The look sent a shameful spark of jealousy through Darius, and he averted his attention just as the music switched to a waltz.
“Ah.” Dolion patted his youngest child’s hand. “It’s time for your first dance, my dearest. Who shall be your partner?”
The question hung in the air for an awkwardly long time. Darius knew it would be the gentlemanly thing to request to be her partner, but his temperament was already a bit on edge, and he did not care to feel any more hands on him, however gentle this lady’s touch might be. He also was not in the mood to smile and speak false pleasantries, especially with his stepfather most likely watching . . . no good would come from Hayzar thinking he was interested, not just in the girl but in anything. Such things had a tendency to get taken, to disappear.
Yet the longer no one spoke—Frez still a melting ball of cowardice beside him—the more Lady Larkyra shrank in embarrassment, her gaze often fluttering to his.
Sticks.
“Does the father not have the first dance?” asked Darius. “In Lachlan that’s how we start.”
“No.” Dolion held his stare. “That is not how we start in Jabari.”
It wasn’t so much an intimidation as a Come on, man. Use your head.
But it was precisely his head that held him in a panic, made him want to push the next guest toward her. Instead, with a clenched jaw, he found himself raising his gloved hand and asking, “Would you do me the great honor of allowing me your first dance?”
To his relief, he barely felt Lady Larkyra’s delicate fingers in his as he led her to the center of the ballroom. Keeping his features impassive, he slid his hand around her small waist, drawing her near, before making pace with the other dancers spinning about the room. His heart settled its rapid beat, as her grip on him was nothing more than a whisper of a bird’s wing, and at this close proximity, he caught the mint and lavender of her soap. Nothing obnoxiously overperfumed, like what most of the aristocratic ladies wore, but merely a clean remnant of her bath. It settled his nerves further, and before he knew it, he was pulling her closer.
Despite his reluctance to find more to compliment in her, she was also an excellent dancer, though Darius supposed he didn’t have enough experience to draw such a conclusion. He still could appreciate her quick feet and light turns, the way she easily let him guide her.
“There are only a few sand grains left.” Her soft voice jarred him from his thoughts. “You needn’t worry much longer.”
“What?”
“The waltz will end soon,” she clarified. “Which means your suffering will too.”
Darius frowned. “I am not suffering.”
“No?” She shot him a mocking glance. “My father had to practically force you to partner with me, which I do apologize for. And just now you looked as though you were more interested in solving a silent riddle than engaging in a conversation. My sisters always told me I was barely tolerable, but now I am starting to believe them.”
Darius quickly searched for his stepfather but only found a sea of strangers watching. “I’m sorry if that’s how it appeared.” He held her more securely as they did a two-step turn. “Trust me when I say you are more than tolerable as a dance partner. I’m merely not the best at social gatherings. At least not this sort.”
“This sort?” asked Lady Larkyra.
“Societal soirees.”
She laughed, the light sound cutting straight through him. “And here I thought it was a birthday party.”
“Yes, yes. Of course. Again, I apologize.”
By the lost gods, man, you’re acting like a blubbering chit.
“No.” She smiled widely. “You’re right. This is barely the sort of thing I’d throw myself if I had my way.”
“Then why are we all here? I hardly believe your father is the type of man who would deny you anything if asked.”
“What makes you think he has?” Lady Larkyra’s blue eyes sparked with mischief, and Darius found himself watching her more intently, the way the yellow glow of the room reflected in shimmers across her intricately braided hair.
She really did feel familiar to him, but perhaps it was the way she sparked with such life that Darius found comforting. He was not used to such energy, and it appeared he was rather parched for it.
“We all have roles to play at different times,” she went on. “Like you being the dashing lord and coming to my rescue for my first dance, despite your reservations.”
“I didn’t have—”
“You did.” She stepped between his legs for a spin. “No need to lie, my lord.”
There was a tease in her voice, a hidden joke.
“Are you always this forthright?” asked Darius.
“Like I said, no need to lie.”
Except lies are all I’ve known, he thought.
“So you have never found the need for falsity?” challenged Darius.
“Of course I have.”
He blinked down at her. “Now you’re talking in contradictions.”
“No, I’m talking contextually.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“It means I am forthright when I see no need to be otherwise, and I am a liar when the situation warrants it.”
“You are most peculiar.”
“Thank you.” She beamed, and he couldn’t help it—he laughed.
The sound surprised not only him but Lady Larkyra as well. She gazed up at him with an almost triumphant expression as he held her in his arms.
“By your comment earlier,” he said, “can I deduce that you’re celebrating your day of birth again in another way?”
Her smile turned sly. “The night is still young, Lord Mekenna,” she said as the waltz came to a close. “And so am I.”
They each stood there for a moment, frozen, one of his hands still in hers, the other on her waist, their breathing fast from the slight exertion—at least that was what Darius blamed it on—as the party hummed, softly blurring around them.
And then it all snapped into focus as a new voice entered their bubble. A voice laced with silk over sand, a voice that would forever send ice across Darius’s skin.
“After such a graceful performance,” said Hayzar Bruin from beside them, “I would be remiss not to ask for the next dance.” He extended a violet-gloved hand toward Larkyra.
Darius’s grip instinctively tightened around her, making Larkyra glance up at him in question, but before she could get a word out, he forced himself to release her and step back, giving her room to accept the offer, which she did with a smile.
As a black knot of smoke gathered in Darius’s gut, he was forced to watch, like every other time he’d begun to enjoy something in his life, as his stepfather took her away.
CHAPTER FIVE
The night air was hotter and thicker than Darius would have expected, given that there was no sun hanging in the midnight sky, and the dark alley he walked through smelled potently of fish. Adjusting the brown leather mask tighter against his face, Darius attempted to muffle the putrid aroma. Anonymity was required where he was going, but the cover was working well as a stench barrier.
After remaining at the ball for two more sand falls, keeping to the shadowed corners and watching Lady Larkyra Bassette flit about with suitor after suitor, he’d left.