“It’s safe enough,” he said with an elegant shrug. “Most of the drinks are bespelled, but this one merely shows you the face of the person you love most before your first sip.”
My eyebrows rose, and I fought the immediate instinct to look down. I didn’t have to be a Nightmare to know I was afraid of what would be looking back. “Whose face do you see?” I asked.
Laurie winked. “Why, my own, of course.”
I rolled my eyes, but something else caught Laurie’s notice. He turned before I could keep using conversation with him as a stall tactic. I stood there and tried not to fidget. I glanced around and caught at least four courtiers staring at me before they had a chance to avert their gazes. I barely noticed; most of my concentration was on the bespelled cocktail in my hand. After a few seconds, the curiosity became stronger than the dread. Steeling myself, I held my cup closer and looked down.
Damon’s face shimmered on the surface, and something in my chest loosened. Of course it would be him. My little brother. My oldest friend. He was the only one who understood the pain of what we’d lost and what we were. He’d given up everything to follow me when I went in search of happiness all those years ago. And despite the terrible things that had happened since then, I knew he would make the same choice if he were given a chance to redo it.
We made a promise, remember?
Letting out a breath, I lifted my head and refocused on the crowd. Queen Mab had arrived while I’d been distracted, and she was in the center of the room now, dancing with a male I didn’t recognize. Her appearance was more understated than I would’ve expected from such a fierce legend—she wore a dress with green embroidery, puff shoulders, and a stiff-looking overskirt. The string quartet played louder now, and the music was almost loud enough to drown out my thoughts. Almost. I felt Laurie’s eyes on me, but I didn’t look at him. I felt so raw, so homesick that it seemed like I would shatter if I acknowledged it.
He took my glass—now empty—and handed it to another server walking past, along with his own. I looked around, wondering what had happened to his mask. Then Laurie turned back to me, bent into a slight bow, and held out his hand. For a tilting, disorienting moment, I saw a different face peering down. One with hazel eyes, a jagged scar, and tousled brown hair. Dance with me, Fortuna.
I quickly put my hand in Laurie’s, more in defiance than an actual desire to dance. A faint smile curved his lips, as if Laurie knew exactly what I was thinking. Like he always seemed to know, damn him.
Before I could say anything, Laurie led me onto the dance floor.
Queen Mab had retreated now, and she spoke with a courtier near the throne, her expression polite as she nodded. She was being very careful not to acknowledge me, I thought. Laurie’s palm rested on the small of my back, bringing my attention back to him. I was still holding the stem of the mask in my other hand, but Laurie only wrapped our fingers around it. He stepped even closer and I felt his thighs graze against mine. Suddenly my mouth felt too dry, but I resisted the urge to swallow, knowing Laurie would be able to hear it. I also fought the instinct to watch my feet. I lifted my chin and met Laurie’s eyes as if he’d challenged me. His smile only deepened as he pulled me into the steps.
It didn’t surprise me that Laurelis Dondarte waltzed as well as he dressed. Though I wasn’t nearly as skilled as any of the dancers around us, my partner was an excellent guide. In his arms, I didn’t hesitate or stumble. I gazed up at him, unnerved that he wasn’t making any remarks or jokes.
“I never thanked you,” I said suddenly, stumbling. Laurie righted me without missing a beat. “Not… not just for helping me while we’ve been here. Thank you for what you did at Hallerbos.”
For once, he didn’t pretend or act coy. Laurie looked down at me and a lock of bright hair fell over one eye. “I never thanked you, either,” he murmured.
I tilted my head. “Which part are you grateful for? How meeting me led to the loss of your throne?”
His hand tightened around mine. “How meeting you reminded me that there’s more to live for than revenge or power.”
Anxiety and confusion beat at my heart like the tips of flapping wings. There was so much I wanted to say, so much I longed to ask.
Instead, I leaned forward and rested my cheek on Laurie’s chest.
If I’d startled him, he didn’t show it. Laurie slowed our dance, and adjusted his hold on me so our arms weren’t set at awkward angles. I could hear his heartbeat, strong and steady. One of the feathers on my mask tickled the bottom of my chin, but I ignored it. Somehow, in the midst of these lovely, vicious faeries and surrounded by glittering danger, my mind went quiet. It felt like we were standing in the snow again. Just like that day, I could feel Laurie’s warmth, even through layers of clothing. He smelled like spring breezes and crisp soap, a combination that shouldn’t have worked, but it did.
The musicians hit the final note of the song, and it echoed through the room like a wistful chorus of sighs. Couples pulled away from each other, clapping politely. But I wasn’t ready for this moment to end. I didn’t think Laurie was, either—he held onto me a beat too long before he stepped away and faced the whispering crowd. I saw some gazes drop to our hands, which were still clasped tight.
I waited for Laurie to let me go. There was a gleam in his eyes as he bent and kissed the back of my hand. Despite the dozens of eyes on us, my body reacted to the sensual way he dragged his mouth across my skin. Then Laurie straightened, and we moved through the throng of courtiers again. We left the dance floor, going to the right this time, closer to the doorway where Sorcha hid. Once we were away from the audience, I saw his expression shift, losing the roguish look I’d become so familiar with. As if Laurie were an actor leaving the stage.
Because that’s what it had been, I realized as I watched him. A performance. A statement.
A drop of doubt slid through my veins. A drop of poison. Was Laurie always putting on some kind of show? How much of what I’d seen—what I thought he’d allowed me to see—was real? Collith had shown me how skilled faeries were at the long con. Maybe Laurie just had a different endgame.
Stop it, Fortuna. He sacrificed his throne for you.
I banished every thought from my head and hurried after him, my heels making it impossible to be subtle. Most of the faeries in our path shifted politely, giving us room to pass. But one didn’t; I wasn’t surprised to see Lord Arthion step forward, forcing us to acknowledge him. He pulled Simone partly in front of his body like she was a trophy or an accessory.
“Lord Arthion,” Laurie said as I drew up alongside him. Looking at his amiable expression, no one would ever know how he felt about the faerie male who had turned his attention to me. Sometimes I forgot how good Laurie was at pretending.
Another whisper of misgiving went through me at the thought.
“Curious choice of companion, my lady,” the courtier said to me, his eyes dropping to the hand I’d rested on Laurie’s arm. “One might think such a powerful figure would seek to align herself with more… advantageous connections at the Seelie Court.”
“One might think that,” I agreed. “One might also get stabbed in his sleep.”
The faerie’s head snapped back, as if I’d slapped him. His teeth bared in a faint, instinctive snarl. “I beg your pardon?” he said.