Well, he’d done his best to set her free before, and after their one dance tonight, he’d do his best to send her on her way again. Tipping his glass at her as he fingered the paper in his pocket, he caught her eye and smiled. Then drank to seal the promise.
~ 6 ~
“Thank Moranu!” Gendra moaned in Lena’s ear as they spilled into the corridor, the two of them arm in arm. “I thought Astar would never let us leave and I’d spend the entire ball in that tiny room.”
Rhyian ambled up on Lena’s other side, leaning around her to grin at Gendra. “So many walls, right? I don’t get how Astar stands it, even being more than half-mossback.”
“Maybe even mostly mossback,” Gendra agreed, “as Stella got the lion’s share of the Tala magic, along with the mark. Astar really only has First Form and that’s it.”
“Really? Just the bear still? Huh.” Rhyian ruminated on that.
“Didn’t he have a cat form when he was little?” Lena asked. “There’s that story about him shredding the curtains at Lianore during that Feast of Moranu.”
“Could be.” Rhyian tipped his head for the vagaries of shapeshifting. “Kids sometimes manifest forms once or twice and never again.”
Gendra nodded. “Getting a form once is no guarantee. Being able to do it consistently is the real accomplishment. It takes assiduous practice.”
“You sound like your mother,” Rhyian growled. “There’s no shame in having only a few forms—or even just First Form.”
“I never said there was,” Gendra returned evenly.
Tired of having them argue across her, Salena snorted at them both, flashing them a disgusted look. “Oh, come on, you two. You know you multiform shapeshifters are totally snobby about those of you who have only one form—and you’re even worse about those of us who can’t shapeshift at all.”
“Not at all,” Rhyian said easily, then leisurely dropped his gaze to her abundantly displayed cleavage. She went hot, as if he’d caressed her there, her nipples tightening, and she could only hope he couldn’t see her response with his sharp eyes. Lifting his gaze to hers, he grinned. “I like your one form very much.”
She set her teeth. “Don’t flirt with me, Rhyian.”
“Why not? I thought we declared a truce for the one night.”
“Is that what we decided?” She gave him a sidelong look, and Gendra squeezed her arm, in warning or comfort, she wasn’t sure. It had been a mistake to agree to give him a chance tonight, to promise him even the one dance. Just by having that initial conversation with him, she’d opened a door she’d fought hard to close and lock forever, and now all the old feelings poured through, drowning her good sense and better judgment.
Rhyian just gave her that wicked smile, the one that had always made her melt, and she firmly changed the subject. “What are we going to do about Zeph?” she said to Gendra.
“What’s up there?” Rhyian asked. “Are they lovers? Nobody told me.”
“No,” Gendra and Lena said in one voice, and Rhyian blinked at them.
“Oh-ho, it’s like that, huh?” He chuckled.
“Like what?” Gendra demanded, leaning around Lena.
Rhyian managed an elaborate shrug, even with his hands in his pockets. He still looked impeccably beautiful, not the least bit rumpled—or rather, he was mussed exactly the way he was after sex. Lena shoved that thought—and painful memory—down deep. That was what she should’ve written down and burned.
“You all right?” Rhyian asked, deep blue eyes full of concern, or the pretense of it. Rhyian was very good at pretending to show what she wanted to see, and she had to remember that.
“Yes, why?”
“You made a sound, like you hurt yourself.”
“These shoes pinch. And I’m with Gendra. Why do you say ‘oh-ho, it’s like that’ with Astar and Zeph?”
He gave them a pitying look. “Obviously Zeph has finally decided to seduce our noble and innocent Willy.”
“Then he is a virgin,” Lena murmured to herself, and Rhyian flashed her an amused smile.
“Sadly, yes. But with Zeph on the job, he won’t last out the night.”
“He has to!” Gendra exclaimed. “Rhy, you have to help us keep her away from him.”
Rhyian looked genuinely surprised. “Why? It’s past time for him, and he could do far worse than Zeph.”
“No, he couldn’t,” Gendra argued. “Zeph is the worst possible choice. She’s way too much for him. She’s been with half of Annfwn.”
“At least,” he agreed. “And all of them very happy for the experience.”
“Including you?” Lena asked, regretting it instantly.
Rhy gave her an opaque look and an enigmatic smile. “Zeph is my friend, so I’m not going to dignify that with an answer. But to address Gendra’s point, Astar is a grown man. If he wants to sample Zeph’s charms—as she so clearly wishes to sample his—then more power to them both. It’s not like they’d be hurting anyone.”
“They would,” Gendra insisted, tears in her eyes, and Lena put her hand over Gendra’s on her arm. “Sex changes everything, Rhy!” Gendra spat, seeming not to notice Lena’s touch. “Only a few moments ago, we vowed to be friends forever, and you should know better than anyone what two of us pairing off does to the rest. It’s wrong and unfair.”
They’d all come to a halt just shy of the ballroom. Rhyian glanced at Lena ruefully, and she shared the discomfort. Gendra, clearly regretting her outburst, looked between them. “I mean, I…”
“It’s all right, Gen,” Lena said, patting her friend’s hand. “Rhyian and I handled things badly, not thinking about how it would affect all of you. We’ve already decided to do better—and be only friends in the future.”
“Is that what we decided?” Rhyian murmured, throwing her words back at her with a smile that didn’t reach his hot blue eyes.
“Yes,” she told him decisively, meaning it.
“Oh,” Gendra huffed in exasperation. “Why am I even saying this to you two? I’m wasting my breath, and valuable dancing time.”
Lena frowned, turning to take Gendra’s hands. She’d been so busy with her job in the desert that she couldn’t recall the last time they’d had a heart-to-heart conversation. “What’s going on, honey?”
Gendra yanked her hands away and glared at both of them. “Neither of you could possibly understand. I’m off to find someone to dance with.”
“Hey,” Rhyian called after her, “I thought you promised me a dance.”
She flung a rude gesture over her shoulder. “Not one of my supposed friends.” And she plunged into the whirl of dancers.
Lena rounded on Rhyian. “What was that all about?”
He considered her, leaning languidly against the archway. The garland of moonflowers dripping with crystals and pearls framed his dark and seductive self, a rivetingly masculine version of Moranu, the avatar of all the deepest night offered—unseen dangers, and also delights never beheld in the light of day. “How should I know?” he purred.
She had to drag her thoughts back to the conversation. “You should know because you’re Gendra’s best friend, and you see her every day.”
“Not every day,” he mused. “At least, not lately.”
“Far more than I do,” she insisted.
“What’s stopping you?”
“I’ve been in Aerron. Gendra rarely leaves Annfwn,” she retorted, “and I—” She skidded to a mental halt, abruptly aware of the treacherous ground she found herself treading.
“And you never come to Annfwn,” he finished for her, his eyes fastened on hers, sparking with annoyance. “Are you claiming that’s my fault?”
Lena faltered, breathless as she felt her toes on the edge of the precipice of the chasm between them. “I don’t want to have this conversation,” she whispered.
He straightened from his indolent slouch. “Well, we’re in the middle of it now. Annfwn is a big place. Did you really never visit Gendra all these years because of me
?”
“No.” Yes. “I’ve been busy,” she added, far too defensively.
Smiling slightly, he shook his head. “It’s been a long time, Salena, but I haven’t forgotten how to read you. You ran away to avoid me—and have avoided me for seven years.”
“You knew where to find me,” she shot back, her face hot with embarrassment.
He inclined his head. “I was a coward, too. I couldn’t face you at first. Then, after a while, it was just… easier to not think about it. About you.”
“Yes.” The word hissed out of her on a sigh full of regret and so much more. Gendra was right—she’d let the bad blood with Rhyian affect all of her relationships. “I don’t like to think of myself as a coward,” she admitted.
“That was maybe harsh,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. “I was the coward—among my many failings—and you were rightfully wary of having anything to do with me.”
Her heart had tumbled over so many times this night that she’d grown dizzy from it. “Rhyian… I don’t know what to say.”
He grinned and held out a hand. “Then don’t. Less talking. More dancing.”
She found herself smiling back. “The Tala solution to everything.”
Since she hadn’t yet placed her hand in his, he snagged it and drew her closer. “Always,” he breathed. “Do you remember—”
“Prince Rhyian!” Bethany’s shriek scraped over Lena’s nerves, a pained response echoing in Rhyian’s face as the girl ran up to them, curtseying deeply. “Happy Feast of Moranu.”
“Bethany,” Rhy said smoothly, dropping Lena’s hand to offer it to help Bethany up. “You look ravishing.”
Bethany giggled, doing a pirouette to show off her gown, which seemed to be made entirely of black lace and obsidian crystals. Lena wondered if their mother knew the gown Bethany had worked on in secret was so very… adult. “We match!” she crowed. “Do you see?”
“Indeed we do.” Rhyian seemed bemused, but he also smiled on Lena’s sister with apparently genuine affection. Another surprise, as Lena hadn’t realized the two even knew each other. She’d have known if Rhyian ever visited Nahanau, whether she was there or not. “But how did you guess?” he asked.
“Silly.” Bethany leaned on Rhyian’s arm, swanning in close to him. “You always wear black,” she breathed.
Lena raised a brow at Rhyian, and he had the grace to look chagrined. So far as she knew, Rhyian had last seen Bethany when she was five or six years old. And Bethany had been going on earlier about falling in love and the crystalline moon. Oh, Rhyian had better not!
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Bethany scolded, flashing an angry look at Lena, as if she’d been holding Rhyian captive. “I’ve been practicing the dance steps you showed me. Now you must dance with me for real.”
“Of course.” Rhyian patted her hand where she leaned on him, peeled it off his arm, then bent over it to brush a kiss over it. “As soon as this set ends, I’ll meet you on the floor.”
“But—” Bethany began, giving Lena another suspicious look.
“I must take care of something first,” he said, winking at her. “Even shapeshifters are only human.”
“Oh!” Bethany blushed prettily, then nodded knowingly. “See you in a bit. Don’t be late.” Casting Lena one more smile, this one decidedly impudent, she trotted off to where a group of her friends waited, all bursting into giggles at her arrival.
Rhyian shook his head, turning back to Lena with a smile. “Now, where—”
“Bethany has been coming to Annfwn?” Lena asked, cutting him off.
His expression cooled. “You’re not the only one with friends in Annfwn, Salena.”
“And she’s been spending time with you.” Fury—and maybe a bit of jealousy—burned acid through her stomach. “Dance lessons?” She made the words scathing.
“Yes, if you must know,” he bit out.
“Is that a euphemism?” she asked with bitter scorn. She hadn’t been much older than Bethany when she’d fallen under Rhyian’s seductive spell.
“What? No, I—”
She didn’t want his excuses. “You stay away from my little sister, Rhyian.” Her voice shook with anger. “She is too young for you.”
Matching fury lit his eyes to cobalt, and he stuck a finger in her face. “Don’t you dare accuse me of something like that. I would never.”
“No? That’s not how I remember things.”
His expression froze, skin smooth and eyes fulgent. “Oh, Salena,” he said on a hush. “That seems terribly cruel. It was different between you and me.”
It had been cruel, unfairly so. “You’re right. I apologize. It just… took me by surprise, that you even know Bethany. That you and she… She’s so young, Rhyian.”
He drew back, a world of pain in his eyes, though his face remained icily composed. “She sought me out. She’s a sweet girl, and I like talking to her.”
“I can’t imagine what you’d talk about.”
“She tells me what you’re doing.”
Lena stared at him in shock, once again at a loss for words. He smiled without humor, cocking his head. “The set is ending. I’d best meet her before she tracks me down. Again.”
She nodded, numb from the onslaught of conflicting emotions. Rhyian paused, then picked up her hand once more, holding it in both of his, running his thumb thoughtfully over the back, lifting a black-winged brow. “She’s like my little sister, too, Salena,” he said softly. “And I only tolerated her because of you.”
Lena nodded, feeling stiff and awkward—and like a total idiot. “I’ll see if I can find Gendra. Talk to her.”
“You’re a good friend. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.” He bowed, his lips whispering over her skin in sensual promise and memory. “The next dance is ours,” he said, and strode off, a lethal sword of darkness slicing through the crowd.
~ 7 ~
“You look so handsome tonight, Prince Rhyian,” Bethany cooed breathlessly. Only the fact that she kept craning her neck to see if her friends were watching them kept Rhy from escaping the girl’s clutches to go find Salena again.
Salena, who hadn’t changed at all and who’d changed entirely. It was as if they’d been together only that morning and as if she was someone he’d never met at the same time. Fascinating, infuriating, endlessly seductive. The person who could both call him on his shit and make him laugh. How had he managed all these years without her in his life?
“Prince Rhyian?”
“You know I’m not really a prince,” he chided. “The Tala don’t have a hereditary monarchy.” Most of the time that didn’t bother him. Rhy’s parents were hale and hearty—and more than capable of ruling Annfwn. But having mossbacks call him “prince” only reminded him of how truly pointless his life was. All of his friends had goals and fine aspirations, and he had… nothing of note. No wonder Salena found him so contemptible.
“I think you aren’t listening to me at all.”
He looked down to find Bethany pouting, and gave her a charming grin that wouldn’t fool Salena for a moment. “So much noise and so many walls. It’s hard on us Tala, you know.”
Her brown eyes sparkled, and she gave him a coy look from under her dark lashes. “Then let’s get you out of this noise and go somewhere we can be alone,” she breathed.
Uh-oh. Far too late, he realized he was being well and truly stalked. He’d been so offended by Salena’s accusations that he hadn’t given credence to her warning. Also, he had no idea how to handle this, especially when he spotted King Nakoa KauPo—darling Bethany’s truly terrifying father—searching the dancers and pinning Rhy with his menacing gaze. The crowd parted as the king strode toward them, and Rhy turned Bethany in the dance so she could see. “I think someone is looking for you,” he said.
Bethany blanched, chewing her lip in girlish dismay. “Oh no! What do I do? He told me I’m too young to dance with men yet, but I’m not!”
Internally, Rhy sighed. Surel
y he could’ve avoided this somehow. Maybe by listening to Salena, an internal voice whispered. “I’ll handle this,” he told her, wondering when he’d become the adult and responsible one.
He danced her toward the sidelines, in Nakoa’s direction so the king wouldn’t take alarm thinking they meant to dodge him, then halted. He bowed gallantly to Bethany, waiting until Nakoa reached them to say, “Thank you for rescuing me, Princess Bethany Nakoa KauPo. I know you said you couldn’t dance, but you did so beautifully. Greetings, Your Highness.” Rhy transferred the bow to the king, certain he heard a low rumble of thunderous displeasure.
“Your devoted mother seeks your pleasant company, kiki,” Nakoa said, barely sparing the girl a glance as he stared down Rhy. Down being the operative word, as the King of Nahanau stood a good head taller than Rhy, who was far from short. Nakoa also outweighed Rhy by a considerable amount. If the man were a barrel, Rhy could fit himself inside. And Nakoa was an accomplished warrior besides. Rhy’s only hope of surviving a fight with the man would be to shapeshift—and then his parents would kill him for causing a diplomatic incident. There was no win here.
“Yes, Muku,” Bethany squeaked, abandoning Rhy to disappear into the crush with impressive agility and a noteworthy absence of concern for Rhy.
Rhy bowed to Nakoa, holding the pose a moment to show respect—he hoped—then straightened. “Happy Feast of Moranu, Your Highness.”
King Nakoa KauPo studied him with a stern expression, one as thunderous as the storms he could summon with a thought. Then he grunted, nodded once, and strode off.
“You got lucky,” a throaty voice purred in Rhy’s ear, and he spun, surprised anyone had managed to sneak up on him. Salena grinned at him, clearly pleased with herself. “Actually, Muku is a pussycat compared to Mom, but I was still ready to step in to defend your honor.”
He gazed back at her, rather astonished. He’d figured her for avoiding him the rest of the night, not coming to his aid. “I’m touched,” he said, then worried that it sounded too flip. “I know you have no reason to defend me, and plenty of reasons not to.”
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