Page 165 of Burn Her They Said
Emperor Aldritch emits a rough cough before righting himself toward the royal family. My heart stalls when he turns his head and catches me watching, then his thin lips curl into a wry smile as he weaves through the crowd with his Guards following, only coming to a stop once he reaches me. I freeze in place when his clammy hand curls around my bicep and hold my breath to try to avoid his sulphur and wine scent.
“The Prince seems to have taken an interest in you. Pursue it.” His gaze remains fixed on the royal in question.
I try to will some moisture to wet my mouth so I might respond without choking when a row of servers flows into the ballroom, carrying trays of sparkling wine. Anya arrives immediately after and lowers into a curtsy before testing the glass I am offered. His Majesty nods his approval once she remains alive for whatever interval of time he thinks means I’m safe.
The glass is chilled when it meets my lips, and I guzzle the wine faster than usual before asking His Majesty, “What would you have me do to pursue his interest?”
“Encourage it, and don’t fuck up.” He strides away, and I bend in a bow to his receding form.
“How would he benefit from you ‘entertaining’ the Prince?” Varic whispers.
“Speculating on the purpose of his schemes is pointless,” I say, just as quietly. “If safety is your concern, then I will need your support in carrying out this command.”
Varic’s gaze traces the lacy pink flush on my chest before the corner of his mouth ticks up. Then he sends me threads of pride and amusement the longer he stares at my unnatural reaction.
“I must admit, it is a small comfort to see I can still affect you like this.” Varic gestures to my reddened skin.
My eyes narrow. “Were you truly curious as to his purpose and the harm it may cause me? Because otherwise it seems you merely disapprove of the ‘encouragement’ I am to give the Prince.”
His chest expands with a mix of frustration and embarrassment building inside of him. Then we each grow silent when the Prince’s hazel eyes seek and find mine, smiling in earnest as he stalks confidently in my direction.
Anxiety rushes in like an undertow beneath my skin while the prickle of thousands of tiny needles stabs my abdomen. The effect of not knowing how to interact with someone of his station, since my skills of influence are all magical in nature. A lifetime of standing off to the side as the Emperor’s guests ignore or avoid me will not aid me in this venture. Not when encouraging the attention of one so practiced would require years of forming charming words, and at least a modicum of understanding as to how to behave in polite conversation.
My brow quirks when the Prince bows to me. “Good evening.”
“Good evening.” I curtsy, as required.
He waves a hand dismissively as he leans in. “Just Auden to you.”
My expression must betray my bewilderment as a look of amusement lifts his own. “Won’t I be expected to address you by your proper title?”
He closes the distance, and a low, predatory growl rumbles from Varic.
“I do not intend for anyone to be near enough that they might hear how you address me.” The Prince’s tone is low and sultry.
I stare up at him in confusion as his pupils seem to be dilated, with the hazel ring around each thinner than when I first saw him enter the ballroom, though not as wide as someone dosed with luss essence, which would otherwise explain why he is being so forward.
A guest who seems to have imbibed a bit more heavily extends a hand to the Prince, who winks at me before attending to the sorcerer.
Varic sighs heavily, and I force my gaze to remain near the Prince.
“I do not like this assignment any more than you do,” I whisper.
“You could have fooled me. I saw the way you looked at him.”
My jaw drops before I retort, “It’s called acting, Varic.”
“Then I must commend you. You are quite the actor. Very convincing.”
I part my lips to add another quip, then hurriedly shut them when Prince Auden turns back.
“May I have this dance?” He offers his hand, and I turn to where no band exists, nor does anyone seem to be forming along the edges of the room so dancing might take place at the center.
Then my chest constricts with my magic siphoning Varic’s emotions. My eyes dart over to him, and my breath hitches at the amber sparks emitting from his fingertips. The brightness of each disappears beneath the black fabric over his hips, and my stomach drops with his need to scar himself.
Tears well along my lashes as I observe the Prince interacting with other guests who have thankfully interrupted us, feeling as if my heart might burst as I abandon Varic when he’s hurting like this.
Though I could be wrong—except Malin catches my eye with concern swirling in his own. I tilt my head toward Varic to ask Malin if he can intervene, but he shakes his head somberly, breaking my heart with how obvious it is that he wishes to claim the opposite.
