by Lish McBride
“I can see how watching suitors pursue her would put one off.” Tevin twirled her around a couple who were out of step. “What about you? Are you gifted, too?”
Willa grinned. “Cursed. I had the cheek to imply that Diadora’s gift was less than welcome.”
“So no gems and flowers for you?”
“I get toads and snakes. That’s the other reason I’m not marrying.”
“Because you think your chosen partner would find it revolting?”
“I can’t take bloom all the time, Tevin, and I talk in my sleep.”
Tevin laughed. “You and I have the opposite problem.”
“What, people don’t run away when you speak?”
Tevin kept his face very serious. “I’m absolutely enchanting, and I mean that literally. The last two debutantes I danced with are smitten. They can’t help it. I start talking, and they start swooning.”
She clucked her tongue in mock sympathy. “Poor man.”
The song came to an end, and she curtseyed as he sketched a bow. “Care to walk with me, Willa?” He held up a hand before she could respond. “I still don’t want to marry you, but you provide a pleasing buffer between gigglers.”
She took his arm. “I would be delighted to be your moat.” She led him over to the edge of the crowd, ignoring the people trying to catch Tevin’s eye. “Why am I not giggling and fainting?”
Tevin glanced over the ballroom, looking for Merit’s brown hair. “Some people don’t want to be charmed.”
Willa thought about this for a moment. “It’s a relief, isn’t it? To simply . . . be for a minute. No snakes. No gigglers.”
“It is, actually.” He stopped then, in both word and deed. Merit was descending a set of steps into the ballroom. He actually caught sight of Lady Zarla first, as she was taller and difficult to miss in a silver gown that caught the light when she moved, sending off a sparkle. Merit’s dress was more subdued. The fabric had been dyed a deep blue with a silver filigree covering it—he was too far away to see if the silver was embroidery or not. Her hair was up, a few brown curls draped artfully around her face. She looked lovely and also like she absolutely didn’t want to be at the ball, not that she let any of it show on her face. Tevin could just tell.
“Ah,” Willa said, her tone knowing. “Now we get to the real reason you don’t want to fill my moat.”
“It sounds much worse when you say it that way.”
“Are you pursuing Merit, or is this a forbidden longing?” She paused. “Unless you’re aiming for her mother?”
“I’m pursuing forbidden longing,” Tevin said, hoping she’d be satisfied with the murky answer. “Now take back what you said about Lady Zarla. She’s terrifying.”
“Her mother is a bit of a tyrant, yes.” Willa grabbed his arm, dragging him away from where they’d been standing. He followed without complaint because she was taking him toward Merit. “Merit and I belong to the same curse support group. Let’s just say she’s had a time of it.”
“I can imagine.” Well, he could try. He had a feeling that Merit’s daily life had been very different from his—they were opposites in many ways. But as she stepped down into the crush of people in the ballroom, she managed to look very alone. That, Tevin understood.
Willa halted their progress. “You’re going to be nice to her, right?”
He’d been deep in his own ruminations, and it took him a moment to surface; he’d missed her question. “Pardon?”
Willa turned so he had to look at her. She was a tiny thing, so Tevin had to look down.
“I consider Merit a friend,” Willa said frankly. “If I find out you’ve added to her misery, I will break into your room in the middle of the night and read you a story.”
“As threats go, that one is weird.”
“It will be a long story, and I won’t be using any tincture. Have you ever woken up in a bed of snakes?”
“I can honestly say that I haven’t.”
She poked him in the chest. “Best keep it that way. It takes getting used to.” She turned back around and continued on her path to Merit.
* * *
• • •
By the time they’d reached her, Merit was talking to a tall blond man. A tall, blond, handsome man who was making her smile. Tevin sized him up, a purely academic assessment, and had to admit that if he’d actually been after Merit, he would be worried.
The man was smiling down at her, so Tevin could see that his teeth were white and even. His long hair was braided back, exposing a masculine jaw. Tevin glanced at his clothing. You could tell a lot by how someone dressed. Because the ball was formal, the man’s suit was similar to Tevin’s, with the cut, the stitching, and the material all of the finest quality. Some men padded their suits to give a more muscled appearance, but Tevin could tell that his athletic build was the real deal. Everything about the man was picture-perfect, except for the leonine tail. Would he bond with Merit over it? Were they swapping charming tail stories right now? Was that why he was smiling at Merit and she was actually smiling back? A real smile. Which was what Tevin wanted, wasn’t it? He suddenly wished he hadn’t had quite so much champagne. He was feeling a little dizzy and not at all like himself. That had to be the reason he was feeling a stab of jealousy over Merit’s interaction with the stranger. He had to stomp on that feeling. Hard.
Willa gave a low whistle. “I think you’ve got competition.”
Tevin mentally ran through aristocratic lineages. Of course, the man could be cursed, but he didn’t think so. “Latimer of Huldre.”
“The fairy prince?” Willa asked, her eyes wide. “How do you know?”
“Our queen has wings because that’s what her line manifests, but his kind have tails.”
Willa sighed. “He looks like a golden dream, doesn’t he? Can’t say I trust the pretty ones, no offense. Why do they call him by his last name, do you know?”
“None taken.” Tevin didn’t know much about the Huldre barony. “He’s a prince. Can’t have everyone doing something so common as referring to him by his actual name. I bet even his parents call him Latimer. It’s Eric, I think. His first name.”
“That’s kind of sad,” Willa murmured. They were cutting their way through the crowd and getting closer. “Do I have to worry about my moat? I don’t think I’d like to be a fairy princess. So many rules.”
“I think you’re safe,” Tevin said. “They wouldn’t sully the bloodlines with mere mortals such as us.”
“I’ve learned that a lot can be overlooked when a boatload of coin is involved,” Willa said. “And it’s well known that my father has a boatload.”
He tilted his head closer. “You could reconsider your moat. I’m sure you’d get used to the tail. You’d get a crown, and everyone would have to do what you say.”
“You don’t make it sound like people bowing and scraping to your will is much fun, so I’ll pass.”
“Handsome fairy princes don’t grow on trees, Willa.” Tevin stared down his nose at her, affecting a haughty expression.
She glared at him. “Bed of snakes, Tevin. Bed. Of. Snakes.” She herded him the rest of the way to Merit.
Lady Zarla’s reception of them was icy, naturally. Oh, she was polite to Willa, and she wasn’t openly rude to Tevin, but he had the impression she was mentally flaying him, layer by layer. Tevin, being a DuMont to the bone, couldn’t help but poke the dragon. He took Lady Zarla’s gloved hand and bowed over it. “Lady Zarla, you are an absolute vision. It’s obvious where your daughter gets her beauty.” And her claws.
He could easily imagine the flames in Lady Zarla’s eyes, but her face and tone were serene as she softened to his magic. “My, don’t you have a silver tongue.” She waved an elegant gloved hand toward Huldre. “May I present to you the exalted Latimer of Huldre, heir to the kingdom of Huldre?”
L
atimer glanced at Tevin. “Charmed, I’m sure.” Then he went right back to his conversation with Merit.
Tevin smiled, reached out, and grasped Merit’s glove. “My apologies, of course, but I’m afraid Merit has promised me a waltz.” He pulled her to him. “The music is already starting.”
“I can’t hear it,” Merit said.
“It’s faint. Opening strains.” He urged Willa forward. “Huldre, have you met Wilhelmina? Capital girl. Interesting ideas about moats. Loves to waltz.” Willa glared at him, and he mouthed an apology. She rolled her eyes and shooed him off.
“Tevin,” Merit whispered. “That was rude.”
“Was it?” Tevin kept his face averted. He had the odd feeling that if Merit looked into his eyes right now, she’d see past the pleasant face he was wearing, past the social mask, and into the confusion that plagued him. How was he going to explain stealing her away when he should have left her to talk to Latimer? “My apologies, then.”
“You’re not sorry in the least.” Merit sounded cross, but hadn’t let go of his hand.
“Nonsense. I’ll send him a note and some very manly flowers on the morrow.” His words were flippant, but she’d believe what he said more than what he actually thought, which was, I didn’t like the way you smiled at him. And perhaps he was imagining it, but had there been something oddly predatory in the way Latimer had looked at her? He couldn’t be sure, because he didn’t know whether his dislike was a jealous response or an accurate one. Everything was all tangled, and he couldn’t sort it now. He decided to blame that on a head full of champagne.
There was also something about the way Merit had looked standing next to her mother. She’d appeared . . . meek. It felt wrong to him on a deep level. Merit was a lot of things—argumentative, intelligent, strong-willed. She should never look meek.
By the time they were close to the dance floor, the band actually was playing the first few notes of a waltz.
Merit made an irritated noise. “A waltz. Of course. Does anything not go your way?”
Tevin pulled her close instinctively. “Considering you pulled me out of a jail cell quite recently, I think I can say things go against my wishes all the time.”
Merit’s eyebrows lowered. “But your setbacks are fleeting. You may have been incarcerated, but today you’re flitting about a grand ballroom, in the finest threads and without a worry.”
“Ah,” Tevin said softly. “That’s where you’re wrong. There’s always worry. When circumstances change so frequently and are so disparate, you know how quickly you can lose everything. It’s exhausting.”
“We shouldn’t be talking about any of this here.” Merit glanced up at him through her lashes. “Even quietly.”
“Just so,” Tevin said. “What was your impression of Latimer?”
“I barely met him.”
“Merit Cravan, I haven’t known you long, but I know you’ve already gathered some data, processed it, and judged him accordingly. If I’m wrong, I’ll eat my boutonniere.”
Merit shook her head. “He was very tall and very blond.”
“That’s it?” Tevin dipped his head to catch her eye. “I don’t believe you.”
“Fine. He’s handsome, and he was very attentive after my mother introduced us. I would say that it seemed he was interested in me, but as someone has blabbed that I’m looking for marriage, it could have been an act. If so, it was a good one.” She frowned. “I still don’t understand why he’s on the list. Why would my mother pick him if it meant he could take me away?”
“We’ll figure it out.” Tevin lost the conversation for a moment as they danced, Merit’s face turned up to his. Trust. She was looking at him like he had all the answers. He’d never felt more like a fraud in his life, and he was suddenly overcome with the fear that he would let Merit down. He cleared his throat before forcing a levity into his tone that he didn’t feel. “Later I want a full report—every little irritating detail. Make some up if you want. For now, you need to act like you’re enjoying this dance.” When she frowned up at him, he smiled back at her. “I’m supposed to be your mother’s guest, right? And you’re supposed to sparkle. Try to look like you’re having a good time.”
“But I’m not. I hate everything, and I want to get out of this dress.”
“That can be arranged.” He winked at her.
“Stop it,” she growled. “So creepy.”
Tevin acted affronted. “I happen to know that I have a very sexy wink. Sensual, even.”
“I don’t know how you can say things like ‘sensual’ with a straight face.” Merit continued to scowl at him. It shouldn’t have made him feel lighter inside, but it did.
He sighed. “Fine, pretend you’re at home reading and don’t have to deal with a single human soul.”
Now she sighed, and it was simultaneously wistful and irritated. “How is it you’ve only known me a short time, but already know exactly what to say to me? It’s annoying.”
Tevin pulled her close. “If you manage to look absolutely smitten with me for the rest of the dance, I’ll reward you with a trip out to the terrace for some fresh air and a moment of not smiling at anything.”
She beamed up at him and batted her eyes.
“That’s my girl.”
* * *
• • •
The cool air was a welcome respite after the stifling ballroom. The terrace itself was long and surrounded by a railing, except for two spots left open to accommodate stairs. From the stairs came several brick paths that led out into an elaborate garden. The staff had lit torches along the path so that revelers could take a walk, get some air, or find a semiprivate corner. Tevin thought it very likely that Val was currently in such a corner with the Meringue and envied his cousin a little. Not for the girl, but for his cousin’s freedom to gad about in the first place.
“Oh no.” Merit’s whisper held genuine dread. She pulled Tevin down the stairs.
“What?”
“My mother is talking to Freddie and clearly looking for me.” She yanked him along by his arm.
“Isn’t that why we’re here?” Tevin asked, rocking back on his heels to slow her. “To talk to the suitors your mother approves of?” It was a good reminder for both of them, though he hated bringing it up.
“I just talked to him.”
“Yesterday.”
“That doesn’t mean I want to do it again today,” Merit said, yanking harder.
“I think the fact that you can’t handle talking to him two days in a row doesn’t speak well for his chances.” He followed Merit down the stairs, but instead of entering the garden, she cut away from the paths, lifting her skirts an inch or two to keep them from touching the grass.
They made their way to the side of the house, where Merit found a narrow and unassuming wooden door, likely a quick way for the servants to reach the back lawns. Merit opened it without issue and stepped inside, Tevin close behind. Tevin gently shut the door behind him, plunging them into darkness. They navigated their way up by feel, his hand on her shoulder so he wouldn’t lose her. Merit’s dancing slippers made little sound, and Tevin tried to keep his steps light—they didn’t want to create a ruckus and draw attention to themselves. At the top of the stairs, Merit hesitated, pressing her ear to the door. Hearing nothing, she cracked the door and peeked out. After a moment, she led Tevin into the hall.
“Which way do you think will take us back to the ballroom?” Merit asked, pushing one of the curls out of her face. The faint strains of the orchestra floated through the air, but Tevin wasn’t quite sure which direction the sound came from.
Tevin rocked back on his heels. “Who says we need to go back right away?” He grabbed Merit’s hand. “You needed a break, right? Let’s take one. It’ll be fun.”
“I think you confuse fun with trouble.” But she took his hand anyway and led him farther aw
ay from the music.
He followed Merit up another set of stairs, down a hallway—where they ducked behind some curtains to miss running into a maid—and finally to another door.
Merit slowly and quietly opened the door, peeked in, and then pulled Tevin in by his lapels. As soon as they were inside, she shut the door behind them.
They stared at each other, eyes wide, before they both burst out laughing.
Tevin felt his body relax—they’d made it this far undetected. He nearly jumped out of his tux when someone leaned in close to him and said, “Boo.”
* * *
• • •
“Amaury, I’m going to punch your teeth in.” Tevin shoved his brother away from the door, but Amaury only smirked.
Merit had a hand over her heart and was blinking rapidly. “I think my soul temporarily left my body, and I became a ghost. What are you doing here?”
Amaury flopped back into the desk chair, picking up a bottle of champagne and drinking from it. “I do this at every ball I go to. Don’t you?”
“No,” Merit said, sitting on the desk. “I actually dance and talk to people.” She examined Amaury’s calm and contented sprawl. “Obviously I’ve been doing it wrong.” She grabbed the bottle and took a sip, grimacing. “Ugh, it’s warm.”
Amaury snatched the bottle back. “If you’re going to complain, then you don’t get any.”
Tevin rubbed the spot between his eyes that seemed to be growing a headache. “You were both supposed to be gathering information.” Val was too, but she was likely still gathering information from the Meringue. Useful information, no doubt, but not to Tevin.
“I know my orders, thank you.” Amaury set the bottle on the other side of the desk, away from Merit.