Like everything in Socair, and really, my life in general, the dance turned out to be an unmitigated disaster.
Iiro had come to the tent before we left, making sure that Theo knew not to show me any kind of favoritism. So not only was I not in Theo’s arms, another girl was. Someone tall and fine-boned and perfectly demure and Socairan.
I was torn between wanting to stab her and knowing exactly how unreasonable that was.
It hadn’t helped that the atmosphere was desperately romantic, with lanterns hanging from the trees above us, glowing like stars and casting a hazy light over the dancers below.
Though we were outside, it felt as fine as any ball we would throw back home. Servants carted around trays of hors d’oeuvres and glasses of some beverage or another. It was simple, yet grand in its own way.
Mila had also been swept away as soon as we got there, so I was standing alone on the side of the clearing in my admittedly glorious dress.
It was shimmering gold fabric, tight at the bust and flowing from there for easy movement. The sleeves were long enough to keep me warm in the dropping temperatures, but thin enough that I wouldn’t be overheated from the exertion of dancing.
Not that it appeared I would be doing any of that.
I supposed, if things got too boring, I could take out my booby dagger and scandalize the entire camp.
It was a small consolation when half of them couldn’t quit staring at me, and the other half seemed to be doing their damnedest to pretend I didn’t exist, except for their not-so-subtle signs to ward against evil.
I shook my head and made my way to a vat of what Mila had called medovukha, ladling myself a serving into a cup and ignoring the way that everyone else scattered when I came near.
Tentatively, I brought the cup to my lips, still wary after the borscht incident. But the drink smelled much like the mead we had back home. Taking a sip, I was pleasantly surprised to find it tasted that way, too, if a bit sweeter.
I took another sip, this one much heartier, and was preparing myself to spend my evening in this very manner when a man in red and white robes approached and asked me to dance.
His features and long gray beard were familiar, but it took me a moment to place him as the duke of Ram, the one who had called for Juho earlier. I looked around for some sign of how to proceed only to find Iiro staring pointedly at me from over Inessa’s head, giving me a slight dip of his chin.
All right, then.
I gave my hand to the duke, and he led me out to the floor. The dance wasn’t much different from the ones in Lochlann, and I caught on easily.
Like sparring, dancing was all about foot movement and reading your opponent, both of which came fairly naturally to me. And this duke was not difficult at all to predict.
He wanted something from me. The only question was what?
“So,” he began in a thickly accented voice, “you travel alone with only your guard often?”
I blinked at him. “I hadn’t intended to be traveling.”
He gave a gruff noise in the back of his throat that might have been an acknowledgement or a disagreement. “Surely, a princess is not promised to a guard.”
“No…” I trailed off, wondering where he was going with this.
Looking for a way to impugn my honor? Juho had done that quite effectively already.
But his hand traveled lower, past the small of my back, pulling me closer.
I wondered if hiking up my skirts to go for my dagger would be considered amicable or accommodating?
“My wife died just last year.” His breath was warm on my face.
“How very unfortunate.” For him, and for me at this moment.
I tried to keep the disgust from my features at where he was going with this. I needed at least five clans on my side for the final verdict to go my way, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to live if it meant sharing a marriage bed with this man.
Perhaps if the alternative was being set on fire?
He cleared his throat, coughing up a wad of phlegm onto the ground next to us.
Nope. Not even then.
“I am sorry for your loss,” I tacked on when the silence had gone on for too long. At least I could try not to outright offend him into voting against me.
“Yes,” he agreed. “But perhaps something good can come of it.”
Then again, maybe I don’t care how he votes.
“Oh?” It was all I could say as he spun me around and pulled me in closer than before.
I couldn’t help but long for the Lochlannian Court, where Mac or my father would have swooped in if they saw a Lord getting too handsy. Better yet, Avani had been known to send the palace animals in for a well-timed bite.
I almost laughed at the memory before I remembered where I was and who was touching me.
Thankfully, the dance called for a switching of partners before the despicable man could say more, and I found myself thrust into a different duke’s arms. Wolf, judging by the insignia on his lapel.
A subtle sigh of relief escaped me. But it was short-lived.
“My son died in the war to defend Clan Bear’s honor,” the new man spat. “I will enjoy watching you face the noose.”
At least he didn’t want to marry me. Was this better? Worse? I couldn’t decide.
“Thank you for your honesty?” There really was nothing else I could say to that, though this duke didn’t look pleased by my response.
The next few dances were much of the same, passing from one ill-intentioned Socairan to another. A few were gentlemen, including Mila’s father, and there was more than one that refused to dance with me at all, jumping back from my hair as though it were live spiders rather than harmless crimson curls.
Inessa’s father, the duke of Clan Viper, was only barely cordial. Remembering her vague references to the war, I suspected he, too, had cause to hate my people. And therefore me.
Meanwhile, the girls in Theo’s arms laughed and simpered, and Iiro watched over me with his commanding glare, daring me to say no to anyone who asked me to dance.
I was beyond finished by the time Lord Evander’s hand appeared in front of me, which was the only excuse I had for what popped out of my mouth next.
“Ah, another upstanding gentleman coming to feel out the Lochlannian princess.” I kept some semblance of an artificial smile plastered to my face for show, even as I sulkily threw my hand in his.
His lips twisted in disgust. “I can assure you, that’s the furthest thing from my mind.”
I was a bit offended by his revulsion, in spite of myself. It was probably the hair. Maybe I could twirl around too fast and accidentally hit him in the face with the full force of my curls.
Yes. I think I shall.
“So, what, then? You didn’t get your fun in calling me a fraud in front of the entire Summit. Now you want to dance?”
He raised a single black eyebrow, his posture relaxing as he placed one hand on my waist.
“I wouldn’t go right to want.” True to his word, his hand didn’t stray, his fingers only the barest pressure on my waist.
“Yet, here we are.”
“Haven’t you noticed that Socairans live and die on decorum?” The corner of his mouth turned up into a cruel smirk. “Quite literally, in your case.”
My lips parted in fury. “And now you’re mocking me? Do you think it’s funny that I might die at the end of this week?”
“Come on, Princess,” he sounded bored. Irritated, even. “We both know it won’t come to that.”
I shot him an incredulous look. “We don’t know any such thing.”
He spun me, waiting until I had returned before speaking again.
“Don’t pretend to be naive,” he chided. “It doesn’t look good on you.”
My hand curled into a fist, bunching the fabric at the neck of his tunic. He had what one of my thieving uncles would have called backpfeifengesicht. A punchable face.
“I’m not pretending to be naive any more than you’re pretending to be an arsehole.”
He raised both eyebrows this time. “No? So you aren’t scheming with the ever-crafty Lord Iiro?”
I wished Davin were here with one of his scathing remarks right about now, but it was just me and my unexpected bout of rage.
“Scheming for what? The illustrious opportunity to put my life in the hands of a group of men who won’t so much as let me speak on my own behalf?”
Lord Evander studied me as though searching for the lie, finally shaking his head in disgust. Obviously, he didn’t believe that I wasn’t in on whatever mysterious plan he had concocted in his mind.
And I was through.
Stumbling quite intentionally, I came down hard on his foot with my heel. He grunted in pain, but didn’t falter, and I smiled sweetly up at him.
He narrowed his eyes, murder in his gaze, and I braced myself for whatever cruel thing he was about to say next.
But it was a different voice that sounded in my ear.
