I nodded agreeably. “You speak the truth. However, as luck would have it, my skill at dancing is inversely proportional to my skill at cooking. Just stop fighting me.”
Qole stiffened even more at the suggestion, but then, miraculously, she relaxed, and I swept her in a simple pattern of half circles across the dance floor. The skirt of her gown looked like burning Shadow licking around both of our legs before I pulled her closer again—closer than before. The material covering her back where my hand was pressed was so thin, I could feel the heat of her body against my palm. I had to fight not to stare down at her, but, rather than awkwardness, I almost felt giddy. I loved to dance.
A single string left the ensemble to climb higher and higher. The bass began to beat faster with it, and every dancer on the floor responded. My feet remembered every step from hundreds of hours of practice, and I remembered my mother’s advice—I was there to provide the focus, the structure, for my partner. I was the frame, and Qole was the painting.
We circled, and in perfect tandem with the couples around us I placed both hands on Qole’s waist and lifted her for a full spin. Her hands instinctively found my shoulders, fingers tightening into me as her dress fluttered, revealing the smooth length of her leg.
Hundreds of couples spun through the air with us, movement and color blurring overhead, blending and fading into the points of light and darkness above us. When Qole dropped down, her body slid along mine. I felt like I was leaving the atmosphere.
We were together, finally. Now I’d have a few moments of peaceful conversation with her that no one could overhear, nestled in the dance floor like this, where everyone was only paying attention to their partners.
I leaned close to her ear to be discreet and caught the scent of her. There was spice there, leathers, metal. I should have apologized. I should have told her what to expect in the next few days. Instead something else seized control of my brain and words I hadn’t even begun to consider saying came out:
“It’s really good to see you.”
The calm on Qole’s face flickered, and I thought perhaps I had upset her somehow. Again.
But then she finally said, “I’m…glad. Too.” She challenged me with her gaze to make a joke about it. I couldn’t have if I’d tried, since I was far too busy being ridiculously pleased.
“Look, I’m sorry my family was so awkward with you,” I said. “In truth, they aren’t accustomed to dealing with outsiders any more than people on Alaxak are.”
“But Alaxans have reasons to hate outsiders, particularly the Dracortes—not the other way around,” Qole remarked without looking up at me, her lowered eyelids as dark as when her gaze was Shadow-filled. Her fingers tightened a fraction in mine. “Congratulations on your upcoming wedding, by the way.”
I grimaced. Qole, being Qole, was not beating around the bush. I hadn’t intentionally neglected to mention my betrothal, but the truth was that Qole made me wish Ket didn’t exist. “Congratulations aren’t exactly in order. The marriage is a political convenience. Every member of the royal family is paired with whoever is viewed as the best mate. We don’t have any say in the matter.”
It was what I’d been wanting to tell her all evening, and I felt like she had to understand.
“Sounds…romantic,” she replied. “So, what, would you prefer condolences?”
We circled with a group of dancers, moving in rhythm to the strings and with the bodies around us. As the bass crashed into a long, low reverb, we all dipped our partners, and I supported Qole’s weight in the crook of my arm. She resisted at first, tensing, but then she melted into me. Her waist against my arm, the movement of her body, felt as though it were feeding some part of me that was ravenous. I wrenched my eyes up to hers, and we lifted back into position.
I changed my mind—all evening I had been wanting to talk to Qole, but now all I wanted was this. To be with her, holding her, moving to the music.
And definitely not discussing my impending marriage.
“Not condolences either, no.” I sought for a better way to explain. “While it is a part of our lives, it’s a formality.”
“Maybe that’s why you forgot to mention it.”
“I didn’t mention it because it doesn’t matter. Ket doesn’t mean anything to me; it’s simply that her bloodline, parenting, and genetics will work best with mine. Besides, pairings like this don’t really change the outside relationships of many people.”
Qole’s eyes narrowed, but her voice was neutral when she spoke. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that many royals are in love and have relationships with others, even of lower classes, despite their official marriage. It’s not advertised, but it’s a well-known and accepted fact of life.”
“It’s sure not an accepted fact of life anywhere I’ve been.” Her tone was no longer neutral, it was distinctly cold. “I don’t know who would agree to come second—or third?—to that…” She swallowed whatever she was about to say in a bitter mouthful. “Although, right, what would I know? I haven’t even been many places. But at least where I’m from we still have our pride, despite how much has been taken from us.”
“Qole…”
Her brief silence was just as frosty. “But you don’t mind if someone’s poor, hey?”
This was treacherous ground. Her accent always meant trouble. It came out stronger only when she was distracted or furious, and she definitely wasn’t distracted. From me, at any rate. She was so focused on our argument that she was actually dancing rather well.
“No, I—” I didn’t get far.
“Then all those lucky girls will be so grateful for your interest.” Sarcasm wasn’t like her, but it seemed like she’d been practicing.
“No, I don’t want that,” I insisted.
“Oh, just the royal classes then, because everyone else’s genes are so far beneath you?”
“No, I didn’t mean that, either!” Once again, language was utterly failing me with Qole. “I mean that I can still have whatever relationship I want. Systems, no, I mean…”
I want you. But I couldn’t say it. Not when she was glaring at me like she wanted to kill me. At the same time, her eyes were growing more distant. It was like she was slipping away from me, and I didn’t know how to stop it.
“Since you can supposedly have whatever—whomever—you might want,” she bit out, “then you shouldn’t have to marry the ice-raker, hey?”
Ice-raker? Whatever that was, I gathered whom she meant. Frustration bubbled up within me. “Of course I have to.” I jerked my head to encompass the people, the party. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Qole stopped, and I almost bumped into her. “Not to me.”
“Then I must be doing a very poor job explaining, because it’s not like you’re making this any harder than it has to be,” I hissed with sarcasm to equal hers. “It’s just an aspect of royal life you obviously can’t understand.”