The princess latched on to the mention of Teague. “How does Teague send it to you?”
His mother glared at the princess. “He sends Daan, of course. Can’t trust an expensive product like apodrasi to just anyone. But everyone says the collector is dead, and Teague is busy trying to figure out who killed him, who’s coming after his business, and now I’m out.”
Sebastian glanced out the window and saw a crowd gathering below. His chest tightened until it hurt to breathe. He needed to hurry this along. The sun would set in little more than an hour, and he needed to have the princess long gone from this part of the city before then. It was much harder for the street bosses to control people when no one could see what they were doing.
“Mother, do you know where Teague lives?”
She straightened. “Wouldn’t tell you if I did, now would I? I know how to be loyal. Learned that from your father. It’s a lesson that didn’t ever seem to take with you.”
The princess patted his mother’s hand gently. “Maybe I could go to Teague’s home and get what you need. Would that help?”
His mother turned her hand over and grasped Ari, palm to palm. “You do that. You go there and bring me a vial of apodrasi.”
“I will,” the princess said solemnly. “Tell me where to go, and I’ll do it.”
His mother’s lip curled. “I can’t tell you where to go, stupid girl. Only the collectors know where he lives. Give me coin. I’ll buy it myself.”
Sebastian stepped forward and disentangled the princess’s hand from his mother’s. “I’ll send more food next week, Mother. Don’t forget to eat.”
He hurried the princess from the room as his mother hurled invectives at their backs. The crowd parted sluggishly for them, but Sebastian moved with purpose, flexing his shoulders and glaring at everyone who would meet his gaze.
He didn’t realize he was shaking until they walked out of east Kosim Thalas without injury.
The princess said, “Now we know that Teague is distracted by the loss of his collector and that only collectors know where he lives,” and then stayed quiet while they wound their way through the merchant district and toward the hill that led to the palace.
Sebastian was in agony. Was she disgusted by the truth of his upbringing? Did she pity him? Would she look at him and see him through the bitter lens of his mother’s eyes?
They reached the bottom of the hill, the only two people left climbing toward the palace this close to sunset. The princess stopped and turned to him.
He ordered himself to meet her eyes without flinching. To shove his fears and shame into a box and show her nothing while he waited for her judgment.
She tilted her head back and studied him for a moment. He couldn’t find any hint of pity on her face, but he braced to hear it in her voice.
Finally, she said, “There’s a ball at the palace tomorrow night.”
He frowned. “I . . . What?”
What did that have to do with east Kosim Thalas and the miserable hovel he’d called a home?
“Dancing. Fancy dresses. And really excellent snacks.”
“Oh.”
She leaned closer and locked eyes with him. “I’d like you to go with me.”
He opened his mouth, but found he had absolutely nothing to say.
“Sebastian Vaughn, my loyal, strong, faithful friend, I would be honored to go to the ball with you.”
She waited, but he still couldn’t find a single response.
He couldn’t go to a ball. Out of the question. That was for nobility. What would he wear? What would he do? Her reputation would be in tatters. He would make a fool of himself and probably lose his job.
It was preposterous.
And yet, her words wrapped around the tightness in his chest and loosened the knot until he could breathe again.
She’d be honored to go with him. She’d seen where he’d come from. She’d heard his mother’s hate. And still she’d be honored to be seen by everyone.
With him.
His lips twitched upward, and warmth spread through him as he said, “I can’t dance.”
“Dancing is for people who don’t truly appreciate the buffet.”
“I have nothing to wear.”
“I’ll find something for you.”
“The nobility will gossip about you until the day you die,” he said. One last attempt to talk sense into her even though he knew it was a lost cause.
“They needed a new hobby anyway.” She smiled at him. “What do you say? Will you go with me?”
Stars help him. “Yes.”
TWENTY-TWO
SEBASTIAN HAD LOST his mind.
There was no other explanation why a boy from east Kosim Thalas would be standing just inside the servants’ entrance to the kitchen, wearing a fancy silk-blend dress coat, pants, shirt, and pocket handkerchief.
A pocket handkerchief.
Until this morning, when Princess Arianna had brought him a stack of borrowed clothes, he hadn’t even known such a thing existed.
His stomach felt as though he’d swallowed rocks. He kept pulling at the buttoned collar of his shirt and fidgeting with the strap he’d used to secure his cudgel beneath his long-tailed coat. Staring out the large window above the sinks, he watched carriage after carriage roll to a stop in front of the palace, disgorging another group of well-dressed nobility before making room for the next vehicle, and a band of anxiety wrapped around his chest and tightened until it hurt.
He couldn’t do this. Not even for the princess. He couldn’t go into a crowded ballroom. He couldn’t bear to brush up against so many people. His pulse thundered, his blood raced through his veins like fire, and he retreated until his back was against the door.
He’d tell the princess he was sorry. She’d understand.
He’d tell her he appreciated the gesture, but that he was better off in his servant’s quarters. She’d understand that too.
He groaned and dropped his face into his hands.
“Sebastian?”
He looked up, and the fear racking his body boiled into something far more dangerous.
She was beautiful.
He’d known that, of course. Stars knew, they’d spent enough hours together every day for the past month that he was familiar with the way the sun glistened against her golden skin and the way it lightened strands of her thick brown hair. He had her smiles memorized, and he could read her every emotion in her dark eyes.
But this.
This stole his breath and doubled his pulse. This made him want to dance with her even though it meant touching her—maybe because it meant touching her.
Her dress, a deep green edged with silver, lingered over every curve of her body. He stared at her plunging neckline, tore his gaze away, and then found himself looking at way the fabric curved over her hips before finally widening out into a skirt fit for dancing.
“Are you all right?” she asked as she moved toward him, her hips swaying with every step.
He was never going to be all right again. He was staring at the princess—like he wanted something he had no right to want.