Page 23 of Crimson Kingdom
“Ah, well… hating Lairdnumptyisn’t new, so we must be referring to someone else.”
We dipped beneath the raised arms of one of the other couples before falling back into the steps of the dance.
“Evander, obviously,” I hissed at him, not sure why he was determined to make me say it out loud when he knew stars-damned good and well who I meant.
My cousin’s eyes lit up with amusement, and he made a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat. “Well, you certainly say his name like someone who hates him.”
I glared up at him, but he only chuckled in response. We finished out our dance in a comfortable silence.
Evander didn’t ask me to dance again, though he was never too far from wherever I stood, always close enough that I could hear Lady Fiona and literally every other woman in court giggle and swoon over him.
By the twelfth dance, Avani gestured with her head toward the door, and I nodded. I had more than enough playacting for the sake of peace this evening.
More than enough of this evening. Period.
She left first, and I made my excuses to an extra-stoic Theo, who insisted on escorting me out. Hairs stood on the back of my neck, and I felt someone’s gaze following me across the room and back out into the hall.
I told myself that it wasn’t Evander’s. His eyes were probably glued to Fiona’s willowy figure.
Besides, it didn’t matter.
None of it had mattered, right?
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Some nights I braved the solitude of my own rooms, but this was not one of those nights.
Avani and I were lounging in her large four-poster bed when a knock sounded at the door. Before either of us could get up, the heavy wood pushed open, and my mother came in.
She had a bottle of red wine tucked under her arm and three chalices in her hand.
“No pastries?” Avani asked.
“I thought tonight called for something stronger,” she said wryly.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Immediately, I saw Fiona’s fingers lingering on Evander’s forehead, and I popped my eyes open again.
“You thought right,” I assured her.
Avani nodded fervently next to me.
Mamá opened the bottle, pouring three generous glasses and handing them out before she settled on the bed next to us.
I took a long sip of mine without even bothering to let it aerate. It was bitter, but that was fine, because it matched my soul at the moment.
“So…” Mamá said. “Do you want to talk about what happened at the ball tonight?”
I mulled that over for a solid three seconds.
Did I want to talk about the man who kidnapped me and then saved me and then kissed me showing up, unannounced, after two months of silence, just in time to throw a wrench in my reluctant betrothal plans?
About what a completeaaliohe was once he got here?
Better yet, what about the way he had danced a solid four times with Lady stars-damned Fiona? Not that I was counting.
“I do not,” I answered definitively, nestling further back into the plush pillows behind me.
Avani shook her head in support, and Mamá surveyed both of us for a moment before nodding.