Page 31 of Frost and Death
After my announced arrival, I enter the ballroom gradually, marveling at tonight’s theme.
Tonight’s festivities feature decorations adorned with oranges, yellows, reds, and browns. The hanging chandeliers project an orange hue, while red and yellow drapes adorn the outer walls, creating an appearance of fall. Floor-to-ceiling curtains and arched windows are also fitted with lush cherry-red fabric, accentuating the brown branches wrapped around each pillar as the dark rugs spread across the tile.
“Make tonight memorable,” Betina whispers as we approach my throne.
She guides me to it, light shining across her features before breaking into a curtsy. As she leaves me to rest, I sense everyone’s attention.
Carefully, I scan each face, stopping when I meet Niko’s deep golden stare. I knew he was taking me in as I was him, but I cower away from his gaze, hoping he takes it as a dismissal.
Luckily, a staff member is nearby with a platter, holding one cup I can only hope is wine. I extend my gratitude as I take the glass and swallow down the contents in one gulp, my head immediately swimming.
“May I please have another?” I ask.
He nods and disappears when I pivot to the crowd.
Niko is gone, and I hope it is the last I will see of him tonight. I don’t know how strong I can be if he comes near me.
My body contracts, and I drop my head, tensing and placing pressure over my abdomen.
Deities, I should have taken more medicine.
“My Queen,” a deep voice I recognize whispers.
I shoot up to the real-life deity standing in front of me. My mouth runs dry at the sight.
He is drenched in all black, from his tunic loosely held by his vest to his trousers and a pair of gloves placed on the side of his hip.
The scarred man’s deep glacial blue eyes study me through his contrastingly devious grin.
I shrivel inwardly, the reminder of how I thought about him last night heating my cheeks.
He extends his hand, asking, “May I be your first dance of the evening?”
The hair on the back of my neck rises at the richness of his voice, forcing me to bite my lip before speaking. “I would like that very much, Lord… ?”
His dimple appears through the small wisps of his black hair. “There is no need for formalities when all I need is your hand in mine.”
While I am aware of his deflection, I do not have the energy to keep pressing him for his name. I need to maintain my regal appearance and mask the pain attacking my insides.
Deities, I should have asked Betina for extra medicine before she left.
I take my time rising, clenching my muscles so they behave. If I can get through one dance, I can get this man’s name and then find Betina.
A warm gentleness soothes me as I place my hand into my dance partner’s—a small comfort I focus on as knots are twisting and pulling in my stomach.
He loops it around his arm, guiding us down the dais.
A rupture of spasms explodes in my pelvis, and I clench my teeth as we reach the dance floor.
I drape my hand over his shoulder as his intoxicating cologne clouds my senses. But when a rush of pain shoots inside me,I pinch my eyes closed and cling to the scent as a welcome distraction.
The musicians play a slow melody, the required soft swaying another blessing that will allow the chance to conserve my energy. But when I look upward, the scarred man’s handsome features furrow.
“I am sorry. Did you say something?” I ask.
“I asked if you wanted to be here,” he replies. “I know I am not the best dancer.”
Embarrassment crosses my features as I try to come up with a good excuse, but nothing comes to mind because the only thing driving me right now is the soft caress his thumb does on my hip.
