Page 61 of The Orc's Thief
Arlon studies me for a long moment. “I haven’t thought of that.” He leans back, his powerful body relaxed. “I can promise to always tell you. You won’t be able to discern it yourself, but you’ll still know.”
I press my lips together, thinking it through. It’s not the same—I’d have to rely on his honesty instead of my senses—but Arlon has been truthful with me from the start. Doubting him now makes little sense.
“All right.” I drop my gaze back to my stew and admit, “I was thinking of my table manners and the last time I had to use them.”
He’s still watching me, his meal abandoned for the moment. “Was that before you had to leave your home?”
“My parents hosted a lot of dinners,” I tell him as I mop up the last of my stew with a piece of bread. “It was such an achievement for me when I turned sixteen and was finally allowed to attend them. My sister was two years my senior, so she’d taunt me with stories about how lovely the dances were, how good the conversation, and I envied her so badly.”
Arlon’s lips curl into a small smile. “Ah, I can imagine young Tessa in her best dress, hair pinned up, the most beautiful girl at the ball.”
I nudge him with my elbow, but I can’t help the heat that rises in my cheeks.
“I wasn’t the most admired girl, you know. My sister was a lot prettier, and she had all the suitors hanging around her.”
Janie knew she was beautiful, too, and used it to secure a match with one of the richest men in Redport—the match I almost ruined with my impulsive decision to run away with Hugo.
“I would have danced with you.”
Arlon’s low voice breaks through my memories.
“Every damn dance.”
My breath catches in my throat at his earnest expression. He’s telling the truth, I know it.
It’s why I glance toward the musicians, who have just launched into another song, and murmur, “Would you like to dance with me now?”
Arlon’s surprise is so evident, I can’t hold back a laugh. He clearly didn’t think I’d take him up on his word so quickly.
But he’s on his feet in a flash and holds out his hand for me.
“My lady?”
I slip my hand into his, letting him lead me around the table. We find a narrow space beside the bar, out of the way of the first couple still dancing, caught up in the rhythm. Arlon pulls me closer until our boots nearly touch. He pauses, then gently sets his hands on my hips, like he’s waiting for me to push him away.
But I was the one who asked him, and I want this. Maybe it’s a flaw, but I want him to keep looking at me like I’m the only woman in the room—the only one in the world. So I rest my palms on his shoulders and hold tight as we sway with the music, our steps falling into rhythm.
The lessons from childhood come flooding back. And I realize this is the first dance I’ve had since Hugo. He’d been a graceful dancer, and in his arms, I’d felt untouchable—desirable,admired, the envy of every girl at a party. But everything shifted after our failed elopement. Society shunned us for not being wed, or so I thought.
In truth, they turned their backs on me, not my fiancé.
“The last time I attended a ball, I could only dance with Hugo,” I admit to Arlon, my voice quiet. “When it came time to change partners, he asked another girl to dance, and I was left without a partner. No one else would touch me because I was a fallen woman.”
Arlon’s hands tighten around my waist.
“They were fools. You weren’tfallenjust for loving someone.”
“I know that now.” The memory stings. “Have you ever made a fool of yourself for love?”
Arlon’s quiet laugh brushes my cheek as he draws me into a turn.
“I’ve never been in love,” he says. “But I did make a fool of myself over a girl once. Asked her to meet me at the thermal baths. When she arrived and undressed, I lost control in less than a minute. She stormed off and told all her friends.”
I smother a laugh against his sleeve.
“Arlon, you can’t say things like that in public.”
He shrugs.
