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I had no intention of dancing tonight. Even when I throw these types of events for any reason, I stay on my throne, watching the festivities unfold. But I could not physically stand still for a second longer, knowing someone else was touching her.
Spotting me, she sidesteps, spinning to ensure Tirriel does not see my approach, pretending herself like she doesn't notice. Her eyes beam up at him, a small smile gracing her face as she listens to whatever lines he's feeding her. When she can no longer ignore me, she raises a single brow in question, and Tirriel takes notice.
He turns to look, his face and hands dropping the second he sees me. Satisfaction fills me as Elva's expression turns to one of disgust at him. His fear of me, while wholly justified since I was just considering cutting off his favorite appendage and feeding it to him, shows Elva just how wrong he is for her.
Whether she'll admit it or not, she wants someone whose fearlessness matches her own, and that's just not this little shit. "Tirriel," I greet, not taking my eyes off Elva, "I need a moment with Miss Aistin."
"Of course." The man darts away, off to whoever is next on his list of possible bedfellows for tonight.
I hold out my hand for Elva to take. She doesn't, and while it stings, the brashness of her cruelty only flames my need further. I love her refusal to placate me. It's so wholly different from how everyone else approaches me.
Instead of waiting any longer, I grab her hand, holding it a little too tightly, wrapping my other hand around her waist until she's entirely conformed against me. She gasps, the sound music to my ears as I press my hand against her lower back, a nearly indecent placement, entirely possessive and uncaring if anyone sees.
"Your Majesty," she grits out her displeasure.
"Elva."
With an eye roll, she attempts to push me away, but I hold firm, moving her with me into a dance she has no desire to be a part of. Surrendering, she finally speaks again, "What do you want?"
"I just want to dance," I tell her. "It would look suspicious if we did not."
She rolls her eyes, and I want to both spank her and kiss her for it. "Fine. Let's get this over with, then maybe I can go find Tirriel again."
"Not if you want him to keep breathing," I say, my unbothered voice taking considerable effort through my clenched jaw. She can't know just how affected I am by her threats.
She freezes for a second, whether out of fury or surprise—I can't tell—until she laughs. It's a cruel, wicked sound without any humor behind it at all. It's the sound of a wicked witch coming to claim some sad sap's soul. I would love it if it were directed at anyone else, but truthfully, being the recipient of it makes me irrationally fearful of her and what she might do to enact her revenge.
"Oh, Kai. It's so funny that you think those threats will still work on me." Fuck. "You don't get to tell me what to do. And you don't get to throw a tantrum just because you're not getting what you want."
"A tantrum?" I scoff. I'm not throwing a fucking tantrum. I'm just—
"Yes. A tantrum. Like a child." She grins up at me, her face twisted with malice. "And what do you want, Your Fucking Majesty? Do you even know?"
Yes. Emphatically, yes, I know what I want. But right now, what I want is staring up at me with unmatched fury in her eyes. And she's more willing to destroy me right now than I've ever seen her. That's good, I remind myself. As long as she's angry, she won't have a hard time leaving this place behind tomorrow.
All I want is you gone, I should say. I want to never see your gorgeous, self-sacrificing face again.
Instead, I just hold her closer, wishing there was something that I could say to fix the pain I've caused her. Her fingers clench against mine as she struggles. My hand traverses lower to barely touch the top of her backside, pulling her far too close to be considered a friendly or appropriate dance.
All I want is you, the lump in my throat begs me to confess.
If there was some way to tell her without her knowing, I would. Tell her without the knowledge corrupting her path in this life. Or, the worse and more likely version: Even if I told her that she's everything I want, it would change nothing for her. She'll still go home and forget all about Oksangui, about the people, the orphanage, and even me.
She finally relents, allowing my improper hold and even leaning into it.
"Elva." Her name escapes my lips, the two syllables desperate and wobbly, matching the way I feel whenever she looks at me. Stay. Please.
Her chest caves in, fear and sorrow filling her face. She's as terrified of those two words as I am.
So, rather than say them, I release her, stepping away with a quiet sigh. "Enjoy your night."
She stands frozen for a second, watching me to see what I'll do next. I tip my head, the smallest of bows, and get away from her as quickly as I can. There's no good reason to prolong this torture any longer than necessary.
The night goes on, and while I may have decided not to torture us both any longer, I will still continue to hurt myself, I suppose. She's danced, laughed, and drank the night away, the perfect hostess even at a party that isn't technically hers.
Only twice throughout the night do I see her eyes wander to me, only to quickly dart away and continue charming her way through the room.
"Care to dance, Your Majesty?" an unfamiliar voice asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
