Page 59 of Godsbane
There’s a low hiss, and, if I didn’t know better, I would swear the silver serpent slithers to life against my belly. The air between us grows thick and cold, my lungs contracting at the sudden loss of oxygen. A wicked smile blooms across Marks’ face at my struggling breath, but I meet it with a look of fierce determination.
We stand there for seconds, minutes, hours. Time no longer exists in whatever vacuum of space we’ve transported to.
With a wave of the conductor’s baton, the orchestra strikes up again, and I find myself at the edge of the dance floor. The space around me is crowded but I have no recollection of moving from the last stair. Warmth from the fires along the outer walls of the ballroom warm my skin, the air light and easy to breathe once more. I search the dais for Marks, but the Lord General is nowhere to be found.
My magic flares again as someone approaches me from behind. I grip the dagger’s handle in preparation, expecting to spin and find the hard, angry lines of Marks’ face.
But it’s the rich scent of leather and salt that I find instead.
Noble couples flank Cal, waiting for the guest of honor to start the first official dance of the evening, as is tradition.
“Lady Ivy,” Cal says with a slight dip of head. Anything more would be construed as a bow. “As an esteemed visiting dignitary from the Emerald Region, it is only proper for you to lead us in the national dance of Corinth.”
“It would be my honor, Captain Murphy.”
I can think of few things I’d like to do less in this moment than dance in front of nobles whose faces show their open contempt for me, but society demands I do just that.
I place my hand in his waiting palm, the familiar tingle of his magic warming me where our skin lightly touches. The crowd parts as Cal leads me to the center of the floor. His hand moves to gently rest on my exposed back, careful of the watchful eyes that dissect our every move.
A violinist softly sweeps his bow across the strings, the first notes of the national song filling the ballroom. We move together in perfect time, a slow step followed by two quick steps. Couples join in all around us as the notes rise and fall. All eyes are focused on us as Cal spins me effortlessly to the music.
“Everyone is staring,” I mumble through a soft smile.
Cal leans in as we spin again, using the closeness required by the motion to speak softly so only I can hear.
“That’s because every man in this room wants to fuck you in that dress and their wives know it.”
I cough, nearly choking on the shock of the words as the captain returns to his pleasant, demure smile. The music rises and falls again, our steps in perfect alignment.
“You could have said something more couth for listening ears. Like, ‘You look ravishing tonight, my lady.’”
The next move calls for the men to dip their partners and Cal uses the opportunity to brush his lips against my ear as he speaks. “I’d like to ravish you tonight, my lady.”
My cheeks flush as I swallow down the heat that floods me with his forbidden words. We are adrift in a sea of onlookers, nothing but casual acquaintances swaying in slow-quick-quick steps to the swell of the orchestra.
“This might be our only chance to speak.” Cal’s words are clipped and stern when he speaks again, the tantalizing lover’s tease gone. “Marks plans to show me off tonight.”
“Like a crown prince?” I joke without thinking. It’s a cruel comparison to make, insinuating that he’s Marks’ heir, and I instantly regret it.
“More like a prized stallion,” Cal corrects.
If my words hurt him, he doesn’t show it in front of the noble eyes that scrutinize us like we’re nothing more than a museum exhibit.
Overcompensating in an attempt to cover my carelessness, I joke again. “The women in this room would hand over all of their rubies for a ride on you.”
“I’m only interested in amethysts tonight.” Cal dips me again in a low, sweeping movement as the music ends. “My mother’s brooch looks excellent on you, princess.”
He pulls me to a standing position and steps back quickly to join in with the other men clapping loudly around us. I bend my knees in a customary curtsy along with the other women, but my eyes never leave his. There’s a wink of his signature smoke—a reminder of the fire that burned between us—before cold steel stares back at me.
I dip my head in a curt nod, eager to make my way off the dance floor quickly. I don’t wish to entertain nobles tonight with waltzes and quicksteps.
Serving women dressed in sparse uniforms flit around the crowd carrying trays of sparkling wine, and I eagerly accept one as it passes by. The effervescent wine is sweet, too sweet. How do the people of the Ruby Region manage to down bottle after bottle of this?
“You have some gall, strutting in here like a prized whore in the King’s colors.” I don’t have to turn to know who the voice belongs to.
“Careful, Governor. You wouldn’t want to appear threatened by a woman, would you?” I keep my back to him, casually sipping the syrupy liquid.
“You cocky little cunt. Your father should have put you in your place a long time ago.”
