Look at me!
Xander’s head snapped up from the throng of women around him, and we made eye contact. I dared not smile. I was not inviting him to dance, or to choose me, only to acknowledge my beauty. For this time I was not in a servant’s dress, nor was he drunk. Though maybe he was—I saw Prince Xander inhale and stumble as he took a step backward and bumped into the flutist.
Did I hit him with the command too hard? Now I worried what I had done. Magic was not a trivial thing to be throwing about, especially when I was angry. And Earlsgaarde seemed to have been hit with the command as well, because his head snapped up in unison with Xander’s, and he was watching me with intense eyes.
Yasmin was almost to Xander, her once smiling face turned down into a frown as she waved up at him from among the ladies, striving to stand on her tiptoes. This was one time her petite height was not working in her advantage.
When I had Xander’s full attention, I did the one thing I knew would drive him mad. I turned my back on him and began counting, a lesson I had learned from my mother: “Show a man your beauty, let him think you’re his, and then become unattainable, and they will cross heaven and earth to claim you.”
With my back to the crowd and prince, I couldn’t see anyone’s reaction. Couldn’t tell if what I had done was mad or genius. Would he call for me? Would he pursue me? My nerves were becoming frayed, thinking I had done the wrong thing and made a fool of myself. Steeling myself, I began to retreat, consciously putting one foot in front of another.
I was a fool. Dropping my eyes to the marble floor, I buried my hands in my skirt. Now he had seen me, and I was once again being rejected.
My chest burning, I raised a finger to wipe away a tear when a hand grabbed my wrist.
I looked up and was startled to see Gaven’s hopeful face, my heart dropping when I realized it wasn’t the prince. “Will you dance with me?” he asked.
“I… uh—”
“Excuse me, but this one is mine,” Xander said coldly, possessively, as he took my other arm. But Gaven didn’t let go, and the air became tense as two men were claiming me.
Eventually, Gaven released my arm, a fake smile masking his emotions as he bowed. “Certainly, Prince Xander.” He stepped back, and I felt the safety of Gaven’s presence disappear as a cold whisper of danger drew close. Nothing about Xander told me I was safe. I wanted to run. Run very far away—or right into his arms. I wasn’t sure where I wanted to be in that moment, my heart beating too frantically for me to focus on anything else.
Prince Xander stood before me, his eyes searching mine. From the glow of the chandeliers, I could see his eyes smoldering like a burning ember, and he hadn’t shaved since yesterday. He looked rugged and dangerous, his power and authority overwhelming, but there was also an underlying wildness about him.
My hesitation must’ve angered him, because he pulled my wrist and dragged me into the center of the crowd. His left hand moved around my waist, and he waited for the music to start.
“I never agreed—” I began, but the music started and he took two steps. I followed, unsure if I knew the steps to the song, but I quickly realized it was very similar to the Dredilly dance and I could indeed keep up.
“You do not need to. I am your prince,” he stated, as if that were the only answer he needed.
“Not my prince,” I mumbled angrily.
He turned to search my eyes, and I glared back. My jaw clenched in irritation at his demeanor, I looked over his shoulder at the spinning faces. That was something else I was greatly aware of—my height put me at only a few inches shorter than him, and I fit perfectly within his arms. Neither one of us had to go on tiptoe or lean down to dance.
As we spun, I kept catching glimpses of Earlsgaarde staring at me intently. I wondered if he had received a backlash of my compulsion, for he wouldn’t look away.
“You clean up nicely. In fact, I dare say you are quite pretty when not frolicking in the garden,” Xander murmured, then leaned down to lift me into the air for the jump the dance required. My feet left the earth and my breath caught in my throat, but I hid my joy from him.
“And you’re vain,” I added.
Prince Xander didn’t seem used to my insolence. My feet touched the ground roughly as he dropped me, frowning as he spun me away from him. When the spin returned, he pulled me to his chest and growled, “I am your future king. Why do you loathe me?”
“That’s not true. I barely know you. How can I possibly loathe someone I don’t know?” I countered angrily, still on edge from my conversation with Lord Verner.
“What tales are you spinning, woman? Why are you being so trying?” His voice rose in pitch, and I decided to leave it be. It wouldn’t do to cross swords or tongues with someone not prepared for battle. Was it fair? No. But venting my anger on him when he didn’t understand the reason would do little to end my pain.
When no more biting words came forth, he relaxed and we danced. It was beginning to become quite pleasant, and I was equally aware of every touch as his hand adjusted on my waist. The music faded to the background as the heat of his hand felt like it was burning right through to my skin. When he brushed a stray strand of hair out of my face, I flinched at the contact.
“I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier,” he said as he studied my profile.
I stared at the crowd around us, not wanting to make eye contact. Every second I was in his embrace was unnerving and brought us closer to the truth of who I really was, and I wasn’t prepared for his reaction.
He shook his head. “I usually have more control over my temper. Thank you for helping my sister.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And serving my, uh… wife. Has it been taxing?”
“I believe I told you before, I am not a servant. Nor am I a lady,” I said, finally meeting his gaze.
“Then what, pray tell, are you, if not a lady nor a servant?”
I smiled in challenge. “An illusion. For I will vanish before your eyes, and even though I’m close to you, you’ll never see me. Never know me.”
“I could if you let me.” His voice lowered and his eyes flickered to my lips. I knew exactly what he was insinuating. “In fact, I would like to know you a little better.”
He had complete disregard for his marriage vows, and it infuriated me all the more.
“What of your wife?” I asked coldly.
“What of her?” he responded irritably. “I’m married in name only. There will never be love lost between us.”
“Everyone deserves a chance at love,” I remarked. “Especially your future princess.”
“Yasmin?” He glanced up and around as if searching for his ex-fiancée.
Missing the beat on purpose, I stepped on his toe. “No, your wife, Princess Rosalie.”
“I… is that her name?” He paused and his face went still, his expression unreadable.
I was aghast that he didn’t even know her—my name. Was it as rushed and confusing for him as me? It must have been.
“Yes,” I said softly, looking down at my feet.
He became quiet, then shot any further discussion down, saying, “Never mind. These are private matters.”
The song came to an end and I pulled away, more than ready to disappear into the crowd. He gripped my wrist and led me to the side of the room. Ladies had surged forward to try and claim the next dance, and his guards were forced to come up and encircle him, forming a ring of protection.