4

Attraction is Maddening

Instinctively, I shield my face as I stumble forward.

But when I don't meet the ground, I glance down, noticing hands that are not mine wrapped around my waist. I am quickly twisted, and my vision plays catch-up as I come face to face with the mysterious man from earlier.

Not who I was expecting to run into.

His ice-cold eyes survey me darkly as a rich cologne drowns my senses.

I stumble through each inhalation of his intoxicating scent. "F-Forgive me, my lord."

He squeezes my sides quickly, helping me upright. The warmth from his touch expands from my waist downward.

I brush my hands on my dress, trying to conceal my skin heating.

Calm yourself, Tove.

As I tug my dress and sweep the fabric, I catch the man's shoes, noticing the dark stain surrounding the edges. Lifting my brows, I wonder who arrives at a ball with stained boots?

His low, sultry voice pulls me from my question.

"I'm glad I was able to save you, My Queen." He blatantly scans my full body, blue eyes lingering on my chest and hips before returning to my gaze.

I copy him, not letting my intimidation by him deter me.

"Yes," I say in my cold voice, but I ease my tone a bit, gambling on letting a little vulnerability through. "Thank you for that. I would have been in trouble."

A crooked smirk appears with a perfect dimple pierced in the side of his cheek. "You are the queen, right?"

"Yes?" I am unsure of where he is going with his question.

He looks around before leaning in, waving at me to do the same, as if he were wishing to share a secret.

I oblige him, dipping my head slightly.

His voice, so soft and dangerous, whispers, "Then, who would you be in trouble with?"

A snort breaks out, and I cover my mouth when his eyes widen in surprise.

Sweet Makers, I should not have let that laugh slip.

I should go back to the party and find Niko. Or maybe I should make a run for my room now to save me from causing any more disasters around this man and anyone else this evening.

The idea of hiding away tugs at me regardless of the trouble I could get into with Niko about abandoning the party too early. But obligation and everyone's happiness weighs on my shoulders, and I should cut my losses here with this man, my embarrassment killing my chances for me.

Glancing back to the party, I mentally prepare myself for my return. "I should probably head back there. Thank you again for your assistance." I move to sidestep him, only to pause by the soft touch at my elbow.

"May I escort you back?" he asks, all jokes tossed aside.

I am unsure why I agree, but his lips lift as he takes my hand and drapes it over his arm. The effort is smooth and gallant, making me wonder where he comes from.

We saunter down the hall in silence, my nerves and thoughts already ten steps ahead while I think of how everyone will take my return as we drift into the brightly lit ballroom.

Guests hover near the entrance, bowing as we stroll past.

I refrain from warning my escort of my nickname, assuming he already is well versed on my reputation. But even through maintaining my regal appearance, I catch the man sneaking glances at me.

"If you are feeling alright, would you join me for a dance?" he asks.

As much as I want to sit and forget my little mishap, I can't turn down a chance to dance. I dip my head, letting him lead me to the dance floor.

We wait on the sidelines for the music to end with the rest of the crowd when Queen Verena Lorenz of Unterkirch approaches with her daughter, Princess Sybille, in tow.

Both the mother and daughter have long raven hair adorned with small, jeweled tiaras. Their hair, pinned half up, highlights their resemblance. Pointed chin, straight nose, and sharp jawline.

The preteen Sybille is already a spitting image of her mother, save for her eyes. They are brown and doe shaped, holding wonder behind them.

Her mother, however, is stone faced and serious. She looks older than her years, with her gray eyes still reflecting the mourning of her long-deceased husband.

"Your Majesty," I extend in greeting to Queen Verena, lowering my head. My dance partner bows in kindness and echoes me.

Queen Verena politely smiles. "Queen Tove, a pleasure to be here."

Princess Sybille scoops up the sides of her dress, offering me a graceful curtsy. The princess's happiness turns giddy when she returns upright.

Princess Sybille's angelic voice sings, "Mother! You never told me arranged marriages bring together such beautiful couples!"

The Queen of Unterkirch's eyes widen as her mouth falls, and my dance partner and I stiffen.

"We—We aren't—"

Queen Verena steps forward. "I am so sorry, Queen Tove. You'll have to forgive my daughter." She whirls on Princess Sybille, anger rolling off her in swirls as she smacks her daughter's hand in reprimand.

The young girl bristles, holding her hand to her chest, lowering her face to the floor.

Queen Verena looks at my partner and me apologetically. "She hasn't been well since her father passed, and she sees the toll his death takes on me. Her hopeful heart wants everyone to be together and happy."

My heart is heavy for Princess Sybille, the loss of a parent is a mournful path. She is approaching her teenage years, and it plucks a somber song in my soul to know she has already faced grief.

Her brown eyes meet mine, water lining them.

Knowing the pain she is feeling, I hate she was deprived of the happiness she had mere moments ago. I extend my hand to the princess.

She takes it cautiously as I beam down. "No one will be as beautifully coupled as you and your future husband."

Her expression lifts from cheek to cheek as she grins. "You hear that, Mother! Another queen thinks I am beautiful like you!"

The queen smirks at her daughter, extending her gratitude. "A pleasure as always, Queen Tove."

"And you as well, Queen Verena." I incline my head.

Queen Verena glances at the man beside me.

Is he from a visiting kingdom? Maybe he is one of her subjects?

He remains still, not speaking a word since the princess spoke.

A devious smirk of what could be approval lines the queen's features as she retreats from us, and I can't hide the blush heating my cheeks.

The classical song ends, and when the dancing ceases, new couples take their places in the next dance.

My escort moves with a silent grace, drawing me close in our position and giving my hip a squeeze.

My pulse quickens.

We break into a lively waltz, my demeanor lifting when our chests press together, our gazes melting further into one another.

"That was kind of you to say to the princess," my dance partner remarks.

I shrug as we pivot around other guests. "Everyone deserves to be called beautiful, no matter their age."

"And what if someone were to call you beautiful?"

My heart swells at the question, possibly believing, for once, someone might see me as that.

His scar pinches from his closed smile, and I can't help the ease of a joke and flirtation when I say back, "I am sure I would react the same as you would if someone said that to you."

The man's smile reaches his eyes, and we both chuckle.

I replay the steps needed for this song as we move effortlessly into the waltz.

The more we dance, the more my body unwinds. My heart calls to the natural harmonic strings, wishing I could have had its paired score to play on the piano.

But reality crashes in, darkening the joy I once had for music, my piano now frozen over and locked away in the coldest parts of my home.

I falter a step, grateful it goes unnoticed by my dance partner, who pushes us onward.

Dance, spin, repeat, Tove. Do not step on his toes.

I repeat the mantra in my mind as the room spins, everyone fading into the background.

The three-step circle leads us into a lift, and horror crawls up my throat at anyone picking me up. A wave of dizziness arrives as I brace for my dance partner to drop me, but when the air shifts out from under me, I barely have time to take in how he did it with such ease.

He spins me, but it is his smooth voice that pulls me back in. "Will you tell me if this spinning makes you dizzy? Or will you maintain appearances until after the song is over?"

My face falls at his forthright question. "That's not something I am asked often."

"Did I need to ask you a more formal question?"

I contemplate a response but find myself surprised by the brazen question and enjoying it. "No, it is refreshing, actually."

"Talking with you is refreshing," he gushes with a wink.

Sweet Makers, this fucking man.

He lifts me again, this time drawing a startled gasp from me when my feet meet the ground.

I find myself wanting to return his boldness and learn more about him. "Since we are not being formal in our questions, how did you get that scar?"

I flick my attention to it.

He tenses, and instinctively, I wish I could take it back, realizing I struck a nerve. "I'm sorry, I—" I am cut off by him gripping my hip.

A dark thought has me wishing his smooth voice could talk me through vile thoughts.

"A story to be saved for next time," he says.

I scoff, unable to hide my disappointment. "What makes you think there will be a next time?"

A lone dimple makes an appearance, followed by a low chuckle that vibrates through my bones. The same tender touch of his thumb rubs circles over my knuckles, drawing a slight tug at an old memory.

Runa used to do that for me.

I frown, the energy between us souring.

The song concludes, and my question goes unanswered.

But I find myself not wanting our interaction to end. I try to think of something else to say to keep him near, but I lose my chance when he releases me, pulling all the warmth with him as he lowers into a bow.

I extend my thanks, frustrated over ruining an interaction with someone I actually enjoyed and felt myself with.

When his blue eyes meet mine, I realize I never got his name. Is it too foolish to ask after our dance?

"What shall I call you?" I ask hastily, needing to know.

His lip quirks up at the side as he takes my hand.

Staring me down through his brow as his lips meet my knuckles, he says, "Call me yours."

My heart somersaults at his words as I move closer, drawing air from my lungs. My feet remain planted to the ground as his coy smirk never leaves his face.

"Until tomorrow, My Queen," he purrs, releasing my hand and retreating backward.

My insides flex as my dance partner shifts through the crowds, disappearing into the shadows. I am about to chase after him, but a new presence from behind halts my efforts.

Niko comes up to my side, his displeasure making me wary. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"I was dancing," I explain, my eyes still focused on the spot where I last saw the scarred man.

He remains silent, scanning the crowd beside me as I look beyond the windows, taking in the star-filled sky.

"I think I should head to bed. It's been—" I release a long, exhausted breath. "It's been a long day."

"I'll walk you back to your room," Niko offers me his arm.

I take it as we say our good nights to the guests.

Our footsteps are silent against the marbled tile as we drift past the peaked archways that frame tall floor-to-ceiling windows. The stairs leading to the higher levels of the castle are lined with dark-red rugs, and lanterns hang every few feet.

"Tee?"

Niko's voice pulls my attention from the rug up to his face.

"Yes?" I ask as we climb the stairs, heading for the royal wings.

"Who was that man you danced with earlier?"

"I don't know. He never told me his name."

I almost miss the tension leaving his body as we inch closer to my rooms.

"Ah, playing the whole mystery man tactic?"

I snort, knowing he hit the target. "Something like that."

A grin appears as we climb up the stairs faster than I am used to, hating the height difference between the two of us. Chest tightening at the change of pace, I grip my dress as I concentrate on my steps, always struggling to keep up with Niko's long strides.

"What happened, then? Why do I feel like you are so distant?"

I hesitate in my response, unsure of the distance he is talking about. But I replay my interaction with the mystery man from earlier, remembering his soft touches and the circles that reminded me of my sister.

Just like that, another little dose of happiness vanishes to be replaced with misery.

I deflate as the brief glimpse of joy dwindles away, allowing my darkness to consume me. I glower and find myself cracking apart at the seams as we pass up the final step to my rooms at the end of the hall.

Niko pulls me to a stop, dragging me away from the blizzard I battle internally. "Tee?" Concern weighs down on his brow as I scratch the side of my fingers in distraction.

"I was thinking about Runa," I confess, avoiding his eyes.

Suddenly, I am embraced by the soothing scents of sandalwood. I melt into it, closing my eyes and placing my arms around Niko.

Deities, he is so soft.

Thoughts wander as I lean against his chest. It is as if he holds and protects me from the world. I dream of these days so often, every day, of having him so close to me like this. My lungs finally exhale when Niko's huge arms squeeze me once more.

Why can't it always be this easy?

When we break away, he forces my gaze up to him. I still when his thumb strokes the side of my jaw.

He leans in through a hushed whisper. "I don't want you to think about Runa right now."

My eyes widen as his eyes close, lips mere inches from mine. I lick mine in earnest as lust explodes in my stomach. Nerves rapid firing, I feel as if he might kiss me.

Sweet Makers, this could be my first kiss.

I've fantasized about kissing this man for years, but an ache pulses against my chest as I hesitate.

Am I reading him all wrong? Is this part of our game?

What if he is just as tired as I am and is closing his eyes because he, too, is exhausted?

Oh, Sweet Makers, what is the matter with you, Tove? Just KISS him!

I-I… I can't.

Deities, I can't believe I am a fucking coward. I inwardly groan as I guide his hand slowly, painfully, away from my face. I drop my head and close my eyes, trying to sear this memory into my brain, knowing all too well I am most likely hallucinating.

This will never happen again. A memory I will have to use in future fantasies.

I avert my eyes from his gaze, reaching for the door to my chambers.

"Tee," he starts, and I halt. "Before you leave, I need you to do something for me."

Curiosity gets the better of me. "What is it, Niko?"

His lip curves up as he grabs my hand, placing it on his chest.

I swallow the lump forming when he traces along my palm, hoping he cannot see the goose bumps he is causing.

His soft voice is swiftly replaced by a hard sternness. "Don't talk to the last man you danced with."

"Why?" I tug my hand back and fold my arms.

He straightens his posture, mimicking my stance, and peers down. Somehow, I can't tell if this is coming from Niko, my friend, or Nikolaj, my advisor.

He clears his throat. "You can have anyone. Just not him."

My brow lifts in suspicion. "Are you… Are you jealous?"

A boisterous laugh escapes him, oscillating through my skull as it skitters down the stairs.

When he catches his breath, he spits out, "Jealous? Why would I be jealous?"

Embarrassment blooms within me, and the building lust fizzles faster than it formed. I should have known better. Of course he wouldn't like me like that. He was probably feeling pity earlier.

And now?

Now he is probably trying to protect me.

"Fine!" I throw my hands up in the air in frustration, fueling my anger to shield against the rejection he dangled in front of my face.

I will not let myself be fooled by him any longer.

"Tove—"

"Good night, Nikolaj," I seethe through clenched teeth.

I rip myself away from the hall, slamming my door behind me without a second thought.

My heart hangs on for the hope he will shout and profess his feelings for me, but the angry tears running down my cheeks tell me the harsh truth I have yet to face.

He doesn't love me.

And if he doesn't love me, someone who has known me for years, then who ever would?

I rub my eyes and sniff. I should have known better. I should have known he wouldn't care beyond our friendship. And I hate that the romantic feelings have always been there for me.

Niko has a presence and support that sucks everyone in. He reels me in every time and radiates sunshine and life.

I don't deserve it after everything I've done, but the storm clouds lessen when he is around.

It is getting harder and harder to separate emotions in our conversations. I brush the dampness on my cheeks away, wipe the excess off my dress, and slink out of it, debating whether I should ring for my staff.

No, I just want to forget this entire night happened.

Exhaustion has me too lazy to remove my undergarments, a light slip to give my body a smooth appearance with the gown I wore tonight.

Frustration has me careless of my hair and my crown. I rip it away, pins and all, unflinching, and toss it on my vanity.

I barely sigh when I kick off my shoes, the soles of my feet cushioned on the fleece rug.

I trudge to my bed, pulling the sheets back, and collapse, dragging my pillow tight. My tears dampen the linen as I find myself wishing for the mystery man's company over everyone else's at this moment.