lucien, tonight, was perfect.

But it was an illusion. One that had nothing to do with his magic and everything to do with reality. She would dance with him, but the music would stop and she would let go of his hand and step away. Would forget a moment of madness.

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