Carys smiled at the earnestness in the girl’s face. Clearly, she had interest in Lord Trevlayn beyond this moment. Which made Carys like the drunken fool a bit more. “Yes, Lord Trevlayn. You didn’t give it your best effort,” Carys agreed. “Try in earnest and I believe I can get Lady Michaela to award you with a dance.”
Lord Trevlayn puffed out his chest, wiped his hands on his legs, and gave it another try. Everyone gathered around the entertainers cheered as his feet reached toward the ceiling, hung there for a moment, and then suddenly toppled over. Others in the ballroom began to wander over as Lord Trevlayn’s friends decided to try the feat. Bets broke out on the sidelines among some of the younger lords and ladies as the boys kicked up their feet and sprawled on the floor, spilling drinks and eliciting shrieks and laughter from the gathered ladies. The older members of the court looked outraged. Finally, the shortest of Lord Trevlayn’s friends managed several steps on his hands—feet flailing in the air—to great cheers. When he stood upright again, the young ladies batted their eyes at him while his friends snatched goblets off a passing tray to lift in his honor. When they were done toasting him, they all turned to Carys and lifted their glasses again.
“To Princess Carys and the Throne of Light.”
They offered her a glass, from which she took a polite sip, as they all turned toward the throne and held their glasses aloft. Her head was spinning from the audacity of her actions—disrupting the formal ball, encouraging the young members of court to break free from their rigid roles. It was the very opposite of temperance. Her sense of triumph at the stern expression she saw on the faces of the older members of the court was fantastic. She spotted Andreus standing with Elder Cestrum and two of Eden’s High Lords. When he glanced her way, she waited for him to nod—to acknowledge her efforts to help him—as he always did when she stepped in front of him and took the worst of what this castle had to give.
But the look he gave her was dismissive, and panic flared.
Something had changed between them. Suddenly and dramatically, things had been altered.
But how? And why?
No. Andreus was just acting as if he were upset with her. That was their plan all along. He would win the Trials and together they would do what they had to in order to keep him safe and Eden secure.
The young lords and ladies moved through the crowd toward the dancing area. When one of the ladies offered to stay with Carys instead of dancing with the boy she clearly favored, Carys said she would join them on the dance floor soon and headed off to find the perfect partner. Someone who might be willing to continue her show.
She spotted him lounging against a column near the front of the Hall and headed toward him, ignoring several members of the court who tried to catch her attention along the way. Errik straightened and gave a deep bow as she approached.
“Lord Errik,” she said with a smile. “Do you by chance like to dance?”
He cocked his head to the side and studied her—his deep blue eyes gleaming in the bright hall. After a moment, he gave her a small smile. “All Trade Masters like to dance. We have to since the Kings and Queens we visit feel obligated to throw balls for us. How about you, Princess Carys. Do you like to dance?”
“I despise dancing,” she said with complete honesty. “Perhaps that’s why I’m so bad at it.”
“Honesty makes an already lovely woman far more beautiful,” he said, taking a step toward her. “But I find it hard to believe the Princess of Eden is a terrible dancer.”
“Are you calling me a liar, Lord Errik?” she asked.
“No.” Lord Errik’s dark eyes met hers. “I’m asking you to prove it.”
The musicians started a new song and Carys held out her hand in a way a lady would never do to a man. “When you can no longer walk, my lord, I ask you to remember that you have only yourself to blame.”
“I consider myself warned, Your Highness,” he said as he took her hand and strolled with her through the crowd of nobility and tournament champions, all of whom seemed to be watching her.
Growing up, Carys’s free time had been spent running guard maneuvers with Andreus so he could execute them flawlessly the first time during drills. If he only had to do them once, the chance of an attack was less likely. As a result, Carys never danced. She barely knew how. And today, she didn’t care.
She laughed as Errik took her in his arms. He was handsome and told her she was beautiful, and if she knocked him over during the dance it would get her and Andreus one step closer to their goal. She would make a fool of herself; she was determined to do so.
The music was fast. Errik’s hands were warm and his expression amused as they moved between the other couples on the floor. Several of Carys’s new friends smiled at her and Errik as they twirled by. Carys tripped as Errik spun her around and then laughed as he pulled her against his chest to keep her from stumbling into the couple dancing next to them.
“I fear, Highness,” he said, “you weren’t lying and neither was I. You are lovely.”
Her arms felt loose, and the harder she tried to think, the more her thoughts scattered. No doubt the Tears of Midnight were having their effect, flowing through her blood. Or maybe it was the warmth she felt with her hands pressed against Errik’s chest, knowing that she should move away and yet having no interest in doing so. Still his words made her frown.
“Do you doubt your appearance, Highness?” Lord Errik’s smile vanished. “There are hundreds of people here today who would tell you how lovely you are.”
“Nobility never tells the truth to those with more power than they have. It’s the unspoken oath they take.”
“Then I guess I will be the one person you can count on to tell you the truth about yourself,” Errik said, moving into a dance hold again and spinning her gently around the floor.
“Well, you’ve already said that I am a terrible dancer. Since we’ve only known each other a matter of hours, I fear there is very little truth you can tell me.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” He smiled and whirled her around. This time she didn’t stumble over her feet as the music grew faster and Errik held her tighter. “After all, I saw the real you at the tournament today. Many of us did, but I might be the only one who will tell you what those of us truly paying attention saw.”
Errik slowed their dance and she fought to clear the haze from her mind and focus. “The real me? I fear your truth telling has come to an end.”
“If you say so, Your Highness.” He spun her as the music came to a stop and executed a bow. When he came up, he met her eyes with his. “But anyone who draws and throws two stilettos accurately enough to kill a man from over fifty paces would have more than enough skill to hit the center of a target with an arrow at half that distance.”
“Sheer luck,” she said with a shrug as though his words didn’t make her heart pound and her hands sweat.