Page 97 of The Courting of Bristol Keats
“No, but—”
“Look around you, Reuben. How many here have you crossed? Too many to count, I’d say.” And then pressing closer, Tyghan added, “Stay away from my recruit.”
“Yourrecruit?”
“That’s right. Mine. Don’t look at her. Don’t touch her. Don’t even think her name. Stay away from her. Do you understand?”
Reuben dropped the hem of his robe, and his chest puffed out, awareness spreading over his face. “Yes. I think I do,” he answered. His chin dipped with wooden acknowledgment. “I serve at your pleasure, Your Majesty—until your brother returns.”
CHAPTER 67
The whispers were hard to ignore. At least half of those shooting Bristol sideways glances were capable of lethal magics, not to mention the garden variety of mortal threats like a knife in the back. She managed to force a smile, but trying to keep her thoughts focused as she spoke with Julia was impossible. When the chatter spiked, she thought,Not again.Wasn’t her presence there enough to quell the rumors?I am not a monster.And then the crowd rippled like a disturbed school of fish. Someone was pushing through them—toward her.
Bristol braced herself for another angry face, like Reuben’s. Or maybe Lord Csorba or Commander Sloan this time. They had all made their disapproval of her known.
Avery and Hollis shifted their positions, fortifying their protective wall, but then her stomach sank when they stepped aside too, the wall vanished, and someone stopped in front of her.
It was Tyghan.
He was dressed not like a Knight Commander in leathers and weapons, but like a king. He wore a formal jacket, the same midnight black as his hair. Silver threads embroidered the cuffs and collar. It was the first time he actually looked like a king and not some roguish soldier, except now he was the picture of a formidable monarch, his expression severe, like he was there to start a war. The crisp, tailored edges of his formal attire emphasized his power.
The crowd went silent, waiting.
He didn’t speak immediately. He stared for a long, uncomfortable moment.
Fire ignited in her chest, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the dangerous figure he cut or because it felt like he was devouring her with his gaze. She was too afraid to entertain the latter notion. She’d gone down that empty road too many times, and the hurt of it was still fresh.
“Welcome back, Your Majesty,” she finally said, trying to break the awkwardness.
His attention shifted to Julia. “I’d like to steal Miss Keats’s company for a few moments, with your permission.”
Bristol sat straighter on the bench.Permission?This was getting odder by the moment, and yet there was a long, strained moment between him and Julia. Her cat eyes narrowed, passing some sort of judgment.
When she finally nodded, Tyghan extended his hand toward Bristol. “Would you join me for a dance?” He said it loud, so everyone would be sure to hear.
Bristol eyed his hand, his gesture visible to everyone around them. His palm was turned upward, not a hand to pull a fallen recruit off the ground for more drills, but a hand offered as an invitation. Every head in Sun Court craned forward, and the crowd pressed a step closer. Bristol’s hands remained on her thighs, her fingers squeezing her knees.Dance?What was this very public performance all about? What was he trying to prove? She didn’t want to misunderstand his motive and imagine one thing that was only something else. The crowd watched, breathless. “Here? Now?” she whispered. “I don’t think—”
“The king of Danu wishes to dance,” he answered, again, loud enough so that everyone heard. “With you. Here and now.” He waited, his hand still extended.
Bristol’s blood surged at her temples. It was definitely a show, but why?
Sashka poked Bristol with her elbow, like she wasn’t paying attention. “The king is asking you to dance.”
So he was. Bristol didn’t want to create another kind of spectacle by refusing him. She placed her hand in his. “Showing off your rank?” she whispered as she rose.
“Sometimes that’s what it takes,” he answered.
Chatter erupted around them, ruffling the air like a brood of clumsy mud hens trying to take flight.
“Let’s go where we’ll have more space,” he said.
Somewhere dark and out of the way?Bristol wondered.A place where they wouldn’t be seen?But he led her down a short flight of stairs to the sprawling central plaza where it was guaranteed that virtually everyone on the palace grounds could see them from the surrounding overlooks.
“Are you sure you want to be seen with me?”
“Too late, Keats. I think we’ve already been seen.”
“You’re taking your chances. I hear they’re calling me a monster.”
