Page 91 of Only Flames Remain

Without another word, I placed my drink down on the table behind my father and stalked across the dance floor toward Morwenna. King Eldrin caught my eye over her shoulder, and he smiled deeply. I bowed at the waist, hand on my sternum, before meeting his gaze.

“It would be my honor, King Eldrin, if I could ask your daughter to grace me with a dance.”

His eyes sparkled with mirth. “Of course!”

Morwenna turned, the half-moon on her forehead from Nytherion stark against her pale skin. Her amethyst eyes were pinned on me as I took her hand, leading her to the center of the dance floor. All eyes were drawn to us as the violins slowed their rhythm, the song turning deliberate and intimate. I held her hand in mine, the other pressing to her waist as I turned us.

Her knowing eyes narrowed on me, the eerie glow of her irises sending a shiver down my spine.

“Forgive me for being candid, Prince Sorin. But I know you don’t want to marry me.”

I choked on my own spit, doing my best to compose myself before I devolved into a full-blown coughing attack. “Pardon?”

Morwenna’s gaze was scrutinizing, her pupils dilated. “The alliance. I can see that it means more to you than anything else. That if you had your choice, you would rather not tie yourself to me. I don’t blame you, of course.”

“No?” I cleared my throat once more, my voice hoarse.

Morwenna shook her head. “I am not too fond of the idea, either.”

“No?” I questioned again, voice deepening.

“You think I want to marry myself off to someone I don’t know? To a prince of Blackwater, with a reputation that precedes him, no less?”

I frowned. “Perhaps you are thinking of my brother, Valerian...”

“No. I am thinking of you, Sorin Blackwater. Cursed prince of Gothryn. Heir to the throne.”

My gaze wandered the ballroom, but it snapped back at her words.

How many godsforsaken people knew about this curse?

Morwenna slid her hand out of mine, pointing to the sigil that marked her forehead. “I am blessed by the goddess, Nytherion, remember? I have the sight.”

I cursed how many Vireth had the sight in this godsdamned kingdom. I let out a frustrated exhale, shaking my head back and forth.

“The curse is of no concern to you, Princess Morwenna. I assure you.”

Her violet-painted lips curved into a smile. “Oh, I know.”

Did she know about Aveline? I tried my best not to think of her while with another; something about that felt dishonest. But my thoughts kept returning to that maddening human over and over again. The wound in my side pulsed with pain, and my hand slid from Morwenna’s waist to press against it as I winced, surprised.

What in the seven hells? It had started healing…

“Are you all right?” she asked, though her affect was deadpan and I doubted her concern was genuine.

“I am. If you’ll excuse me for a moment—” I told her, turning from her and making for the double doors that would lead me out into the corridor.

As I staggered across the dance floor, whispers filled the ballroom and heads were turning toward the grand entrance.

It only took me a moment to determine why.

On the threshold stood Aveline. Her shoulders were back, chin tucked down as she met each and every stare that turned in her direction.

Word had spread this last week about Prince Kallias Ashbourne’s mistress and her presence at court, despite my best efforts to quell the rumors.

She had chosen my favorite of the dresses tonight, midnight blue hugging her so closely it appeared painted on. The delicate beading at the chest dipped low enough to accentuate her generous cleavage, her breasts straining against the corset with each and every breath. Her pale arms were crossed behind her back, the flowing indigo skirt pooling on the floor. The slit met her hip so that her milky white leg could be seen beneath, a black strappy heel on her foot.

Her raven-colored hair was pinned behind her head, falling down her back in silken ringlets that I ached to touch. Her mask was an intricate design of swirling ebony filigree, glittering onyx flowers embellishing the sides.