“You?” He swept his attention around the room, a knowing gleam entering his eyes. The crowd surged back, as if terrified of his attention settling on them. The dance floor cleared. “Is there someone else you were hoping to dance with first? If so, let’s make him regret not asking before I did.”
“I will dance with you, but there’s no ulterior motive in it.”
“Of course.”
His amusement remained as he whisked me onto the dance floor and the orchestra immediately began playing a waltz. For a few beats, we didn’t speak. He simply whirled us around the room, my nerves over dancing in public a forgotten memory as he easily led us through the steps. He was lovely. A shining diamond encapsulated in pure platinum.
Or maybe that was what he wanted me to believe. Maybe he was really a blade. Forged in hellfire and deadly as sin. As we waltzed closer together, I waited for some spark of memory to catch and ignite hidden flames of desire. If he was the lover from my vision, my body didn’t seem to recognize him.
He leaned scandalously close. “If you’re this intrigued by my mask, wait until I take it off.”
“I assure you I am not looking at your mask, your majesty. Honestly, I’m trying to find a new set of horns or fangs.”
Pride’s eyes glittered. “I can be terrifying. When I want to be.”
“I’m sure you can, but not like someone I know.”
“Wrath?” His mouth turned down at the edges as my gaze searched the dance floor, hoping his name would be enough to summon him. “I’m unused to such beautiful dance partners thinking of my brother while in my arms.”
I couldn’t help myself. I laughed in the devil’s face. “You’re exceedingly conceited.”
“One of our most prominent family traits. Though I assure you my ego is well justified.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it, your highness.”
We waltzed across the floor, between other couples who’d joined us, his steps steady and smooth as he led me around and around. Even after Wrath’s impromptu lesson, I’d been worried I’d miss steps or stomp on his feet, but his skill was enough to overcome any of my mistakes. Part of me was disappointed. If this had gone terribly, it might have been my current largest fear.
“The Prince of Wrath is quite serious compared to the rest of you.”
“That’s what he does—he excels at war and justice. Both serious matters. And it’s why none of us have to bother with the messy bits of ruling.” I drew my brows together. “This realm would have ripped itself apart if he didn’t terrify it into submission.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
Pride swung us around until I could see Wrath leaning against the marble column. His mask was tugged back and his gaze followed each step, each glide around the ballroom.
He looked neither pleased nor angered, but there was something about his expression that made me think he was… jealous. Pride lowered his hand, skimming my spine, no doubt purposefully stoking Wrath’s annoyance. I stepped on his foot and internally smiled as he winced.
“He, dearest darling, is the balance. And is usually the only thing standing between us and total destruction. Wrath is impartial justice made flesh. He is feared because he does not hesitate to carry out a sentence, to mete out justice on those deserving punishment. If he must send someone to the Prison of Damnation, what mortals consider their version of ‘Hell,’ it is no light matter.”
Thus far, no one had spoken of the mortal souls sent here. “Where is that located?”
“It’s adorable you think I’d tell you. Have you asked Wrath?”
I had and I was fairly confident he’d said something about an isle off the western shore. “I was under the impression that was what your role is supposed to be.”
“Rules are more fun when they’re broken.” He lifted a shoulder. “Delegating is also part of ruling, is it not?”
Before I could answer, he swept us across the room once again, his motions fluid and graceful and commanding. Understanding he was no longer interested in speaking of power, I changed tactics. I waited until we were far enough away from other couples, then said quietly, “I know it’s private, but I wanted to offer my condolences.”
Pride tensed beneath my touch. I doubted I would have noticed if we hadn’t been dancing, which was exactly why I wanted to broach this subject on the dance floor.
“Losing someone you love,” I continued when he didn’t speak, “is a horrible kind of pain. I would not wish that on my worst enemy.”
“As I’m sure my brothers and I are counted amongst those you consider foes, it pleases me to hear that.”
It was only partially true, but I didn’t correct him. With the next rotation around the dance floor, his mask slipped back, revealing his mouth. A small diagonal scar carved through his upper lip and ended just below the lower one. I’d seen it before and hoped the rapid beating of my heart was mistaken for the increased tempo he used as we continued dancing.
We were gliding closer to the edge of the dance floor, nearing an alcove hidden by a series of large potted ferns. Just as we stepped close to it, I swung us around and pulled him into the shadowy spot, far from prying eyes. I couldn’t see his full expression, but I heard his sharp intake of breath as I pressed him against the wall and brought my lips to his ear.
Needing no further encouragement, he tugged off his mask, and dropped it to the floor, then went to work removing mine, mistaking our current position for something it was not.
A reaction I’d been hoping for.
“Your brother thinks you’re debauched. Too drunk on wine and lovers to bother with anything of importance.” I pulled back enough to study him. Wariness entered his features. “Yet you were leading your guards around the grounds of House Pride this morning, looking anything but intoxicated.”
“I beg your pardon?” He feigned confusion like a skilled actor. I noticed he didn’t directly address my question, giving him a way to avoid speaking a lie. “I’m here for kissing, not an inquisition. If you’re interested in talking, I can find more scintillating topics.”