Page 226 of The Throne Seeker
Before, she would have cowered under the scrutinizing eyes, but not tonight.
Tonight, she had to fake confidence until she bled it.
With that thought, Rose let a menacing smile ensnare her lips as she straightened her back and shoulders. She continued descending the stairs until she was walking among them.
The crowd parted like the Meridian Sea as she strutted through them, scanning each person as if judging to see if any of them could meet her high standards.
And there was one that surpassed them all.
Roman stood in the middle of the parted sea, just as besotted as the rest. His soft lips parted in awe as his gold eyes fell prey to hers. His thick brown hair spilled in natural waves, hovering above the golden shoulder pads of his tunic.
Those dangerous muscles shifted to face her.
Her feet faltered as her world went quiet, her vision fogging from the steam boiling within her.
She fell into him like the rain fell into the sea. Stretched for him like the trees stretched for the sun. Burned for him like a wildfire devoured a dry forest.
She was still standing there as he stalked to her, his strides solid. Bold. Unafraid.
He held his arm out to her.
Without hesitation, she took it.
And with one graceful motion, he whisked her across the dance floor, and got lost in a realm entirely their own.
CHAPTER 80
An hour later, Rose stood next to her mother, Roman, and Xavier, all huddled together while couples swirled around them on the open dance floor. Tristan and Satin were among them, doing a remarkable job of pretending to be a cheerful couple for the court, even though Rose was acutely aware of his frequent glances in her direction.
Her gaze drifted to the balcony, where every pillar had a guard surveying the crowd, anticipating something—anything. But no such threat had appeared. Still, she remained vigilant, scanning faces for any hint that something was amiss.
Roman and the others followed suit. Even the king, despite appearing as if he’d been dragged through hell, remained on the throne above the sidelines, overseeing the celebration.
“I don’t like this,” Roman said next to her, disgruntled, glaring at the lingering stares. “Every single man in this room is looking at you like you’re the next course.”
Rose knew it, no matter how much she tried to ignore it. She could feel the room’s curiosity for her, the stares reminding her of the men at the tavern. She shifted uncomfortably in her stance.
“I could say I told you so, but it seems so repetitive,” Xavier said on the other side of Roman, taking a long drink of wine.
“I can’t hide under a cloak forever,” she said, which was true enough.
“I could’ve used a few more days of it,” her mother muttered next to her.
She knew Roman and Xavier would agree.
Harriet was on the dance floor, swaying with an attractive young man, exchanging soft whispers and playful smiles. Rose recognized him but couldn’t remember his name. He belonged to a House of even lower status than Rose. Harriet was absolutely out of his reach. But it appeared Harriet paid no mind to that, drawing him closer. Perhaps Harriet had a secret beau after all.
As the night wore on, Rose attempted to pretend she was enjoying herself, but the sheer number of emotions swarming threatened her sanity. A migraine quickly set in, making her realize that crowds were her worst nightmare.
Roman noticed her distress, intertwining his pinky discretely with hers.
With his touch, she was able to focus on him. The overwhelming emotions in the room faded into the background like white noise. Her stiff shoulders relaxed. She stepped closer to him.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“I’m fine, just… don’t let go,” she whispered.
He leaned down to her ear. “Never,” he whispered, risking a discreet kiss on the neck just under her ear—the very spot where he kissed her at the Snorri.
