The Unwilling - Kelly Braffet Page 0,95

of the City wished to take back to his chambers. The someone would be beautiful and blushing and he would probably destroy them, and that was sad. But the someone would not be Elly, and that was not sad.

The Seneschal was definitely watching her, his face hard, almost angry. The emotion seemed out of place among the light music and the elegant courtiers. He was down off the dais now, moving around the edges of the crowd; toward her.

She didn’t want to talk to him. She didn’t know what he knew but she suspected. Her arm was still hooked through Theron’s; she let it drop, ignoring the pain as the burns inside her silk-lined sleeves (the bandages had not fit) pressed against the rough braid of his coat, and took his hand instead. “Come on,” she said, and led him in the other direction. As she did, the music changed, and the dance did, too. This one was a social dance, the kind where partners were traded back and forth. Judah scanned the crowd for Elly and saw that she had withdrawn to her seat next to Elban on the dais, pale and flat-eyed. It was taking everything Elly had just to dance with Gavin tonight, and she would not be willing to make conversation with whatever courtier happened to be next to her when the figure changed. Elly thought she was going to spend the night with Elban. Sitting next to him, Judah knew, was her being strong, and proving she was brave.

There was a moment of chaos in the new dance as partners were found, figures formed. The Seneschal took advantage of the pause to cut across the floor. He was close now, and Judah saw that she’d trapped herself in a corner. Just like with the Wilmerian. When the dance started in earnest, there would be no escape.

Through the crowd, she saw Firo, resplendent in copper-traced teal. A table of cakes like the one Theron carried stood nearby; Judah pushed him gently toward it. “Theron,” she said. “Go eat.”

He stumbled a bit. She must have pushed him harder than she’d meant to. He stared at the cake in his hand, and its fellows on the table. “Eat?”

“Or wait. Whatever.” His slowness exasperated her (and would that there were some part of herself she could trade to fix that, too; she would happily give an arm or a leg or a foot to have quick snappish Theron back). He frowned but obeyed, as she’d known he would, and Judah scanned again for Firo’s teal coat. If he’d found a partner—but, no, he was working his way out, too. She pushed rudely through the crowd and set herself in front of him. His purple sash was also edged in copper and perfectly matched the amethysts in his ears. His hair was very high, his kohl very thick. “Dance with me,” she ordered, and pushed herself into his arms; then the figure started in earnest and he had no choice, if he didn’t want to disrupt the dance and call attention to himself. To both of them.

He frowned, muttering, “This will not serve me well,” but one of his hands found hers, the other going to her waist. The Seneschal, at the edge of the crowd, watched stone-faced as Firo led her into the dance. Judah took a deep breath. She could feel Gavin, his curiosity breaking through his misery when he felt her pounding heart, her sudden nerves.

“Relax,” Judah said. “Soon nobody’s even going to remember I was here, much less you.” Elly had left the dais after all, and was leading Theron into the dance.

“Is that so?” All at once Firo’s grip on her waist was hard, his long fingernails pressing her hand. Not digging in, but threatening, all the same. His eyes were narrow, calculating. “What do you know, foundling?”

A flutter of high, giddy excitement coursed through her. Elly and Theron were dancing, and Elly was even managing to smile. “What I’ve said,” Judah said airily. “You aren’t the only one who can spin webs.”

Firo cocked an eyebrow. Across the whirling, rotating dancers she saw Gavin. His current partner wore indigo. Amie. As they revolved Judah saw her lips moving. Whatever she said was dragging Gavin down: his eyes, his spirit. Inappropriately, Judah found herself stifling a laugh. You, too, you silly sugar flower, she thought at Amie. You might be surprised, too.

Firo, meanwhile, was watching her carefully. “You know, you’re unexpectedly lovely tonight. Have they brought

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