Page 98 of The Courting of Bristol Keats
“I don’t listen to what they say. Neither should you.”
As they approached, the crowd in the plaza thinned, dancers stepping back to the perimeters. When they reached the center, he stopped and faced her. “You’re well?” His voice went from commanding to soft, like it was only the two of them alone at the hazel grove.
Suspicion poked her. “What’s this all about?” she asked.
“My question? I thought it was fairly direct. I’m wondering how you’re feeling. Does it require a translation?”
“I’m well enough, considering,” she answered, and glanced sideways at the ogling partiers.
“Ignore them,” he said. “Just look at me. Be with me. Nothing else matters. We’ve done this before, but now we’ll do it better.”
“You’re not denying we’ve danced before?”
“No.” His eyes were cold steel. “I’m through denying a lot of things. And I’m through dancing under the numb veil of invisibility. I want to feel every step. With you.” He lifted his palm into the air.
Her heart pounded in one continuous beat. She hesitated, then lifted her palm to meet his. Their hands circled the air.
And their dance began.
Familiar. Natural. Turning. Dipping. Swaying.
But strange. New.
Touching.
Skin to skin. Face to face.
Not a phantom dance, but the real thing.
The drums beat through her veins.Theirveins. Synchronized. The world a blur around them, the same as before.
Only better.
His eyes remained fixed on her.Watch me. Ignore them.
“Why tonight?” she finally asked. “Why dance with me now? Only because you’re king and can do whatever you want?”
His hand slid lower on her back, tugging her closer. “Yes, because Iamking,” he answered. “And I’m trying to prove something—and I want them all to know it.”
But the way he said it, it sounded more like a personal confession to her.
Murmurs followed them as they circled the plaza, but for those few precious minutes, she stopped caring, stopping hearing anything but the music and the sound of their feet moving in time, together.
This feeling.This was what she had imagined. Craved. Not just being held in his arms, but seeing him, his hair falling over his brow, his gaze truly resting in hers.
I want them all to know it.Know what? The question burned in her. Only that she was well? Or something else?
When the music stopped and another song began, others joined them. First Melizan and Cosette, then Avery, Glennis, and Sashka. A steady flood followed, Kasta, Quin, Julia, Dalagorn, and Hollis—more and more until the plaza was full again, full of laughter and noise like on any other night, and the whispers receded. She danced with others, Avery, Sashka, Cully, but she and Tyghan always returned to each other, ending each dance in each other’s arms. As the hour grew late, knights began slipping away. Dawn and duty came early for them. Even the Knight Commander had to retire eventually, and Bristol and Tyghan departed with them, dancing from plaza, to lawn, to hallway, their movements slowing, until they were finally in front of her chamber door. Alone.
“We’re here,” he said gently.
Bristol’s hands slipped from his shoulders, and Tyghan’s returned to his sides.
Now that they were alone and the message sent that he could dance with anyone he chose, was the performance over? Would they go back to what they were?
The boldness he’d had out on the plaza was left behind. As king, he was trained for public gestures and demands. They were far easier than intimacy. Here in her dim hallway, he was someone else, someone as uncertain about life as she was.
“It’s late,” he finally said. “And we rise early. I should go.” But he didn’t move.
