Page 101 of A Witch and Her Dragon
“Your Highness.” I bow my head. “You are... exquisite.”
I’m not so convinced that word does her justice. I’d have to scour the books in the king’s study in search of a word befitting Alina Ravenscroft, though I’m not so sure it even exists.
“You look quite handsome yourself.” Her eyes, brushed with a dark twinkling shadow, assess me from my head to my polished boots. Then she sees the pin on my chest and reaches to touch it with a small smile. “You wore it.”
“Yes, well, I think your grandfather would nettle me otherwise.”
She slips her hand into the crook of my arm, bringing her body close to mine. “He most certainly would’ve.”
I try not to let my gaze linger on the low cut of her dress, the curve of her breasts beneath the thin fabric. But she must feel my interest through our bond, for her smile turns coy.
“Are you quite all right, Sir Ashvale? Your cheeks have taken on a sudden pink hue.”
Immediately, I turn my gaze away. “Quite all right, Your Highness.”
She hums as her friends come up beside her.
“This iscrazy,” Lyra says. Her red hair bursts out around her head in a halo of bouncy curls. She’s wearing a green dress, and I wonder briefly if her rat is hidden in there somewhere. I wouldn’t put it past her. “Are all your parties like this?”
Alina shrugs one shoulder, and the movement sends her skin shimmering, as though it’s been dusted with glitter. Perhaps it has. Hopefully it’s edible.
My dragon curls inside me, and I try to focus on anything besides Alina. As she speaks with her friends, I count the candles in the chandeliers and then take to tracing the patterns in the marble floor. I’ve only just calmed the heated racing of my heart when Alina says, “Well?”
Flicking my eyes to her, I say, “Well what?”
One of her eyebrows gets pointy in the corner. “Well, do you want todance with me?”
Oh, of course. The orchestra is preparing for another waltz, and new couples are taking to the floor.
Thankfully, dance lessonsarepart of our formal training—I believe the royal family doesn’t wish for us to make a mess of things if ever we find ourselves in a position like this one.
Though I never thought I’d be asked to dance with the princess.
“I’d love to,” I say, then guide her toward the dance floor while her friends drift off toward one of the buffet tables.
Gilda and Clarice stand nearby, vibrating with excitement, their dresses glittering softly in the candlelight. Alina lifts a hand in a wave.
“I’m dancing with you next,” she says to Gilda as we pass by.
My sister’s cheeks go bright pink, and I have to strive not to chuckle at her expense.
Gazes follow us, and when we take our place amongst the other couples, I feel a shift of focus and attention, like the whole room is suddenly looking at us. And maybe they are.
But I just look at her.
Her blue eyes. The curl of her mouth. My scar hugging the side of her throat.
Radiant.
There’s a swell of strings, a moment to catch my breath as Alina loops the train of her dress about her right wrist.
And then we’re gliding across the floor, my hand at her low back, her steps flawless and precise. Her gown swishes and whispers as I twirl her across the marble underfoot. In my periphery, I see the stares, the unveiled curiosity in the many pairs of eyes.
Alina pays them no mind. What she does is smile.
She smiles at me like I’m the only thing she sees, like everyone else could disappear and it would not dim her joy in the slightest. I know this, because it’s exactly how I feel.
She’s the frost to my fire, the earth to my sky. She’s my mate. And destiny got it just right.
