“By the Creator,” Cyrene whispered.
She stared through the massive double doors that opened to the ballroom where her ascension as an Affiliate would take place. The room had curved ceilings and stained-glass windows in beautiful blues and greens. Black marble, imported all the way from across Emporia at the base of the Barren Mountains, tiled the vast floor. A six-foot-high fireplace roared to life at the far end of the room. Multiple black wrought iron chandeliers dangled from the ceiling, illuminating the room with large wax candles.
A string quartet with their quick-paced melodies guided couples across the open dance floor. Dozens of Affiliates and High Order were in attendance, and gold pins glimmered from gowns of nearly every passing woman.
A shiver ran down her. She pushed back the thought of what Rhea’s reaction might have been. It wouldn’t help Cyrene this evening.
She took a breath and then walked into the room. She had only made it a few steps before someone drunkenly careened into her. She yelped on impact and stumbled forward, reaching out for the nearest person to keep her from toppling to the ground. A faint tear sounded as she seized the sleeve of a man in front of her.
Turning, he snatched her out of midair, twirled her in place, and held her in his arms. Cyrene’s cheeks were flushed in horror.
“Are you all right?” he asked¸ slowly placing her back on her feet.
“Yes…yes, I’m fine.” Her head swiveled from side to side, trying to search out the person who had run into her. What kind of mule headed idiot barreled into someone like that? There he was. She watched a disheveled man with dark hair drunkenly lurch through the crowd.
“Affiliate?” The gentleman reached out for her hand.
“Yes. Sorry.” She glanced at the man for the first time.
Her world tilted as her eyes met blue-gray orbs shining with concern. He had the same strong jawline, the same broad-shouldered stature, the same eyes. She would have recognized the similarities between the man standing before her and the King any day.
“Uh…I mean…”
A knowing smirk crossed his face. “I don’t believe we have been formally introduced.” He reached for her hand and softly kissed it. “I am Crown Prince Kael Dremylon.”
Crown Prince.
The formal title felt like ice throughout her bones. How could I have been so stupid as to tear the Prince’s garment?
She dropped a hasty curtsy. “Your Highness, my apologies for tearing your garment. I am Cyrene Strohm…Affiliate Cyrene Strohm.”
“Ah, the newest member of court, I see,” he said with a laugh in his voice she didn’t understand. “You may rise, Affiliate Cyrene. The ball is in your honor tonight, is it not?”
“Yes, that it is, uh…Your Highness.”
Prince Kael raised her chin. She could smell his heady musky scent, and she felt a small zap of electricity pass between them. She swallowed hard but didn’t look away.
This close, she could tell the differences between him and King Edric. The King was roughly shaven with high-chiseled cheekbones, cropped short hair, and strong, hard features. Prince Kael was more beautiful than handsome with a smoothness that showed he was a youth of only eighteen. But it was the smug smirk on his mouth, the arrogant set of his shoulders, and the daring, almost brazen look in his eyes that truly set him apart from his brother. He looked much more like his mother, Queen Adelaida—the Creator bless her soul.
There was an underlying deviousness she found herself attracted to despite herself.
“Kael will suffice, if you please.”
“Of course, Your High—Kael.” She couldn’t believe she was addressing a member of the royal family by his given name. “I am terribly sorry about your dress garments. Do allow me to replace them.”
“Nonsense. All I’ll require from you, Affiliate Cyrene, is the first dance.” He formally bent forward, offering her his hand.
Cyrene’s head swam with delight. The Prince was asking her for the first dance of the evening. The honor was typically reserved for a queen or consort. At the very least, royalty would bestow their graces on men and women of their high circle. But he had picked her!
She lightly placed her hand in his own, and he wheeled her toward the dance floor. The quick jig ended and flowed into the smoother melody of “Haenah de’Lorlah,” one of her favorites. The movements slow and deliberate, the intimate dance was meant to appear as if the couple was floating effortlessly above the surface.
Prince Kael was by far the best dancer she had ever partnered with. Leading her around the room with ease, he made the steps seem as if they were actually floating. It shouldn’t have surprised her, given he was royalty, but having never experienced such an incredible match, she could hardly keep the shock and exultation from her face.
He swept her along, passing a blur of faces she neither recognized nor cared about in that moment. Thoughts of the exotic dress draped across her frame and the firm embrace of the Crown Prince of Byern were lost to her as she kept up with Prince Kael’s graceful footwork.
Their feet stilled on the black marble surface at the close of the song. With a flourish, Prince Kael bowed deeply, and Cyrene sank into a graceful curtsy.
As the emotions of the dance had taken over, her breathing had turned ragged. While the steps had not been difficult, she felt as if she had somehow poured more of herself into the movements. The feeling was exhausting yet exhilarating. She was on fire, and she needed water to even begin to douse the flames.
Cyrene broke from her reverie by the sound of faint applause. She tore her eyes from Prince Kael’s and realized that guests were openly staring at them.
“Cyrene, you are an intoxicating dancer.” Prince Kael drew her away from the crowd.
“Thank you,” she breathed unsteadily. “You are quite good yourself.” She hid the true weight of her statement behind hooded eyes and a coy smile.
“Allow me to get you a refreshment.”
He reached for two goblets of wine, and she gratefully took the glass out of his hand and took a sip. She didn’t drink often, but the wine was extremely high quality, and she could hardly resist.
Cyrene noticed when Prince Kael’s attention was diverted. Following his gaze, she jumped slightly in surprise, nearly slopping the wine out of her glass.
King Edric.
Cyrene fell into a deep curtsy. “Your Highness.”
“Affiliate Cyrene.” King Edric inclined his head as she rose. “Kael,” he brusquely acknowledged his brother, grasping his forearm. “You seem to be capturing all of Cyrene’s attention at her own ball.”
If Cyrene didn’t see the sneer cross Prince Kael’s face, she would never have believed it were there when he addressed King Edric.
Prince Kale’s demeanor seamlessly shifted into an aloof front with a mocking smile. “How could I not steal the attention of such a beautiful woman?”
“I certainly cannot blame you.”
She hastily took a sip of her wine to avoid the heated gazes of the men staring down upon her. Her heart was still thumping from the dance, and the magnetic pull she felt from both of them kept her even more off balance. How did I end up between the two most powerful men in the kingdom?
“You are quite the dancer, Cyrene,” King Edric said with a mischievous glint in his eye.
“You flatter. My dance skills are perfectly adequate.”
“On the contrary, you and my brother ignited the floor.” His gaze shifted from her to Prince Kael, who was hiding a steely glare behind his own blue-gray eyes.
“I thank you very much. However, I must give credit where credit is due.” She lightly laid her hand against Prince Kael’s shirtsleeve and smiled at both men.
“Then, perhaps you will allow me to show you the steps of a king.” King Edric held his hand out for her.
Cyrene slowly removed her hand from Prince Kael and placed it in King Edric’s. Her throat tightened. She was about to dance with the King of Byern. She couldn’t believe it.
Affiliates associated with the queen and consort on a regular basis. But the king?
King Edric turned his attention back to his brother. “Kael, I do hope you would do Queen Kaliana the same honor you bestowed upon Affiliate Cyrene and entertain us with the next dance.”
Prince Kael nodded, his jaw set. “Of course,” he said with a stiff bow. He strode across the room to where the Queen stood, surrounded by a cluster of brown-nosing Affiliates.
“After you,” King Edric said.
Two columns of dancers formed in the center of the floor, men on one side and women on the other. King Edric took the head of one, and Cyrene fell into place across from him. Queen Kaliana placed herself opposite Prince Kael on the other end. Cyrene tore her gaze away from the other dancers and laid her eyes on the man—the King—standing before her.
King Edric snapped his fingers at the string quartet, and they immediately straightened, drawing their bows.
Violinists seductively strummed the opening chords of “Cat’s Cradle,” and men bowed as the women demurely curtsied. The dance was intricate with elaborate weaving patterns, opening and closing circles, and partners swapping at specific times.
The King seemed much at ease with the steps as he flawlessly led her through the first weave.
“You’re wearing that color again,” King Edric said.
“I thought you quite liked it.”
“Have your eyes failed you tonight?” He twirled her around another couple.
“What could you possibly mean?”
“I’ve told you once before that no one wears such a color in my court.” He eyed the cut of the dress rather deliberately.
“I guess I will have to return the commission I ordered today.” She knew she had to act quickly as the time in the dance where she would be swept from person to person was approaching, and then it would be over. “I informed my seamstress of your affection for the color, and she redid my entire wardrobe in the bright hues, My King.” Or at least, she would do so when she left.
King Edric looked down upon her face, his expression as near to shock as Cyrene had ever seen on him. He recovered swiftly, clearly determined to set her straight on his opinion about her attire, but at that moment, she was pushed into the arms of a member of the High Order. As she was carried from person to person throughout the dance, she hardly remembered their names. Some of the men were simply adequate, and others spun her in circles that made her neck ache while one or two more were nearly on par with King Edric and Prince Kael—though certainly no one would suggest it.
A moment later, she was thrust back into the King’s arms, and she smirked up at him.
“You really do wear that smirk all the time, don’t you?”
“I said I did at my Presenting. Are you inferring that I would lie to Your Majesty?”
“No more than your insinuation for having an affinity for the weather,” he countered.
Cyrene almost laughed. She had been joking of course when she had told the King that Elea thought Cyrene could predict the weather.
As the music changed, they filed back into the two lines in which the couples had initially stood. She dropped her curtsy to the men’s side, and the King nodded in acknowledgment. The dancers broke off and returned to the circle of friends they had left behind.
King Edric approached her once more with a smile for the watching courtiers. “A fine dance, Affiliate Cyrene,” he complimented openly.
“You do me a great honor.” She tilted her head in acceptance of his praise.
“I do wish you good luck in your training tomorrow.”
“With your blessing, I am certain I will do all I can for Byern,” she murmured.
He stared at her thoughtfully for a second before he turned and strode away to his Consort. Cyrene had no idea how she had garnered this much attention or what it all meant.