disheartening spectacle, I spied my betrothed approaching his mistress, the woman I’d freed in the library, with her pale hair and her bright crimson gown. Oh, why had she returned? Amatos, the entire country would see me as a laughingstock if he dallied with his mistress openly here. I should have left her tied up in the library.
My fists clenched as Erich whispered something to her. She scowled at him and shook her head. Thank the gods, he turned away from her and moved towards the dessert sideboard.
I exhaled at my reprieve and retreated into a quiet corner of the ballroom near some windows to assess the situation, turning my back on the fluttering fans and whispered innuendos. I pushed aside the drapes to stare into the darkening night.
Chapter Four
“ S terling .” The blue velvet drape flicked from my hand and snapped closed. I turned and my lips met a chocolate-dipped madeleine cake. My favorite. I blinked up into a smirking face.
“Have a bite,” Erich Talata said. Sleek muscles rippled in his arm as he pushed the madeleine against my mouth.
Flustered, I did as he said, trying to keep my bite dainty. But he let go the cake, as though afraid I might bite him , and half fell to the ground.
We both stared at the fallen cake and said nothing. I lifted my gaze first.
He did indeed wear gold dust in his hair. That spoke of a desire to appear rich and sophisticated, even if he had selected a slave’s costume. I suspected he’d only picked the costume because he knew how well it showed off his perfect form; the man was vain. And why shouldn’t he be?
“My mistress says you freed her from her ... situation ... in the library,” he said as he finally looked up.
His eyes, gazing out from the mask that covered so little, slayed me. Every proud intention to put him in his place for bringing up his mistress only moments after our betrothal flew right out the window when I looked at his eyes. I considered debasing myself with any kind of disgusting animalistic activities with him, if only the gods would guarantee my children had his eyes. They were a medium blue, untouched by green or grey or violet. Almond-shaped, with long lashes. If I had carried scissors in my pocket, I would have cut off those lashes to steal for myself.
“Yes, well, you shouldn’t have left her trapped like that,” I said distractedly, peering around him to monitor the ball. Another dancing set was starting. The viols screeched with the fast rhythm of a darfossa, and couples lined up to whirl through the ballroom in barely-controlled passes.
I spotted Papa departing from the main doors, holding the arm of the black-haired navel-dancer. I turned all the way around to get a better look at them through the dancing crowd. The woman was smaller than Ghilene—it couldn’t be her.
“She deserved it.” Erich stepped in front of me, blocking my view. He seemed uncomfortable; he kicked at the fallen madeleine and ran his gloved hands through that gold-dusted hair. The cellos thrummed a relentless bass line. Erich nearly had to shout, “You should know, she means nothing to me. My mistress, I mean. You don’t—”
“I thought you rather liked the scent of her thighs,” I said.
Erich froze with his hand mid-air. His head tilted. “ What?”
Oh, why did my tongue always run out of my control? Thank Amassis for my mask, which mostly covered my raging blush.
Even Erich had the good sense to flush, though I suspected such color did not come often to those well-sculpted cheeks. He leaned close to me so he didn’t have to speak so loudly over the music. “What did you see?”
I couldn’t tell if he was amused or angry. “Ah—everything.”
He laughed, that same dry laugh he had offered his paramour in the library. “Did I give you second thoughts?”
“I know my duty,” I said stiffly, pushing my back against the drapes and side-stepping so I could see around Erich, wishing we were not so visible in the ballroom. Though many of
My fists clenched as Erich whispered something to her. She scowled at him and shook her head. Thank the gods, he turned away from her and moved towards the dessert sideboard.
I exhaled at my reprieve and retreated into a quiet corner of the ballroom near some windows to assess the situation, turning my back on the fluttering fans and whispered innuendos. I pushed aside the drapes to stare into the darkening night.
Chapter Four
“ S terling .” The blue velvet drape flicked from my hand and snapped closed. I turned and my lips met a chocolate-dipped madeleine cake. My favorite. I blinked up into a smirking face.
“Have a bite,” Erich Talata said. Sleek muscles rippled in his arm as he pushed the madeleine against my mouth.
Flustered, I did as he said, trying to keep my bite dainty. But he let go the cake, as though afraid I might bite him , and half fell to the ground.
We both stared at the fallen cake and said nothing. I lifted my gaze first.
He did indeed wear gold dust in his hair. That spoke of a desire to appear rich and sophisticated, even if he had selected a slave’s costume. I suspected he’d only picked the costume because he knew how well it showed off his perfect form; the man was vain. And why shouldn’t he be?
“My mistress says you freed her from her ... situation ... in the library,” he said as he finally looked up.
His eyes, gazing out from the mask that covered so little, slayed me. Every proud intention to put him in his place for bringing up his mistress only moments after our betrothal flew right out the window when I looked at his eyes. I considered debasing myself with any kind of disgusting animalistic activities with him, if only the gods would guarantee my children had his eyes. They were a medium blue, untouched by green or grey or violet. Almond-shaped, with long lashes. If I had carried scissors in my pocket, I would have cut off those lashes to steal for myself.
“Yes, well, you shouldn’t have left her trapped like that,” I said distractedly, peering around him to monitor the ball. Another dancing set was starting. The viols screeched with the fast rhythm of a darfossa, and couples lined up to whirl through the ballroom in barely-controlled passes.
I spotted Papa departing from the main doors, holding the arm of the black-haired navel-dancer. I turned all the way around to get a better look at them through the dancing crowd. The woman was smaller than Ghilene—it couldn’t be her.
“She deserved it.” Erich stepped in front of me, blocking my view. He seemed uncomfortable; he kicked at the fallen madeleine and ran his gloved hands through that gold-dusted hair. The cellos thrummed a relentless bass line. Erich nearly had to shout, “You should know, she means nothing to me. My mistress, I mean. You don’t—”
“I thought you rather liked the scent of her thighs,” I said.
Erich froze with his hand mid-air. His head tilted. “ What?”
Oh, why did my tongue always run out of my control? Thank Amassis for my mask, which mostly covered my raging blush.
Even Erich had the good sense to flush, though I suspected such color did not come often to those well-sculpted cheeks. He leaned close to me so he didn’t have to speak so loudly over the music. “What did you see?”
I couldn’t tell if he was amused or angry. “Ah—everything.”
He laughed, that same dry laugh he had offered his paramour in the library. “Did I give you second thoughts?”
“I know my duty,” I said stiffly, pushing my back against the drapes and side-stepping so I could see around Erich, wishing we were not so visible in the ballroom. Though many of
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