Page 43 of House of Embers
Barron did the same to Kerrigan. “My lady?”
Kerrigan shot a glance at Fordham, who looked like he wanted to eat glass before he gave Kerrigan over to their enemy. But what else could he do in the situation? They had come to show their strength in the crowd of their enemies. She had to do this too.
“Absolutely. It’d be an honor,” she crooned, stepping away from Fordham and into the arms of his rival.
Fordham was still watching her as Viviana dragged him into position on the dance floor. When bloodshed didn’t follow their entrance, the rest of the room went back to gossiping, and a line of dancers got into position around them.
Barron drew Kerrigan in close, positioning their arms and then sliding his hand to the small of her back. She held back her distaste as her hand went to his shoulder. The only good thing about all this was that she was an excellent dancer. She’d loved it so much as a child growing up in the House of Cruse in Bryonica. The dances came to her with ease. It was one of the reasons she was so good with her footwork—it had felt like an extension of her dancing skills.
Unfortunately, Barron Laurent was also an excellent dancer. She should have foreseen it, considering Fordham had confirmed that Barron was an exceptional soldier. She hadn’t seen him in action, but she didn’t doubt Fordham’s praise on the matter.
Barron whisked her around the space as if she were a doll and he was in complete control. Normally she would have adored that in a partner, but right now, she didn’t want to be out of control.
“So do you expect me to believe that those shadows belong to you?” he asked after a few tense moments.
Kerrigan glanced up into his dark eyes with an arched eyebrow. “You think they’re not mine?”
“You’re not an Ollivier.”
“Not yet,” she purred.
He smirked. “Not yet, and even then, none of King Samael’s wives have gained this incredible talent by marrying into the line.”
“That’s unfortunate for them.”
“Even though it was a trick, it did look formidable,” he said. “Well done.”
“Thank you,” she said without pretext. Then she gathered shadows toward her and let them wrap around both her and Barron’s attached hands. “I’m a fan of them.”
His expression never changed. He looked at the shadows like they were a little nuisance. “I know he has his eyes on you at all times.”
Not just his eyes. She could feel the fear through the bond. The worry about leaving her in Barron’s arms. But she could take care of herself. She’d dealt with worse. Ashby March had tried to force her into an arranged marriage. She’d almost been sold into sex slavery by Tarcus Valerii. She’d stared down Vulsan Andromadix, a full-blooded Doma, and survived. Barron wasn’t anything new.
Men were always trying to control her. It had become a new fact of life. Their power was threatened by her very existence. She was strong in all the ways they wanted her to be weak. She was smart and clever in all the ways they wanted her to be dumb and submissive. She wasn’t silent in the face of oppression. She didn’t back down in the face of adversity. She refused to be compliant or complicit in their bigotry. When she persevered despite all the ways they held her back and the obstacles they put in her path, they chose another tactic. If control didn’t work, then they wanted to break her.
At the end of the day, the men that were in her life didn’t need her reassurance that they were the good ones. They did that every day just by existing with her strength. Fordham would never have to question where he stood with her because the answer was always by her side.
If only there were more like him and less like Barron Laurent.
“Well, we could get out of his eyesight,” Kerrigan said, “but I have a feeling that’s what you want.”
“What are you suggesting?” he asked with the same sullen look. “That I would want to be alone with you? Preposterous. I would never degrade myself so.”
“Oh, certainly not,” she said as he twirled her away from him. When she turned back in, she added, “Your affiliation with half-Fae is entirely pure, I’m sure.”
“I don’thaveaffiliation with half-Fae. They’re servants, nothing more, nothing less,” he said, even and steady.
He was goading her at the same time as she was trying to goad him. But it wasn’t working. She didn’t know his pain points well enough to know what would addle him, just that he wanted power and she was in the way.
“Servant. Got it,” she said with a smile. “Must really irritate you that I’m going to be your queen.”
“Not if I can help it.”
She blinked at him. He didn’t even give her an evil smile, just said it as bluntly as ever. “Well, that was the nicest threat I’ve ever gotten.”
“Was it?” he asked. “I didn’t mean for it to be.”
She laughed because what else could she do? “Fordham might have something to say about that.”
