Page 32 of Dreams and Dragon Wings
Is the king dancing with another woman? I almost look that way to see which lady has caught his eye now before I remind myself that I don’t care. What does it matter? King Friedemar will never choose me for his bride.
And then there is that business with the strange voice. The one that warned me torun.
No, it is much better if I avoid drawing the king’s attention further. I should find a quiet corner of the ballroom where I might meet a quiet bachelor from a distant corner of Briarhold willing to marry a woman who sometimes glows when she’s upset—
As if summoned merely by my thoughts, a man suddenly steps in front of me, blocking my way forward. I stop just short of barreling into his broad chest.
“Oh!” I gasp, retreating by several steps. “Do forgive me, my lord.” But then I freeze. My heart stops for a single, dizzying moment.
Blue. His eyes are blue.
But they are not impossibly blue. Not sapphire blue. Not Bene blue.
Nor is his hair silver. It’s red.
Disappointment crashes over me, leaving me fighting to school my features, careful not to let it show.
The stranger chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “No apology is necessary, my lady. It would be an honorto be trampled by the woman who’s so thoroughly captured His Majesty’s eye.” His tone is light—teasing, but not unkind. “Though I don’t believe we’ve yet been introduced. I can’t recall ever seeing you at court before.”
I part my lips, ready to explain that I am no lady, hence my absence at court, when a voice slices cleanly through the air behind me. High. Lilting.
A voice straight from my childhood nightmares.
“Well, well… is that not Miss Aurelia Weaver herself? And Lord Ambrose Burk! How charming. I did not realize you two were acquainted.”
My hands ball into fists, twisting into the folds of my gown.
The stranger—Lord Ambrose—smiles and slants me a quick look. “Miss Weaver and I were just becoming acquainted, Lady Harcourt. But now that I find she is already an acquaintance of yours, I marvel at her good taste.”
Lady Harcourt’s laughter rings through the air, grating against my already frayed nerves.No. Not her. Anyone but her. Not tonight of all nights when I am not wearing Bene’s amulet.
But I know itisher even before I turn to face the woman responsible for my shattered reputation—Miss Selina Danbury, in the flesh.
But no, she is not a Danbury anymore.
She is Lady Selina Harcourt, a vision in burgundy silk. A viper with chestnut curls. When my gaze locks with hers, her smile brightens, and her gray eyes shine—full of glittering delight.
Like a predator who has just spied already wounded prey.
At her side stands the man Mama once happily promised my future to: Lord Thomas Harcourt himself. But he does not look at me. He does not speak.
He simply stares past me, as if I do not even exist.
At that moment, I wish I didn’t.
Selina’s smile sharpens. She has no doubt sensed my fear. “But youdoremember Miss Weaver, don’t you, darling?” she prompts her husband, her voice entirely too warm, too cheerful.
My pulse quickens. My breath hitches. I cannot do this.
Dipping into a curtsy, I softly excuse myself. “Please forgive me, my lords, my lady, but I am needed elsewhere. My mother was looking for me.”
Before I can retreat, Lord Ambrose shifts his stance, once again blocking my path. “But I have yet to beg you for the honor of a dance, Miss Weaver,” he murmurs, a gentle smile curving his lips once more. “It would be such a pleasure to become better acquainted.”
Were we alone, I would be glad to accept his invitation. But we are not alone.
Selina is here. She is watching me. Waiting to strike.
“Forgive me,” I repeat, taking another step backward. “Perhaps another time, my lord—”
