Joniss led her to the center of the dance floor. The music had already begun playing. Renna dared a glance at Trev, and, as if on cue, Joniss put his arm around her waist.
Trev was definitely paying attention.
“So tell me, why the dress? Obviously, I’m a fan, but it does seem a bit . . . unlike you.”
Renna’s words were short. “How would you know what is or isn’t like me?”
Joniss laughed. “You’re flashing attitude tonight. I like it.” He pulled her closer.
Renna rolled her eyes. The last thing she needed was another arrogant man in her life.
“Is he watching?” Joniss asked, nodding his head toward Trev.
Renna clamped her mouth shut. She wasn’t about to give anything away to the irritable man; he already seemed to know too much.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m excellent at reading people,” he boasted.
Her mouth remained shut.
“We can help each other, you know.” He tilted his head so he could see her better. “We both want the same thing—for Ezra to suffer.”
Renna kept her face expressionless. Was that what she wanted? For Trev to suffer? She had hoped he’d notice her in the dress. Hoped he’d feel a small part of the hurt that had torn through her yesterday like a tornado. But to hear it come from Joniss’s mouth like that, like they were plotting some big scheme? It all sounded so callous. The truth was, despite her broken heart, she wanted Trev to be happy. She wanted happiness for Seran and her mother too. Fighting over a love that was never meant to be hers was the most foolish thing she had ever done.
Renna stiffened when Joniss’s hand slid farther down her back—lower than any other man had dared that night. The audacity of this guy was astonishing. She reached around her back and pulled his hand up until it was at a more respectable level.
“My hand placement was strictly strategic, I assure you.” Joniss gave her an innocent smirk. “I’m only trying to help you with Ezra.”
“How considerate of you.” She gave him a warning look, but it didn’t seem to faze him. “But I don’t need any help with Prince Ezra. I’m afraid you’re not as good at reading people as you think. Nothing is going on between Prince Ezra and me.”
The song ended, and Renna stepped back.
“I’m going to need proof that I’m wrong about you two. Proof that I’m not good at reading people,” Joniss said.
“What?”
“Prove it,” he challenged.
Before Renna could say anything else, Joniss grabbed her hand and led her through the crowd toward Trev.
Trev
“Ezra! I thought it was time you danced with your soon-to-be sister-in-law,” Joniss said, pulling Renna toward the royal table where he sat with Seran, the king, and a few high rulers.
Hate was a strong word, but after tonight, Trev could definitely say he hated Joniss.
Renna shook her head in protest. “I . . . I . . . think he should dance with Seran.” Her pleading eyes looked back at Joniss.
“Yes, I agree. Ezra should dance with the princess.” His father weighed in on the matter a little too quickly.
Trev stood. “Sorry to disappoint you, Joniss, but I promised Seran we would dance again.” Trev stretched his hand out in front of Seran, willing her to take him up on it.
“I’m actually a little tired.” Seran’s expression was guarded.
Trev felt desperate. He couldn’t dance with Renna. Not tonight.
“Perfect! Renna can keep Ezra company while you rest. You don’t mind, Princess, do you?” Joniss raised one cunning eyebrow.
“Of course not. Why would I mind?” Seran flashed a calculated smile at Joniss.
Trev remembered Seran’s words. She’d said Renna was harmless, but he wasn’t sure Seran genuinely believed that. Was this a test?
“Actually, Ezra should be getting ready for the signing of the treaty.” His father stood abruptly. The desperation in his father’s voice added to Trev’s panic.
Maxwell Doman, still sitting at the table, began to laugh. “What are you going to do, Your Majesty, go fetch the pens? I’m sure Gaines has everything prepared already.”
“He’s right,” Levi Karda added. “Let the boy enjoy himself.”
“I apologize.” Renna looked to the king and the group of men around the table, pretty much anywhere but at Trev. “I’m a little thirsty. I think I’ll sit this next song out.”
“Renna, it’s just a dance.” Joniss gave her a pointed look before turning to Trev. “Unless, Ezra, you can think of some reason why you two shouldn’t dance.”
Joniss was manipulating him, and there was nothing he could do about it.
“Of course not.”
“Then dance with her.” His manipulation turned into a challenge.
Trev swallowed hard, reaching for Renna’s hand. “My lady?”
She nodded, cautiously putting her feather-like fingers on his.
They walked across the swirled marble in silence, bodies tense. The song had already begun—another slow song, of course. Trev swung her around to face him, their eyes meeting. She looked as scared as he felt. He placed his arm around her, his hand on her bare back. The feel of her skin burned into his touch. Their movements were guarded and stiff, both of them trying to keep the tension between them in check. They didn’t speak, just glided through the crowded dance floor robotically. Other couples swayed close by, not knowing the agony inside of Trev. For surely, this was agony. To have Renna in his arms, but not be able to truly hold her, feel her.
An accidental bump from a couple nearby forced him to step closer to her.
“Excuse us, Your Highness,” the man chirped before steering his partner away.
Renna’s breath caught, and she leaned in just a fraction, as if momentarily forgetting that distance between them was their only means of self-preservation. Trev briefly closed his eyes and breathed in her perfume, a light citrus scent that was now his favorite smell. Her head melted into the closeness of his cheek, allowing him to whisper in her ear, “You look beautiful tonight.”
She didn’t pull away.
He tightened his arm around her back in a more intimate way. The movement closed the gap between them even more.
She sucked in the air around her.
“I’ve wondered all night what it would feel like to dance with you, to hold you.” He could feel strands of her hair on his lips as he whispered in her ear.
“Please,” she whimpered, shying away from his touch.
“Sorry.” He remembered himself and the room full of people.
They spun around the dance floor in a choking silence until finally, Trev laughed to himself. “I’ve never wanted to hold or hug something so bad in my life. I feel actual pain in my chest as real as any gunshot wound—a tangible, physical pain.”
“Stop saying things like that.” Renna pulled away even more, the space like a cold breeze against his skin.
“I just think it’s crazy. Don’t you? To feel physical pain because I can’t hug you or touch you.” He turned his head toward hers, the tip of his nose barely touching her cheek. “Do you feel the pain too?”