She patted his cheek, sweeping past him. “I knew I liked you for some reason.”
He said nothing, but followed her back into the crowd. She’d been to masked balls before, but there was still something unnerving about not being able to see the faces of those around her. Most of the court, Dorian included, wore masks of varying sizes, shapes, and colors—some of simple design, others elaborate and animal-shaped. Nehemia still sat with the queen, wearing a gold-and-turquoise mask with a lotus motif. They appeared to be engaged in polite conversation, and Nehemia’s guards stood to the side of the dais, already looking bored.
Chaol kept close to her as she found an empty spot in the crowd and stopped. It was a good vantage point. She could see everything from here—the dais, the main stairs, the dance floor . . .
Dorian was dancing with a small brunette with outrageously large breasts that he took no pains to avoid glancing at every so often. Hadn’t he noticed her arrival? Even Perrington had seen her when Chaol dragged her into that corner. Thankfully, the captain had subtly moved her away before she had to interact with him.
Across the room, she met Nox’s eye. He was flirting with a young woman wearing a dove mask, and he raised his glass in salute before turning back to the girl. He’d opted for a blue mask that concealed only his eyes.
“Well, try not to have too much fun,” Chaol said beside her, crossing his arms.
Hiding her scowl, Celaena crossed her arms as well and began her vigil.
?
An hour later, Celaena was beginning to curse herself for a being a fool. Nehemia was still sitting with the queen, and hadn’t looked again in Celaena’s direction. How had she even considered that Nehemia—Nehemia, of all people!—would attack everyone?
Celaena’s face burned with shame beneath the mask. She didn’t deserve to call herself a friend. All the dead Champions and mysterious evil powers and this ridiculous competition had made her go mad.
Celaena smoothed the fur on her dress, frowning slightly. Chaol remained beside her, saying nothing. Though he’d allowed her to stay, she doubted he’d soon forget this. Or that the guards wouldn’t get the tongue-lashing of their lives later tonight.
Celaena straightened as Nehemia suddenly rose from her seat beside the queen’s throne, her guards snapping to attention. She bowed her head to the queen, the light of the chandeliers making her mask glisten, and then strode off the dais.
Celaena felt each of her heartbeats hammering in her veins as Nehemia wove through the crowd, her guards close behind—and halted in front of Celaena and Chaol.
“You look beautiful, Lillian,” Nehemia said in the common tongue, her accent as thick as it had ever been. It felt like a slap in the face; she’d spoken with perfect fluency that night in the library. Was she warning Celaena to keep quiet about it?
“As do you,” Celaena said tightly. “Are you enjoying the ball?”
Nehemia played with a fold in her dress. And, from the look of the rich blue fabric, it was probably a gift from the Queen of Adarlan. “Yes, but I’m not feeling well,” the princess said. “I’m going back to my rooms.”
Celaena gave her a stiff nod. “I hope you feel better,” was all she could think of to say. Nehemia looked at her for a long moment, her eyes shining with what seemed like pain, and then left. Celaena watched her walk up the stairs, and didn’t tear her gaze away until the princess was gone.
Chaol cleared his throat. “Do you want to tell me what that was all about?”
“None of your business,” she replied. Something could still happen—even if Nehemia wasn’t here, something could happen. But no. Nehemia wouldn’t repay pain with more pain. She was too good for that. Celaena swallowed hard. The makeshift knife in her bodice felt like a dead weight.
Even if Nehemia wasn’t going to hurt anyone tonight, that didn’t prove her innocence.
“What’s wrong?” Chaol pressed.
Forcing herself to push aside her shame and worry, Celaena lifted her chin. With Nehemia gone, she still had to keep watch, but maybe she could attempt to have a little fun, too. “With you scowling at everyone, no one will ask me to dance.”
Chaol’s dark brows rose. “I’m not scowling at everyone.” Even as he said it, she spotted him frowning at a passing courtier who looked too long in Celaena’s direction.
“Stop it!” she hissed. “No one will ever ask me to dance if you keep doing that!”
He gave her an exasperated look and strode off. She followed him to the border of the dance floor. “Here,” he said, standing at the edge of the sea of swirling gowns. “If anyone wants to ask you to dance, you’re in plain sight.”
From this spot she could also still make sure no feral beasts were about to rip into the crowd. But he didn’t need to know that. She glanced at him. “Would you like to dance with me?”
He laughed. “With you? No.”