36. THIRTY SIX

thirty-six

GOOD MANNERS AND SUBTLETIES

An awkward silence settles around us as Darian sits in the seat next to me. After a few seconds, everyone makes a concerted effort to continue conversations until our meals are presented. Darian’s shoulder brushes mine, and I try to edge away from the contact.

“So, Darian…” Celeste begins, picking at the food on her plate with a fork. “Have you been wine-ing and dining any women lately?”

Darian leans back and rests his arm on the back of my chair, allowing his knees to fall open. One of them knocks into my own, and I pull my knee away as I take a sip of my wine.

Darian smirks, eyes trained on Celeste. “I’m more of a sucking and fucking kind of guy.”

I sputter, choking on the wine in my mouth. My face heats red, from both the embarrassment and the strain in my throat from coughing.

Cole glares at Darian. “I’m sorry, you do realize you just said that out loud?”

“Darian!” Celeste scolds.

Cole steals a concerned look at me as I attempt to pull a solid breath into my lungs. Darian has the audacity to look amused at the stir he caused.

Darian leans over to me, softly patting my back with a wicked grin as he whispers, “I’m sorry, are you choking?”

It prompts the memory of his hand wrapped around my neck when he nearly caught Daeja all those nights ago. How quickly his grip on my throat changed from choking to touching. Caressing. Teasing. Fingering. His naked body pressed against mine, his skin melting into me. Every wicked ounce of pleasure he tore from my body, ever so easily.

I suck in a breath and drive my heel into Darian’s foot. A grunt escapes his lips, and he retreats back into his own personal space. Pushing up to my feet, I excuse myself, and leave the grand dining room. My heels click against the marble as I scurry down a hallway. The pianist’s melody resumes to a slower, softer tune. I pause, leaning against a wall and coughing, still trying to settle the strain in my throat. Rubbing circles against my temple with a hand, I squeeze my eyes shut to force out the flashing memories of my night with Darian.

Footsteps sound behind me, pulling me out of my wavering focus. Glancing over my shoulder, I’m not surprised Darian’s strutting my way. I spin toward him, my dress floating and sweeping the ground as I turn. He pauses a few steps away from me and leans one shoulder against the wall. As if we both casually decided to meet out here, away from wandering eyes and perked ears.

I smack him on the chest with the back of my hand. “Knock it off.”

He has the audacity to look surprised. “Knock what off?”

“Stop looking at me like that! Or they’re going to know.”

He lowers his gaze, his eyes darkening.

“Yes, like that! Knock it off!” I hiss.

“What are they going to know?”

I glare at him. “That we slept together, you buffoon.”

His eyebrows shoot up, mocking me. “What?”

I grab a fistful of his shirt, pulling him down to me. I clap my hand over his mouth, shushing him. “If you don’t keep it down, I’m going to—”

He smiles against my hand, his words muffled by my skin. “You’re going to what ?” At my pause, he prompts me again with a whisper. “Or you’re going to do what, kitten? Divulge me, preferably in great detail. Maybe start where we left off last with you screaming on your hands and knees, trembling as I—“

I push him away from me. “You’re such a dick.”

That gorgeous glint of his wicked smile slices into his cheeks as he snickers. “Is that why you like to put your hands on me?”

What did Cole tell me before? Drunks, terrorists, toddlers, and he’s all three? Especially landing in that damn second category right now. I push past Darian and walk back to the dining room.

Cole jumps to his feet upon my arrival, his chair screeching against the floor. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I reply curtly, taking a seat. As I shift into my chair, someone clears their throat. My gaze sweeps over to the sound, and Archie walks in with a swagger to his step, holding a plate stacked full with… oh.

Oh, no.

My cheeks flush in second-hand embarrassment as I watch it unfold before me. Archie slides into the seat next to Melaina, casually leans back, and grabs one of the many black shells stacked onto his plate. Snapping open the shell, he pops a piece of meaty flesh into his mouth.

Melaina begins, “Are…those…”

Archie glances at her sideways with a nonchalant grin. “Mussels? Oh, yeah, a lot of them. We used to eat them in Helmbrook all the time.”

Melaina quirks an eyebrow up in bewilderment. My face falls into my hand as I recall the conversation Celeste and Melaina had earlier, before Archie excused himself.

Celeste meant Melaina was a sucker for muscles, not mussels, Archie.

“Want one?” Archie offers Melaina.

She shakes her head.

A strained chuckle comes from Celeste as she catches onto the clear misinterpretation. “How did you get all of those?”

Archie tilts his chin up. “I made a special request with the cooks.”

The music swells, and Cole jolts to his feet again, his amber gaze darting to me. He holds out an open hand across the table, eyes begging me. “Kat, would you dance with me?”

“We were going to do dances after dessert, but I suppose this time is as good as any. You two go!” Celeste encourages us with a brush of her wrist toward the dance floor. “I’ll join you later.”

My palms itch with a nervous sweat. I can’t seem to figure out a way to decline him without making things even more awkward. I swallow hard before taking his hand and rising. Our hands break apart, and I meet him at the end of the table, my body rigid with the many sets of eyes now watching us.

“What the hell are you doing?” I hiss once we are out of earshot.

He leads me out to the dance floor, bowing before me and offering his hand to me. He mutters under his breath, “Dancing.”

I rest my hand in his, before he wraps his fingers around mine. He pulls me into him and swings the both of us off into a dance. I haven’t afforded myself much time to admire him. But this close and with nowhere else to look…

He’s devastatingly handsome. The breath-caught-in-your throat kind of beautiful. My heart swoons and crumples all in one swift beat. While a darkness still seeps from his eye sockets, his red locks are swept elegantly back away from his face, accentuating the curves of his cheeks and sharp nose. His beard is neatly trimmed to fit every angle of his strong jaw. Forest green fabric flatters every ridge and valley of his body. It fits him so perfectly; as a man of his brawn and height, it has to be custom tailored. Considering he’s engaged to such a wealthy aristocrat—the daughter of the King’s previous military general—it doesn’t surprise me. Perhaps when they marry, this is how he will always look. Prestigious, dressed in the finest fabrics and living in the most ornate estate. It was more than I could have ever offered him, and it hits me as hard as if I were slapped. My heart aches at the hopelessness of any reconciliation or future with him.

He spins me into him, my back pressed against his chest, and his arms wrapped around me as he sways us. His whisper brushes my ear, “This was the only way I could think of to get some alone time with you, without intruding on your personal space.”

“Oh, and this isn’t personal space?”

He twirls me out of his grasp, finishing the spin to position me face to face with him. His hand falls to my waist, the other clasping my gloved hand gently. The curve of his hand meets mine, so perfectly as if we were etched from the same block. Where I dip, he bends into me.

He peers down at me through a pained expression, his lashes dark against the warm glow of his eyes. His lips are tight, a tension in the set of his jaw. And yet, the way he sways me around the floor is done in such loose elegance, with such confidence and expertise, I’m wondering when he’s had the chance to practice. This wasn’t our first time dancing together. It’s a skill that catches me by surprise with each sway and step.

“I know I wronged you. I let my fear of losing you again overpower what was right, and for that I am so, so sorry, Kat. I never wanted to hurt you, I just wanted to find a solution before I told you. I thought as soon as I told you I’m engaged, you’d turn tail and run. You’d either die on the journey to the Dragon Lands, or you’d stay there. And I’d never see you again. I’d lose you all over again, for a third time. But you deserve the truth, no matter what it costs me. Even if it broke my heart. You left before you gave me the chance to explain—”

“Maybe I don’t need an explanation,” I snap. “You’re engaged. And we slept together. That’s it. There’s no further explanation needed.”

He bites into his lip, trying to conceal his misery as he shakes his head. “But it’s not that simple.”

Maybe I wanted it to be. Simple means it won’t hurt. There won’t be these dizzying questions of where my heart lies, this mind-numbing pain I’m struggling to keep at bay, or my self-doubt fogging over every thought. I allow my gaze to wander over to the table, and I am instantly snared in Darian’s gaze. He lifts his flask to me with a wink and takes a swig.

I clear my throat, turning my attention back to Cole. “It is that simple. Celeste is absolutely smitten over you. I had to spend the entire damn day with her pretending I was your sister. Pretending I didn’t want to be the one you’re engaged to.”

Cole breathes, “You were supposed to be…”

I’m starting to get angry at how pitifully sad he looks. I don’t have it in me to carry his misery alongside my own agony. The pain he caused me. Doesn’t he realize this hurts me, too? I mask the sadness dwelling within me with anger. It’s just easier this way.

I break our eye contact and settle my gaze on anything but Cole. “Well, I’m not. And that’s something neither of us can change. I’ll take Daeja north in the next few days on my own, and I’ll be one less thing for you to worry about. You can live out the rest of your life married into a wealthy family. Your father and sisters will never have to worry about finances. You can climb the ranks of the military until you’re a general yourself.”

He blinks tears away, his hand at my waist gripping me tighter. “Please don’t. Can’t you see this is killing me? Don’t go where I can’t follow you, just give me some time to figure a way out of—”

A shadow falls across Cole’s face, and someone taps my shoulder. Cole lifts his chin and glares. With that reaction, I already know who it is.

“Mind if I cut in?” Darian’s voice is that delicious whisper of velvet.

“We do mind. We’re in the middle of something,” Cole growls.

“Actually, I don’t mind,” I blurt, weighing that in this moment, I’d prefer Darian’s agitating flirtations over Cole’s frustrating excuses.

Cole’s shoulders sag. If anything, I can always count on him to respect my wishes, even if he doesn’t agree with them. He steps back from me and gives my hand to Darian. When he walks back to the table, I catch a shimmer of defeat and longing in his amber eyes, before he masks it with indifference as he turns to Celeste.

Darian pulls me taut against him, my breath escaping my lips in an audible whoosh , and ripping my attention back to him.

I tilt my chin up. “Are you going to behave yourself?”

He smiles and begins to twirl us into the melody of the night. “Never.”

His hand clasps mine with such tenderness. It’s odd to pair such a soft description with him. For a moment, he looks elegant in the way his hair floats with each sway of his steps, leading me across the floor with a detached grace.

“Who knew you’d be a better dance partner than sparring partner?” he murmurs.

“Wow, Darian. Is that a hint of a compliment? You could use some work but…”

He snickers. “Don’t go expecting them of me.”

“I’ve learned to not have any expectations of you.”

“Good. People are disappointing. I’m glad to see you’re finally learning.”

A delicate gold trims the midnight blue of his coat with more gold accenting the rest of his attire. Celeste was very strategic in what I wore tonight, considering how coordinated our garments are. Perhaps she even manipulated me into this dress by having me try on such egregious options first.

Where Cole is tightly pressed and formal, Darian is the opposite. The sleeves of his coat are rolled part way up his forearms, exposing scarred olive skin. His collar is wide open, plunging low to reveal his collarbone and the dip between his chest muscles. I’m willing to bet he did it on purpose.

I arch an eyebrow. “Did one of your buttons break? How embarrassing.”

“I thought you might like it.” He winks.

“How considerate, you’re thinking of what I like now?”

“I think about you a lot more than you’d probably like to know,” he purrs.

Gods, and paired with that lethal smile of his. Part of me wants to smack it off him, so the other part of me isn’t so tempted to kiss him right here. Right now.

What is wrong with me? When and how have I lost this much self-control?

I roll my eyes hard enough I might give myself a headache if I do it again. “Why are we dancing?”

The reflections in his eyes swirl like stars in a night sky. The glimmer from the chandeliers flash around us as we spin again and again.

“Because it pisses big red off,” he says with a grin. “That, and I wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to dance with the most brilliant woman here. Although, her choice of dress is questionable.”

I snort. “And what’s wrong with my dress?”

“Well…” He drops to a hushed whisper, “I’m hoping if I tell you I don’t like it, you’ll take it off.”

I grit my teeth to block a shiver from passing through my spine. If I push him away hard enough, maybe he’ll stop tempting every damn fantasy I have of him that keeps flashing in my mind.

“Fuck you,” I say in exasperation and look away.

He pulls me closer into him as the music eases and dips me achingly slow. My neck stretches down and opens for him as my head tips back to stare at the ceiling. Vulnerable. If he so much as kissed me, it’d be over. It’d destroy every last bit of my self-control, if he only dared. His breath heats my neck.

“I hope you always keep your word,” he whispers huskily.

Before I can react, he draws me back up to stand. My head swims in dizzying circles, and I dash off the dance floor before my desires get the best of me.

Cole watches me stride across the room from where he stands with Celeste. He gets sidetracked when she laces her fingers into his. With her other hand, she cups his jaw and draws his face to hers.

The softness of her touch, the implied intimacy of it, underlines the reality of our situation—she’s free to be herself and doesn’t have to hide her affections. The way she looks at him is the same way I want to look at him.

But he turns out of her grasp and instead focuses on me.

I could burst into flames or tears, but instead, I beeline straight for the cart lined with bottles of liquor.

“You’re upset, I can feel it—”

“I’m fine.” The words waver in my mind as much as they might have if they were spoken from my lips.

“I’m happy to dispose of anyone who’s making you feel this way. Just saying.”

“We have rules, remember?”

“Rules can be bent.”

I pause at the bar-cart, bracing my weight against the lip of the counter. I stare at the bottles and snatch the closest one. Pulling a spare glass stored on a bottom shelf, I uncork the bottle and pour a knuckle’s worth of liquor into the glass. With a shaky breath, I throw the drink back and swallow.

But the burn isn’t enough to drown out the pain roaring inside me. When I tip the bottle up for more into my glass, only a drip escapes. With a frustrated grunt, I grab another bottle. Empty. Another one. Also empty. I shuffle through all of the shelves but find nothing.

I spin, surveying the grand room for a server to request something strong. But my gaze catches on one thing. Darian’s flask has somehow been left unattended at the dinner table. His attire tonight didn’t sport a way to clip it into his belt as his outfits at the camp do. Upon further observation, Darian is nowhere to be seen. I race for the flask, swipe it from the table, and cut out of the dining room. Uncorking the flask, I tip the cold metal to my lips and take a small sip, the liquor like a liquid fire sliding down my throat. I round the corner into the hallway I walked earlier tonight, and nearly collide with Darian.

He catches me by the shoulders before I can fall. Taking a step back from me, his gaze darts to the flask in my hands. His flask. His green eyes flick up to me. “What are you doing with that?”

“Trying to drown my sorrows,” I blurt. “Bar-cart was out of liquor. I’m sure you won’t mind sharing.”

There’s no amusement, malice, or coldness in his eyes. Just a blankness. “That’s not a good way to drown your sorrows.”

“Oh? And how would you know?”

“I know,” he mumbles.

I snort and roll my eyes as I pull the flask to my lips again.

“Don’t, Katerina,” he warns.

It’s the first time I’ve ever heard him use my name. A sound so foreign on his tongue, it makes me pause. It almost reminds me of my mother, only using my full name in instances where I did something needing scolding.

The little liquor I consumed before I ran into him already dulls the jagged pain piercing me with every breath, like broken glass lining my chest. With each passing second, it becomes a little easier to breathe. A little easier to exist. Eager for more, I flip the flask back and guzzle down more.

“For once, woman, would you fucking listen to me?” Darian snarls and lunges, seizing my wrist in one hand and tearing the flask from my grasp.

“Gods, you picked the wrong time to be so noble,” I hiss. “And don’t you dare say ‘I know.’ ” I try to imitate the pitch of his voice. I stalk off before he can respond, finding the only way away from Darian is back into the dining room. As I consider running up the steps to return to my room, Archie waves me over from the dinner table. When I approach and slide into the seat next to him, he holds one fork in each hand.

I blink. “Archie, what are you doing?”

He stabs with one fork and eats off the other, rinse and repeat. “Eating. Want some?”

“No thanks. Why are you eating with two forks?”

He stops mid-chew. “Are…you not supposed to use both?”

I laugh, maybe a little too hard and a little too loud. The scene of it all is hilarious. Not to mention, my poise is melting away each second longer the liquor settles into my blood. “No, silly. They have one for different parts of the meal.”

We both laugh again in unison—his is a little embarrassed. I’ve got to admit, his assumption was logical. Those of us who didn’t grow up in wealthy communities wouldn’t have a clue. The only reason I know is because I watched how Celeste ate at dinner and mirrored her movements.

“What happened to all the mussels?” I ask.

“Well I uhh…I shared them with the rest of the table. Couldn’t eat them all myself. Mussels...sort of make me sick.”

“Why did you get all of them, then?”

His gaze travels over to the dance floor where Melaina is spun by Darian. They are locked in an intense stare, lips moving in inaudible words. I wonder if he unapologetically teases her the way he does me.

“Ahh,” I whisper and glance back at a blushing Archie. “Why don’t you go talk to her?”

“Ha! She would never be interested in me.”

“You don’t know that. You have to try! Tell her how you really feel.”

He grimaces and shakes his head furiously.

“Okay, fine. You don’t have to immediately tell her how you feel…but start small. Maybe try to ask her to dance?” My lips slow as if they have a mind of their own. Each blink blurs my vision at the edge. “The worsttt she can say is noo.”

Am I slurring? And here I am giving relationship advice to someone else. Me, of all people. It’s laughable.

Bile rises in my throat, and I hurry to my feet. “I gotta go, Arch. Excuse me.”

I slink off, trying to walk a straight line and not trip over my own feet as I ascend the staircase out of the great dining hall. Each step of the way I’m trying to convince myself I’m fine. But I can’t deny the overpowering dizziness washing over me. The blinding light of the ballroom’s chandeliers fades away to the dark stretching hallway lit by flickering candelabras. My staggered steps throw me sideways into a wall, and I lean against it as if my legs will give out at any given moment. I shove off the wall and take a few more steps, commanding myself to make it back to my room before I collapse.

The hallway sways back and forth, churning my stomach. Clapping my hand over my mouth, I bite my tongue to distract myself from the heat traveling up my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut for a split-second, trying not to vomit. The effort of it all causes me to swing too far right, and I tumble into a hall table. Disoriented, I attempt to grab onto something to help me up, but instead scatter candles and picture frames on the table in my wake.

Finally, I find my footing and rise to my feet. I reposition the candles and picture frames, knocking over more as I do so. Luckily, nothing is broken from what I can tell. Bracing my hand against the wall for extra support, I walk farther away from the music. The endless hallways twist and turn, and I find myself lost.

My eyes keep dragging closed, prompting me to rest.

One of the rooms I pass by has a comfortable looking settee. The dark room is illuminated only by the moonlight spilling in through tall windows. Breathy, I stumble over to the settee and collapse. My feet pulse from the heels I’ve been wearing all night. I peel the shoes off and start rubbing at the balls of my feet, glancing around the room. My vision swims and twirls with each movement of my head. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to finally focus. A gasp escapes my lips, a shiver racing down my neck. A large skull encased in glass sits on the high tops of bookshelves lining the walls. And not just any skull.

A dragon skull.

Around the room is more contraband: horns, claws, a giant scale, an egg. Despite my body groaning in protest, I pull myself off the settee and stumble past the bookshelves to a desk. If Jurrock were to have any sort of map, it has to be here. I just know it.

I brace my weight onto the desk, my breath sawing in and out of my chest at the amount of effort it took to get here. My head hangs down, my vision swimming circles. I fight through my daze, pulling open drawers and skimming its contents with shaky fingers.

Someone clears their throat from the door.

I snap my attention up to the sound. Standing in the door frame, his silhouette black against the glow of the candle-lit hallway, is Darian.

“You’re not supposed to be in here.”