Page 72 of Fear the Flames
The last person I’m looking for is already gazing up at me from the bottom of the stairs. Meeting Cayden’s ardent eyes sends a shiver through me as I descend the steps closer to him. I’m practically floating. He looks more like a dark prince than a commander, standing there in an impeccable black tailored suit. The only pop of color comes from his lapels trimmed in emerald green and embroidered with the same gold vines that are on my dress. Saskia must have altered his jacket as well.
We match.
When my eyes make their way back to his face, I take in his parted lips and reverent eyes. Color has risen on the apples of his cheeks. I’m sure people have noticed the coordination between our outfits, but I don’t look at them to gauge their reactions because Cayden’s reaction to me is like a thorn-covered rose—beautiful, yet harmful. The more I fight the magnetic pull to him, the stronger it gets. I don’t understand how I can feel so close to someone when there are oceans between us. My hand slides into the one he stretches in my direction, and I’m not sure he registers what he’s doing when he brings my knuckles to his lips and places a chaste kiss. Fire licks at my skin. The room breaks out into applause, but my only focus is on the infuriatingly attractive commander in front of me. I don’t know when the switch happened, when my attraction became this powerful, but I need to learn to control it before it destroys everything we’re solidifying tonight.
“Beautiful.” His features are coated in a hypnotic trance before he blinks it away. I don’t think he meant to say that out loud. He straightens up, keeping my hand in his while interlocking our arms. “Welcome to the ball, your majesty.” His husky tone makes my toes curl.
“Have you read over the treaty?” I ask as we make our way through the parted crowd on the dancefloor. Ailliard brought me a copy before he escorted me from my room, and I left it on Cayden’s desk when I was done with it.
“I did. You got everything you wanted, right?” Nobody can hear us over the harmony the instruments produce.
“I did. You?” I inquire.
“You’re sweet tonight.” He keeps his face stoic, probably because all eyes are on us. “All I wanted was you too.”
I squeeze his arm to stop myself from either laughing or smacking him. That wouldn’t look good for us. The only people that understand our dynamic are Finnian, Saskia, and Ryder, who are probably shocked we can last this long next to each other without either of those things occurring.
“I’m surprised so many people came,” I observe. The ballroom is packed. I think the full population of Aestilian is close to the length of the guest list.
“Of course, they did.” He takes his eyes off the dais to glance toward me, “You look as enchanting as revenge.” Leave it to Cayden Veles to turn revenge into a compliment; it’s the perfect compliment. It’s one I understand because there’s nothing he wants more than revenge. My lips turn upward, but I’ve already been smiling into the crowd, so it’s not much of a shift. The only shift is the authenticity behind my smile.
“You look like a figment of wickedness,” I say. He truly looks like an evil prince coming to whisk me away into his realm of terror and tragedy. The cuts on his knuckles are still healing, but it just adds to his roguish flare. It’s a peek into what lies beneath his clean-cut clothes. He’s sin, temptation, and even lust wrapped into one package. I can tell he liked the compliment because the corner of his mouth has tipped up a minuscule amount, but he’ll never crack in front of a crowd. He never smiles unless it’s in private.
We walk past the dais and make our way up to a small platform where Eagor and Valia stand. Brown tree roots and vines twist together, forming a gazebo. Iron lanterns hang from the roots and cast a cozy yellow glow throughout the space. They take their seats when we reach the top, and the rest of the ballroom also filters to their tables. Cayden steps around me and pulls my chair out before taking the spot to my left.
Neither of us bows to them. Bowing means submitting, and I am inferior to no one.
“Elowen, my dear girl,” Valia greets me while fluffing her periwinkle gown around her. My mind hangs onto the condescending term of endearment, but I choose to overlook it. “How do you like the decor?”
“It’s beautiful,” I answer honestly. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Did you ever go to a ball in Imirath before you left?” she asks, springing discomfort on me, not that I show it. Appearing unbothered and unaffected is a skill I’ve mastered over the years. Giving someone insight into how you feel gives them power over you. Valia is like a vulture, always waiting for the next thing to pick at.
“I’ve heard they’re rather dull affairs,” Cayden responds, taking the attention off me. I tap my foot against his shin under the table to communicate my thanks; he nudges me with his knee in return.
“They’re often dull affairs wherever you go,” Eagor tacks on. Valia looks displeased but keeps her mouth shut. I wonder if he notices his queen’s forwardness.
The first course is placed in front of us, a creamy pumpkin bisque. I bring the spoon to my mouth, and a mixture of cinnamon and nutmeg creates a delicious burst of flavors on my tongue. I could eat this every day; maybe I will if it’s available.
The servants clear the plates once everyone is done. A short yet loud note plays, and the ballroom falls silent. Eagor stands from his chair with a champagne flute in hand. All of us have a champagne flute next to a chalice filled with wine. He turns to the crowd, lifting the champagne toward his guests.
“Here we go,” Cayden mutters under his breath, taking a large gulp of wine. He smirks in my direction when I clear my throat to cover up a giggle.
“First, Queen Valia and I would like to thank you all for coming here tonight. There is no one else we would rather celebrate the formation of this alliance with.” People clink their knives against their glasses, but the noise dies down when Eagor raises his hand to silence the crowd again. “Vareveth has suffered for too long at the hands of Imirath. We have lost too many soldiers and too many citizens to this strife. Tonight, we toast to those we have lost and those we have gained.” Eagor turns away from the crowd and raises his glass in my direction, “Queen Elowen, we also toast to new beginnings with you—to The Dragon Queen!” He raises his glass toward the crowd before taking a long sip of the bubbly liquid.
“To The Dragon Queen!” echoes the crowd.
I raise my glass and take a sip, the bubbles always go right to my brain, so I make sure not to have too much. A tune begins to play as couples filter onto the dance floor, signaling the first dance. Cayden stiffens in his seat and takes another long drag of wine from the gold chalice that somehow looks small in his hand. He keeps his eyes on the table, not looking at me.
“Your Majesty, will you do me the honor of the first dance?” Eagor circles the table and extends his hand toward me. Cayden’s hand tightens on the arm of his chair, and his jaw is clenched incredibly tight. I tear my eyes away from him and look to Eagor. The thought of being close to him, to have his hands on me, tightens my throat, but not in the way my throat tightens around Cayden. I’m comfortable with Cayden. Nonetheless, I place my hand in his and hide my discomfort by plastering on a smile and gliding onto the dancefloor.
Eagor rests his free hand on the small of my back and I rest mine on his shoulder. The dance begins, and I allow Eagor to lead me through the motions I have practiced since I was a young girl stepping on Ailliard’s toes. My dress swishes around my ankles on every spin.
“I hope you’re enjoying your time in Vareveth so far,” Eagor says above the music.
“It’s lovely,” I answer as he places his hands on my hips to briefly lift me when the music calls for it. The assassination attempts weren’t exactly lovely, but there have been good parts.
We sidestep before he dips me in his arms. “Did you know there was a chance we would be married if you never left Imirath?” My smile gets tighter, just like my corset feels. Why couldn’t he have just made a comment about the weather? Every part of me is urging me to put distance between us. “My mother and your father only brushed upon negotiations, but those ceased after you disappeared.” Peace and Garrick don’t mix. Even if the marriage occurred, my father wouldn’t have relented forever. The soldiers that came to my cell would poke fun at the peace offers he received. He’s a tyrant with no moral compass. You can’t reason with the unreasonable.
