Inari hid her discomfort over the attempted drugging by spinning effortlessly into Elias Ahtissari’s arms. She did not miss the sudden whispers and murmurs in the crowd, and sincerely hoped the distraction technique worked as planned. Better her friends and acquaintances—and the hooligan who attempted to drug her drink—saw that she was unscathed and had all her wits about her.

Oh yes. She thought the perpetrator was still among them. Lurking in the room around the fringe of polite society, waiting for her to become a slobbering, incoherent mess. She imagined a scandalous scene of staged photographs of her drunk off her butt, with the best of the lot sold to the highest bidder. Tabloids the world over would exploit her misfortune. What a horrible scenario.

“That was my foot,” Elias said, interrupting her reverie.

“Pardon me?”

“I said that was my foot. You’ve stepped on it three times now.” He looked and sounded amused.

“I didn’t notice. I’m sorry. You don’t seem to have suffered any ill effects,” she pointed out. Elias—whom she had not seen in an eternity—proved to be a better dancer than she imagined. He kept his broad shoulders square, his spine straight, and possessed incredible rhythm.

“It takes more than that to throw me off balance, Inari. I told you so that you can correct your steps. I’m sure you don’t want your unfancy footwork to show up all over social media later tonight. You started out flawless, but the last few minutes or so you’ve been completely distracted.”

He was right. She didn’t want sloppy footwork all over social media. Videos, like pictures, lasted forever.

“Thank you for the reminder,” she said, chin lifting an inch. From that moment, she concentrated solely on the dance. Conjecture over the evening’s events could wait until later.

As the tempo of the music increased, so did the speed of their dance, until the faces of the other guests became nothing but a blur.

She glanced up into Elias’s face, surprised to find him grinning.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, wishing she’d worn taller heels. Elias stood at least six feet four, leaving her at a noticeable deficit despite her own height of five nine.

“You. One moment you’re a million miles away, the next you’re dancing as if we’re in competition.”

“You can’t have it both ways. You wanted me to focus; I’m focusing.”

“I didn’t want you to focus. I’m perfectly happy to look you up later on social media, stepping all over my toes.” His smile grew exponentially.

Inari scoffed. “You’re just as much of a liar now as you were four years ago.”

Elias’s expression shifted into one of shock, which pleased Inari immensely.

“When did I lie? And it wasn’t four years. It was three,” he said.

“Four,” she argued, performing the next series of turns with the same precision she’d shown in the beginning of the dance. “And you lied when you complimented my gown that night. It was Lord Rittenhouse’s ball, if I remember correctly.”

His brows arched. “My complimenting your dress was a lie?”

“Yes. Because I allowed my dressmaker to choose the style, and it was a horrid choice. You can’t stand here and tell me that you’d compliment the same dress today.”

“Honestly, Inari, I don’t remember a damn thing about that dress. I couldn’t tell you what color it was or how it fit or anything else.”

“So not only did you lie about the dress, you didn’t mean the compliment when you said it. I see you’ve changed for the worse since we were younger,” she said. Inari couldn’t help baiting the prince a little. The more incredulous Elias looked, the more it amused her. And it was a pleasant distraction from the events of the night.

Elias laughed. Hard. A baritone, booming sound that drew many glances.

“Judas’s boots, woman. There is no pleasing you, is there?” he asked.

Inari stifled her own amusement, bringing the dance to a close as the music wound down. A new song would start before the final notes rang into the room, but she had no intention of entering another round with him. “I’m very particular when it comes to the caliber of men I’m seen with. You, sir, fall far short of the mark.”

With that, she bowed her head in gratitude for the dance and left Elias Ahtissari high and dry on the dance floor.

She didn’t mean a word of it, of course. Elias had a reputation of honor and trust among his peers, and was the most sought-after bachelor in five kingdoms. As far as caliber went, he surpassed any ‘list’ she might have had.

But what was good for the goose was good for the gander, as they used to say.

Tit for tat.

With a sudden rush of warm heat, she felt Elias’s breath on her ear.

“Liar.”

Inari muffled a laugh and glanced back, prepared to give the prince a teasing piece of her mind.

He was already gone.

---

Elias was not as adept at stealth as Jeremiah, but he could get lost in a crowd easily enough. He carried a wealth of amusement away from his conversation with Inari, though it faded by degrees as he scanned the room for Jeremiah, anxious for an update. While he was at it, he remained aware for anything else that seemed out of place or suspicious.

Anyone who acted out of place or suspicious.

A hand landed on his shoulder unexpectedly. He knew right away that it was not Jeremiah’s brotherly clap.

“If it isn’t the prince and the princess, dancing for the world to see. Hell’s bells, Elias. Do you have designs on the future queen of Somero?”

Elias laughed as he faced Caspian, extending one hand for a familiar handshake. “Finally, our host comes to call. It’s about time. Where have you been all evening?”

“I’ve been around. It’s you who’ve been distracted with the women, as usual.” Caspian smiled as he shook Elias’s hand. The two were as different as night and day: Caspian was dark to Elias’s light, with ink-black hair and gray eyes. He stood precisely three inches shorter than Elias’s six-four stature, though his posture was confident and self-assured.

Elias scoffed. “One woman, one dance. If I danced with no one, then everyone would be talking about that.”

“Not just a woman, though. There will be talk and pictures all over the internet tomorrow,” Caspian said, still grinning.

Elias stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I think that was her plan. Have you heard?”

“Heard what?” Caspian looked bewildered but lowered his voice accordingly.

“About Inari’s unfortunate incident tonight?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Caspian said.

“You will. Your guards will notify you shortly. Let’s retreat to your private parlor for a moment.” Elias didn’t want to get into a deep discussion among the crowd. People were everywhere, brushing against him, against Caspian, on their way somewhere else. One wrong overheard word might ruin Inari’s discretion.

Caspian led the way through the throng, smiling at his guests as if nothing were the matter. Elias appreciated Caspian’s ability to grasp the importance of the situation and act accordingly. He too shared a few smiles with guests he knew, then veered away down a corridor, easily keeping up with Caspian’s brisk pace.

Caspian’s private parlor, accessed only by a code tapped into a hidden keypad beside the double doors, looked the same as it ever had. Three arching, cathedral-style windows stood to the right, overlooking the castle’s impressive grounds, while the rest of the parlor consisted of carefully arranged sofas, chairs and a single chaise lounge. Baroque accents offset walls lined with ancestral paintings in elaborate gilt frames. A floor-to-ceiling fireplace, replete with cherubs carved into the marble, provided a centerpiece to conversation. Elias chose to lean against the mantel rather than take a seat on the furniture.

“So what’s all this with Inari, then? Was your dance a distraction?” Caspian asked.

“You always were quite astute. Yes, it was.” Elias pinned Caspian with a direct look. “I happened to see someone try and drug the princess. Used a vial, tipped it into her glass. Luckily, I got there before she took a drink.”

Caspian had been just about to sit down, but lurched back to his feet, frowning. “The devil. Are you serious—no. Don’t answer that. Of course you’re serious. Did you notify the guards? Is the perpetrator in custody?”

“I notified her guards, yes. And handed off the glass to her people to be tested, see what kind of drug it was.” Elias crossed his arms over his chest. The suit coat pulled taut across the breadth of his back. “No one saw the perpetrator. I sent Jeremiah to look, but there were too many people around Inari at the time. I only saw a sleeve and a hand.”

Caspian stalked to the door of the parlor and had a word with one of his guards in the hallway. Moments later, he returned. “I’ve set my men on it. I think we should call the authorities, lock down the castle.”

Elias unfolded his arms long enough to put a palm out to Caspian. “That was my first reaction as well. But hold a moment. If you tell future leaders they cannot leave the castle, or the ballroom, due to a drugging incident, you’re probably going to piss off a lot of people and offend the rest. Even suggesting guilt isn’t going to go over well. If there weren’t future kings and queens out there, it would be different.”

Caspian paced through the parlor, fingers rubbing his smooth shaved chin. He paused near the arm of a wingback. “If we do nothing, then the perpetrator might become emboldened. Try it again. This time, he may not try drugging but kidnapping. And what kind of effect will that have on Imatra’s reputation? Hell, my reputation? It happened on my watch.”

“Whoever it was has probably seen the uptick in security. Her guards are on it, Jeremiah’s out looking, and now your guards will be seen. I think an open kidnapping attempt is unlikely—at least tonight. Do you have surveillance cameras set up in the ballroom? That would be the most expedient way to catch the person who did this.”

Caspian snapped his fingers. “Yes. Let’s go look at the footage.”

Elias pushed from his lean and followed Caspian out of the parlor.

With any luck, they would have the perpetrator—if the man was still on the grounds—in their custody shortly.

If the man had made a clean getaway, they would still have a face to run through recognition systems.

Either way, Elias thought the perpetrator’s freedom was nearing an end.