Page 97 of A Dance of Lies

“I don’t form opinions on the Crowns,” he snaps. “It isn’t my place, nor is it yours. Now, can I rely on you for the rest of the Gathering? If not, tell me now, so I can send you far,faraway.”

“I’d really prefer that you didn’t,” says a voice, deep and cool. Authoritative.

Copelan tenses.

Anton, surrounded by courtiers, pauses in the walkway next to us. “Is there a problem here, Master Reveler?” he asks. I wonder how much he heard.

“No, Your Majesty,” Copelan responds, barely keeping the strain from his voice. “We were working out arrangements for the next few days.”

“Master Reveler,” Anton says, slanting a glance toward him, “if you please, I would like a moment alone with Miss Moran. And I urge you to withhold your accusations,” he adds. “She has done nothing wrong; I merely seek to ask a favor, which she can relay toyou as she wishes. It is nothing you need to concern yourself with otherwise.”

It takes Copelan a moment to register that he’s been dismissed. He nods tightly, utters a quick, “Yes, Your Majesty,” then trudges down the hall.

I watch him disappear, wondering if he’ll scold me for this later. The thought alone sends a spike of panic through my heart.

Anton puts his hand on the small of my back, nudging me toward the balustrade, until we’re looking out over the ocean, a jut of rocks piling along the side of the palace beneath us. “Breathe, Vasalie,” he says.

I wet my lips. “A favor, Sire?”

He folds his arms together, sunlight catching on his golden cuffs and the sun-warmed tones of his skin. “I merely thought to break up whateverthatwas.”

That—referring to Copelan and me.

I run my finger along the strand of bougainvillea lassoing the baluster, then press my palms flat, a swirl of dizziness spiraling my thoughts. “It was nothing, truly.”

“Oh, certainly.” He leans against the rail, elbows propped, his dark hair tousled by the wind. “That couldn’t have been aboutI witnessed. Your brand of foreplay, then?”

“I—” Anger blazes across my cheeks. “You are foul to imply such a thing!”

“I am wonderful. A joy. A gift to mankind.” He slides me a devilish grin. “But I find myself unable to resist getting a rise out of you.”

“Let me get this straight,” I say, folding my arms. “You play a hero, swoop in to save me from the terrible, awful Copelan, and then proceed to badger me yourself?”

“Yes, but you enjoy my badgering. I am heaps more pleasant.”

“What isthatsupposed to mean?”

“Just that your Master of Revels is broodier than a souls-damned thundercloud. And Illian is an absolute brute. Try spending time with someone who makes you feel good for a change.”

“And you’re suggesting that’s you?”

He pushes off the railing, straightens a button on his lapel. “I have many talents and appeals, Vasalie, should you care to find out.”

Words desert me at that. And before I can find them, he affords me a last smile, bowing his head. “A pleasure, as always.”

Then he’s gone.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Copelan waits for me in the Dome Hall, his face flushed.

He stalks to me, no doubt intent on demanding that I ex plain what just happened. But before he can speak, a frenzy of figures barge into the Dome Hall, shouts erupting.

Copelan and I whirl in tandem.

I barely have time to react before King Estienne of Central Miridran strides through, along with a multitude of guards, a variety of courtiers—

And a screaming, thrashing Annais.